Friday, April 3, 2015

Happy Easter Weekend!

Welcome to Easter weekend!


My imitation of this scene from Tim Burton's
The Nightmare Before Christmas earned me
the nickname, "The Bunn", from one of my exes.


I was raised in a good Christian (Lutheran) household.  As a youngster, I was brought up with the traditional stories of Christ dying for our sins on Good Friday and rising again on Easter Sunday.  We celebrated Holy Week and ate fish on Fridays throughout Lent.  I can't recall ever actually giving anything up for Lent, but I think I may have tried a couple of times.

We went to church every Sunday (year-round), but especially during Holy Week.  Palm Sunday brought a collection of palm leaves folded into crosses.  Ash Wednesday found us displaying the ashes of the burned palms on our foreheads throughout the day.  Maundy Thursday and Good Friday found us in church again (I was getting tired of church services at this point).  There was a break on Saturday while we awaited the joyous return of Christ on Sunday.  I also can't forget to include Fasnacht Day - Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras for those outside of the Pennsylvania Dutch area - with the tradition of using the last of the lard to make fasnachts, or doughnuts.

I know my Evangelical calendar is off a bit, but mixed up as it is, it brings back many good memories.

My favorite part of the season was the music and celebrations of Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday.  Our organist was one of the best I've ever known.  The pipe organ we had was a powerful instrument with many stops which belted out the Glory of God to the Heavens.  It was a true celebration when the zymbelstern (a rotating star with bells attached) was engaged and the tinkling bells rang out above the pipes.

As I got into high school, I drew away from the church.  I did go to a Catholic high school, but being one of only a few Protestant students, I was not required to participate in the Catholic traditions.  At one point, curiosity won out and I wandered around the chapel looking at the stations while fellow students followed the Stations of the Cross, but that was he extent of my high school religious career.




Work slowly became more important.  I slowly became a "Holiday Christian".  When our organist passed on, my hometown church was no longer the same and I stopped attending altogether.  I have since sampled several different churches and beliefs and have since formed my own.

I will, however, always hold my childhood memories of the Easter season close.

Several experiences stand out.

My parents stood strong in childhood beliefs, but especially with Santa and the Easter Bunny.

Every Christmas, we would put out eggnog and cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer.  For many years, I couldn't wait to see if  Santa took a bite or if the carrots were gone.  The cookies were always mostly eaten, the eggnog mostly gone and a couple carrot tops would remain on the back porch.

One very special Christmas, I woke to an icy snow cover.  My mother told me that if we were lucky, we might see where Santa and his sleigh landed - our roof was much too steep for him to park and come down the chimney.  Also, we lived in the country, so leaving the back door open for him didn't draw any fear of burglars sneaking in during the night.

Sure enough, when I checked the porch for discarded carrot tops, I found large boot prints leading to and from the back porch.  These led to the back driveway.  There, preserved in the icy crust of the snow, were hoof and sleigh tracks.

I may never remember the gifts I received that year, but the happy memory of those tracks will remain with me for life.

Speaking of tracks, we'll jump to one special springtime memory.

One Easter weekend, a very good friend of my mother came to visit.  She told us that she knew a trick to find out if the Easter Bunny really came to visit.  All we had to do was spread flour across the doorway and the Bunny would track it through the house.  So we tried it.

Sure enough, I came down the next morning to find Bunny tracks from the back door, up the hallway into the dining room.  We always set up our Easter baskets on the dining room table.  I could follow the trail of footprints up a chair, onto the table and around each basket.  The tracks finally hopped off the table, back through the kitchen and out the back door again.


I can't believe they make a pattern for these now!
Back in my day, we used our middle three fingers
for the toes and our thumbs for the back pad.
From tidbitsandtwine.com


While my rational adult mind knows the truth, I will always treasure the evidence I had of Santa and the Easter Bunny.  I believe my parents still have pictures lingering around the house.  That is my proof of a very special childhood.

