Yeah, so I think my brother summed my last post up nicely in the comments. I will note however, I said it was a nice day, I didn't say it was an exciting day. So. Bite me, Charlie.
Anywho. A few days ago, I was visiting one of my favorite blogs , and she was tellin ghost stories. Since I am the very worst kind of idea stealing thief, I am going to follow her lead. I hope she can forgive me, in light of the fact that my last entry sucked eggs. Also, go read her if you don't already, because she is a fucking HOOT.
Story one: I was moving into a new house (new to me, in reality the house was at least 70 years old) and was in the kitchen cleaning. Yes, I was cleaning before i moved in. You might take this to mean that I am a clean freak. You would be wrong. Freak, yes. Clean freak, not so much. ANYWAY.
In the kitchen there was a door that opened to a set of stairs leading to the attic. I was wiping down the counters when I heard someone walking down those stairs. Which? Not so odd if I hadn't been the ONLY PERSON IN THE HOUSE.
I whipped around and watched the doorway, all the while listening to SOMEONE walk slowly (and heavily) down those stairs. I had the door open, so of course what is going through my mind is that the ax murderer who was hiding in the attic isn't even going to have to go to the trouble of turning a doorknob to kill me where I stand.
Because, yes, I just stood there, not moving, while listening to those steps. Because? I am an idiot with no survival skills.
Now from my vantage point I can see the last few steps and I'm watchin HARD. Then, the steps just...stopped. At the bottom. Only, no one was there. Freaked me right the hell out.
Yes, I still moved in. Yes, in the time I lived there I saw a few things I couldn't swear weren't corporeal. Yes, I have an active imagination but it isn't THAT good.
Ok, so next thing: I used to work in a grooming shop in a shopping center that was on property that had been farmland in the not too distant past. When I started working there my co-workers would tell me spooky shit about how the farmer that used to own the place still hung around, despite the fact that he no longer held the deed to the place and also despite the fact that he was dead.
I figured they were fuckin with the new girl's mind. Which is pretty easy to do. (quick sidenote to show y'all how naive I can be: My husband told me that the word gullible wasn't in the dictionary. I actually got the damned dictionary out to prove it was before he started laughing his ass off. Bastard)
Then! Ok, we had ribbons for bows hanging on a spindle for ease of use. There was no air ducts or fans or anything that could otherwise cause all (about 25) the spools of ribbon to start fluttering straight out into the air at the same time. I wish I could paint a better picture of it for y'all, but trust me, it was WEIRD.
Also, during my time there, on a regular basis I would be working and feel a tug on my smock and hear someone whisper my name in my ear. I would whip around to see who had done it and of course my co-workers were 15 feet away, with dogs on their tables and clippers running in hand. And no one else around. Patsy (whom I met while working this job) probably also has some goodies she could tell you from this time.
These are not the only spooky experiences I've had, but they're the ones that stand out. Suffice it to say, I'm a believer. What about y'all?
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