I'll finish with a tradition that may not be known quite as well.  The tossing of the Maundy Thursday egg.

Easter egg tosses may be better known.  You take an egg and toss it to the ground in front of you.  If it lands on the ground unbroken, you will have good luck.  This comes from a Germanic tradition of throwing a Maundy Thursday egg - it must be laid that day - over your house.  As the tradition goes, the unbroken egg (yes it is raw and NOT hard-boiled) gets buried where it lands.  This special egg will grant good luck to the household for the next year.

My family would follow this tradition for years throughout my childhood.  My brother had a much better pitching arm than I and would always be the one to throw the egg over the house.  He had it down to a science, avoiding trees and clotheslines and the gravel of the back driveway.

The tradition grew every year as friends and neighbors heard of the bizarre practice and asked us to throw over their own houses.  It gradually became an all day affair and even made the newspaper a couple of times.  When I did a Google search for "maundy thursday egg toss", the first two sites that came up were two articles one of our neighbors wrote for the local paper, one for 1983 and one for 1988.

Whether the egg gave good luck or not, I'll never really know, but enough people believed in to keep it going for as long as we could provide the service.

I'll never forget any of these treasured memories.

As an adult, I don't celebrate Easter as I used to.  Occasionally, we'll decorate.  Usually we'll trade cards and chocolate.  One time, probably 15 years ago at this point, I even dressed as the Easter Bunny for the kids at the Capital City mall in Camp Hill, PA.  It was a hot suit - like wrapping myself in a rug - and I remember hanging a bag of ice from the inside top of the head as a form of "air conditioning".  I stank after just a few hours.  It was all worth it though.  No one knew who I was other than my handler and a handful of people at my real job.  I was just another guy in a rabbit costume in another mall, but I was able to provide Easter memories for maybe a hundred children and their families that year, complete with a photo.


My costume was very similar to this one.


This year I celebrate with you.  I give you my memories as a reminder to create your own and start making them with your children and loved ones so they have something to hold onto in the future.

Whether you are celebrating the death and rebirth of Christ or your beliefs go further back to the celebration of new life and the coming of the green season after the death brought on by winter, Happy Easter to you all!


Thursday, March 26, 2015

Six Degrees of... Jason Voorhees?

I love how life's web is so entangled.

As the popular game, "Six Degrees of Separation", proves, two people can (usually) tied to one another in six steps or degrees.  This can also work for two objects, subjects or anything else.  Those not familiar with it may recognize it as "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon", in which you can tie Kevin Bacon to any other actor in one way or another.

One of my favorite recurring articles in the magazine, Mental Floss, was written by Ken Jennings of Jeopardy fame.  He would challenge readers to give him any two objects, people or places and he would link them within six steps.  Some of the links might be a stretch, but they worked.


Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon from maxdemarzi.com


This game came to mind as I was re-watching the original Friday the 13th last night.

Toward the beginning of the movie, one of the girls needs to get a ride from town to Camp Crystal Lake.  The man that give her a ride says he'll take her halfway and someone will pick her up.  The halfway point happens to be the Moravian Cemetery in Hope, NJ.

Now, I've watched this movie a few times.  I like to retain a healthy respect for some of the classic slasher flicks.  This time, however, something clicked in my mind as familiar.

How do I know this place?  Cue Google maps.

First off, I brought up the cemetery.  You can tell from the movie that it had to be a real location and it is.

I didn't see anything immediately around the cemetery that struck a bell, so I brought up Hope, NJ.

That's when I recognized the area.  Just outside the town limits is a spooky stretch of road called Shades of Death Road.  No joke.  That's the name.  It borders Jenny Jump State Forest on the east side.  Both of these areas were covered by Jack Osbourne in one of his episodes of Haunted Highways a couple years ago.



Reportedly, apparitions can be seen while driving the road at night.  One of these was thought to be caught on film during the episode that aired.  Jack and the gang also cover nearby Ghost Lake on which spirits of the local Native Americans can be seen rising like mist from the surface.

I think it is so cool that such a classic slasher flick was filmed near such a cool haunted area!

Camp Crystal Lake is nearby, north of Hope.  As a side note, Moravian Cemetery is not halfway between the town and the camp.  The cemetery is, in fact, just south of the town.

Camp Crystal Lake is an actual camp by name of Camp No-Be-Bo-Sco, a boy scout camp in Hardwick NJ.  Like any campground, No-Be-Bo-Sco has it's ghost stories and legends.

In the early '40's, a plane crashed into a local mountain killing six.  Supposedly, anyone staying at the camp that hiked through the crash site would be affected.  If they had any possessions from that time or earlier, those items would disappear overnight, only to be found at the crash site the next day.

Another legend says there was a man who killed kids by bashing their heads with rocks.  While I've found several documentations of the plane crash, I've only found one mention of this murderer.  However, every camp needs a good story to keep the campers in their cabins at night.  I know the church camps I stayed at as a kid had them!

So, if you need a haunted road trip, go check out this area near Hope, NJ.  If you'd rather see what others have supposedly seen, check out YouTube.  There's a few videos there to take a look at.  My favorite is the episode of Haunted Highways.  If you can't find it On Demand, it is available on Amazon, iTunes and Vudu.  It also includes a great story about a deadly train crash.




Oh! And my six degrees of separation?

I enjoy paranormal investigation television shows, including (1)Haunted Highways, whose team leader, Jack Osbourne, investigated (2)Shades of Death Road, which is just south of the real life (3)Camp Crystal Lake, the setting of the first (4)Friday the 13th movie, in which (5)Jason Voorhees' mother killed a character played by (6)Kevin Bacon.


Sunday, March 22, 2015

On Writing

It's been a while since I've written anything.  I can't say it's because I don't want to or can't.  I just haven't.

I've think part of it is because I've periodically been experiencing bouts of depression.  While the winter has been nice, it has been affecting me in more of a negative aspect.  I'm still discovering how my condition(s) affect me - apparently the cold and gray weather are no longer my friends.

It is my understanding that there are those out there that do miss my writings and ramblings.  I've heard from friends that they have family members that read this blog and wonder why I stopped.  I didn't even know they read it!  My own father-in-law has asked why I stopped.  Truthfully, it is hard to believe there are people reading this.  Yes, I look at the stats of the blog and can see there are a few people who take a look at it - some from around the world!  I rarely see any comments on the writing.

I know it is not essential or even required to leave a comment about reading an article or ramble.  I'm guilty myself.  I only leave comments on things I've seen that have really struck me in some strong way.  I don't mean to sound like I'm begging for a comment.  That is by no means my intention, but it is nice to know when my words have meant something to someone.

ANYWAY, that's not why I'm writing today.  That's just to let everyone know I am still alive and okay.



As I sit hear with lazy Jack snoring beside me, I'm impelled to discuss my views on some writing I've seen recently.  I say views, but it is really more of a selection of pet peeves.

I've recently read some short horror stories by an author published on Smashwords.com.  I am sure he's a cool guy and has some great ideas.  In fact, some of his stories are creative, but...

While I will not sit here and say that my writing is the best in the world and English was my best subject in school, but his writing skills are atrocious.  I really had to check out his website to understand this guy is an adult.  The stories he has written seem to be written by a kid in elementary school; I'm sure there are some kids that would write - and talk - with some of the language he uses.

Please understand that I am in no way offended by a sailor's mouth.  The language is not a problem for me.  The grammar, on the other hand, is a big issue.  First off, many people understandably use spell check.  Spell check is our friend!  Unfortunately, many forget about homophones!  In the stories I've read, I don't think I've found many correct usages of any of the derivatives of the word "there".  You know - there, their or they're.  It would be nice if there were a spell check that would catch homophonic mistakes.

Of course, those are not the only mistakes that have driven my mental editor crazy.  Completely misspelling a word as another word that is spelled correctly is a mistake that is very hard to accomplish.  It has been done, though.  One story I read had a part in which the character was imagining something.  The problem was that the character was "imaging" it instead of "imagining" it.

I also don't know how many more times I can tolerate one of his characters saying they seen something.  Come on people, you either saw it or you have seen it.  There's nothing in between.

Now, let's talk about sentence structure.  I don't mean the fact that there should be a noun and verb, etc.  I'm talking about run-on sentences.  We've all seen them.  I know several people that seem to only write in run-ons!  I've read posts on Facebook that drive me nuts!

i went out today and i cant believe what happened that stupid person ran me off the road on theyre way to work i dont know what im supposed to do it made me so mad

Wow! I almost didn't make it through writing that sentence!

At least, the author I'm referring to uses capitals.  He also uses punctuation... Much, too much, punctuation.  This guy bleeds commas.

That's what has been driving me insane for the last couple of days.  The worst part is that, for some reason, I keep reading his stories.  It's as if I am convinced I can find one - JUST ONE - that has no issues.  I'm not losing anything from it, except maybe a few brain cells.  His short stories are free and many are based on urban legends, which are somewhat entertaining.



If you want to check out some of these stories and see for yourself what they are like, look for Drac Von Stoller on Nook, Kindle, Smashwords or any other e-book outlet.  You can also see his website at http://dracvonstoller.wix.com/drac.

Will you be scared more by his words or his style of writing?

Friday, October 31, 2014

Mythological Creatures That Are Real


My favorite, the Narwhal.  The unicorn of the sea.  Photo from www.worldwildlife.org

Happy Halloween to everyone!

Although I've had a relatively good day today, I'm running out of steam and ready for bed.  I did, however, come across an interesting listing that goes along with my cryptid collection of blogs.

I just happened across it, but it does show that there is a lot about our world that we still don't know and/or are still learning.  The article shows many animals that we know of now that were once considered mythological in many cultures: those creatures that would be called cryptids.

Click on the link and enjoy!   Mythological creatures that are real.

I also have a small collection of pictures showing here.

Until next time, have a happy and safe Halloween!


The Okapi, once only known by tribes in northeastern Zaire.  Photo from stlouis.cbslocal.com
The Platypus.  Thought of more as a hoax than anything else.  Photo from www.environment.nsw.gov.au
The Devil-bird.  An omen feared by Sri Lankans.  Photo from wereblog.com
Giant Panda - I'm surprised it was not mentioned in the article.  The first living specimen seen by a Westerner (and therefore recognized by science) was in 1916.  Photo from listverse.com

Thursday, October 30, 2014

The Psychopath Next Door

Now, I know that online tests are just for fun.  Think BuzzFeed and such.  There's no scientific proof behind them.  It's an algorithm where you plug in a value for each answer, add them up at the end and the final value falls into a spectrum of outcomes.  You find them all over the web and in various magazines.

We've all taken them.  I like the ones that test my video game knowledge at the back of Game Informer.  I've also wondered which Disney villain I am, what color my personality is and what kind of mythological beast I would be.

The answers come out like a newspaper horoscope.  However you read it, some parts fit and some don't.  Each answer can usually be fit to your personality.


Jeffrey Dahmer   Picture taken from www.nydailynews.com


It turns out I would be a centaur if I were mythological.  In the afterlife, I would be Death.  I am also the third to die in a horror movie.  Of all the My Little Ponies, I identify most with Fluttershy.

Yes, I've taken my share of online quizzes.

Today I took a rather interesting one that, I'll freely admit, freaked me out a little bit.  This was one from Playbuzz.com called Are You a Psychopath?  Click the link to try it out.

According to the test, I am.

While watching Stalker on TV, I got to thinking.


Ed Gein, the original and inspiration for Leatherface (Texas Chainsaw Massacre) and inspiration for Norman Bates (Psycho) and Buffalo Bill (Silence of the Lambs) among others.  Photo taken from en.wikipedia.org


Maybe it's just the fact that Halloween is right around the corner.  Fear is in the air.  The world is in turmoil.  We have ongoing wars with terrorist groups.  People are getting killed everyday.  Children are being kidnapped.  Bodies are being found and identified.  And some aren't.

Maybe it is any one of those things.  Maybe it's something else.

If someone took a look at what I am interested in, the books I read, the television series I watch...  If someone took a look at me and didn't really know who I was, would they see a Psychopath?  Would that person think a Serial Killer lived in my house?  Could a Sociopath be watching my TV?

I'm not sure I wouldn't be convinced.

For one thing, I do root for the anti-hero.  One of my favorites is Lestat, the vampire.  Not the one Tom Cruise played in the movie - he was more protagonistic than he should have been.  Besides, Interview with the Vampire was more about Louis.  I also wasn't a big fan of Queen of the Damned.  Yes, it was fun to watch, but not a good representation of the characters.

I liked the Lestat from the books.  I enjoyed the Lestat that was mysterious, dark and philosophical.  I craved the Lestat that understood the evil in the hearts of men and the darkness within his own.

Our actual bookshelves may not be a good example of my tastes, though you can definitely tell which are mine.  You will find Jaws and The Exorcist next to The Cat Who... series.  Patricia Cornwell's study on Jack the Ripper sits next to Adam Richman's food bio.  Need I say more?

I also tend more toward stories about the chaos of dystopian society than the order and organization of the utopian.


Ronnie and Reggie Kray, the infamous Kray twins.   Picture from www.telegraph.co.uk


If one were to take a look at my Netflix listing, they might find some more questionable picks.

Sure, I like my share of Disney movies and comedies.  But next to those few peppered into my listing, they are the light amidst a much darker selection.  Reefer Madness, Cannibal the Musical, The Ed Gein Story.  I like my horror stories.  Even better, I like scary fiction based on real life.  I really get a kick out of it when they take a horrible real-life story and make fun of it.  Do I have a sick sense of humor?

My DVR captures American Horror Story: Freakshow, Stalker, Hannibal, The Following, The Strain, The Walking Dead.  All of them have one or a selection of psychopaths to choose from.  I love Bates Motel!  That's the prequel to the original Psycho!  One of my absolute favorites is Doctor Who.  Sure, you say.  Nothing wrong with that, right?  Other than the Doctor is the definition of a Psychopath, albeit one with a more positive agenda: a person with a psychopathic personality, which manifests as amoral and antisocial behavior, lack of ability to love or establish meaningful personal relationships, extreme egocentricity, failure to learn from experience, etc.

I also have a fascination with documentaries.  Not just any documentaries, either.  I like the ones about disasters and epidemics through history.  I've watched all kinds about Hitler and the Nazis.  I could tell you all about H.H.Holmes and the Chicago World's Fair.  The stories and ideas presented about Lizzie Borden are all very interesting.  When they made a TV movie about Bonnie and Clyde, I couldn't wait to watch it.


Lizzie Borden took an axe, Gave her mother forty whacks.  When she saw what she had done, She gave her father forty-one.  Picture from www.crimearchives.net


Give me a crime solving documentary series and I will eat it up!  Not only am I interested in unsolved mysteries, but I find it interesting to see how a crime was committed and what kind of forensics were used to solve it.  One episode of a show was about a murder in an area near where I used to live in Pennsylvania.  That hit close to home.  And then to find out that they proved the guy's alibi was wrong because they were able to prove that the angle of the sun and shadows in the pictures he provided were totally wrong for the time of day he said he was out on the lake.  That's pretty cool stuff!  He didn't think about that.  I doubt I would have in his place, at least not until I saw that show.

Add all of that to my bizarre and maybe somewhat morbid interest in the supernatural, paranormal and all things cryptid and I'm a virtual playground for some psychologist.

Is this normal?  Am I a little crazy?  A lot crazy?

Or will my neighbor be talking to Pat Collins on NBC News4 saying, "I never would have guessed.  He was such a nice quiet man.  Kept to himself.  Never caused any trouble.  I've talked to him a few times - he seemed quite friendly.  He'd say hello whenever he saw me.  Who would have known?"

Who, indeed?


John Wayne Gacy as "Pogo the Clown".   Picture taken from www.freeinfosociety.com




Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Angels in Our Midst

I was raised in a religious family.  My father went to Gettysburg Seminary to become a Lutheran minister.  My mother taught at a Franciscan private boarding school and a Catholic high school.  My brother attended the Franciscan high school and I went to a Catholic high school.  We were raised Lutheran in a small town that either went to the Lutheran church or the Methodist church.  We all have spent time singing in the choir and reading lessons from the Bible during services.

Both of my parents are well known in their church.  They are members of the church council.  My father will step in to help with services.

My brother has married a beautiful Jewish woman and has converted to Judaism.  They have raised three wonderful children who carry a great respect for their faith.

I carry my own beliefs.  Being raised Lutheran, attending Catholic school, observing my brother and sister-in-law's faith, I've had a chance to observe a couple different takes on religion.  In high school, I did a comparative study on several other religions vs. ancient religions/mythologies.  While I do believe in an Ultimate Good and conversely, an Ultimate Evil, I am not willing to give either a name or label like God or Goddess or Devil.  When I do refer to God or the Devil, it is in respect to my Christian upbringing.  It also makes my religious references easier to understand by the more common names.

That being said, what about angels?


Winged Figure by Abbott Handerson Thayer c.1889  Picture from galleryhip.com


Traditionally, angels symbolize the seraphim and the celestial hierarchy.  We recognize them in art and symbiology as humanoid beings with wings, a halo of light around their heads and white robes.  Some are shown as cherubs, usually male baby angels with wings, though also shown sexless in many references.  Angels are normally recognized as being sexless, though for the sake of humanizing them, some artists have made them male or female.

I'm not going to get into the celestial hierarchy here.  While it is an extremely fascinating subject, it has nothing to do with the subject of my post.

I am more interested right now with angels on earth.

We've all heard the Nativity Story as it is told in the Bible.  One doesn't need to be a Christian to know it and most Christians can recite it to some degree.

In the story, the angel, Gabriel, came to the virgin, Mary, to deliver the news of her pregnancy.  A choir of angels announced the coming birth of the Messiah to a group of shepherds.  Most nativity scenes show an angel as being present at the birth of Jesus.  This is when many Christians may tell you the angels were first documented as sharing our space on Earth.

If you take a look at the Old Testament, you will find that angels were present at the Creation.  You may also remember that Lucifer was originally an angel, the Morning Star fallen from Heaven to become Satan, the Adversary.

Those, among others, are the stories of the Bible, but what of angels today?


Photo from angelghosts.com


We hear stories of angels appearing across the world.  People have reported seeing angels during near-death experiences.  Others claim to have caught an angel on film.  These pictures can be found across the Internet.  Whether they are random cloud formations, light caught just the right way, spirits caught on film or real life angels, I can't say.

I can only tell you of the angel I have encountered in my own life.

My story happened about 13 - 14 years ago.  A lot was going on at that time, so I can't really pinpoint the day, let alone the month.  I was in a very bad relationship.  My job was good, but it was my first as a manager and my boss had her favorites, of which I was not one.  I went through three cars in a year.  Alcohol was again becoming a solution to my problems.  With all of these as factors, it's no wonder I can't remember the full circumstances of the incident.

What I do remember is that I locked my keys in my car.  I was supposed to be somewhere that evening - I think I was visiting a friend for some much needed support.  Her husband was going to drive me to their house and had followed me home.  Getting out of the car, the keys got left and I needed them to get something from my apartment before we went to their place.

I had Roadside Assistance, so I called.  I was told they would be there in about an hour, so we settled in the husband's car to wait.  Two and a half hours later, it was starting to get dark.  We needed to get going and my assistance was still 45 minutes out.  We decided to take matters into our own hands.

Digging around his car, we found a wire hanger and a small flashlight.  We went to work, taking turns trying to break into my car with no luck.  Darkness was quickly closing in.

It was the beginning of a bad joke: A Lutheran and a Seventh-Day Adventist try to break into a car.

After about 20 minutes, a car came flying down the street and screeched to a stop behind my car.  A guy jumped out of the driver's seat, went to the trunk of his car to grab a jimmy set and used it to pop my car lock open.  Without even waiting for a thank you, he jumped back into his car, backed out of the driveway and sped on his way.  Afterward, we called Roadside Assistance, thanked them for their "effort" and told them we no longer needed help.

To this day, I have no idea who this man was.  He was young and I think there was a young woman in the car next to him.  He barely said a word, only that he saw we needed help and that he had the jimmy to open the car door.

He didn't drive past and back up to see if we needed help.  He barely even slowed down.  He didn't even park directly behind me.  He was speeding down the street and screeched to a stop at a diagonal behind my car.

I don't know how he even knew we needed help.  When he pulled in, we were standing at the car, taking a quick break from our break-in.  My friend's husband and I were talking and didn't see the car until it stopped, its headlights illuminating us and the car.  He couldn't have seen any indication of what we had been doing.

Yet, somehow he knew.  Maybe he saw some indication that I can't put my finger on.  Maybe something told him we needed help.  I'm inclined to think of him as an angel.


Picture from m.kosmixmedia.com


I may not be religious in the Christian sense.  I hold strong to my own beliefs.  I know there is good and evil.  I believe in the spiritual, the paranormal and the supernatural.

My angel didn't have wings or a halo.  He wasn't even wearing white.  He didn't float down from Heaven in a shaft of bright light.  There was no celestial chorus.

My angel arrived in a fast car.  He left tire tracks across a corner of my lawn.  His radio was blasting heavy metal.  He jimmied my car like a professional thief.

My angel showed me proof of angels in our midst.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Spooks in the Dark

My bedtime routine is pretty, well, routine.

When I a) realize I'm getting tired or b) realize the time and need to get to bed, I shut down the computer, TV and living room light to head off to slumber.  I'm fairly night-blind once the light goes off, but thankfully there is some residual light that comes from the street through our living room window.

So after lights out, I feel my way down the hallway.  I make a quick stop in the restroom, blind myself again when that light goes off, and shuffle into the bedroom.  Once there, I close the bedroom door far enough to leave a finger-width opening so the dog can paw open the door when he needs a drink or the cat can push her way in to join us on the bed (or wake us in the morning!)

Once in the bedroom, there's enough residual light between the cracks in the curtains and the digital alarm clock to find my way to bed, fit my CPAP mask (with the machine adding a little more light when it is turned on), plug in my earplugs, give the dog and husband a goodnight pat and settle in for the night.

OK, it's pretty boring and possibly more than you really wanted to know.  The point is that it is a routine and doesn't change.  When something is different, it is noticed.

Sometimes, I get a chill that sends the hair on the back of neck standing on edge.  Another time, the hallway is a little darker than normal.  Occasionally, I get a little creeped out before turning on the bathroom light to see there's nothing there but me and the bathroom.

Most of this can be attributed to a couple of different things: 1. I like horror movies and TV shows, 2. I do some late-night research on monsters and creepy legends, 3. humans have a primal fear of the dark and things that go bump in the night.

Not everything can be explained away that easily.

Everyone in our house has seen a human-size figure pass by out of the corner our eyes.  Our roommate's bird, who normally doesn't make a sound unless he hears or sees someone nearby, will start making a racket when no one has gone downstairs.  The 18-year-old cat sits in places Morningstar would lay and caterwaul, as if mourning his passing.  Jack has stared at a space under the dresser and barked his head off - unusual because he's not a barker and the space was a favorite hiding space for my well-loved cat.  I will occasionally toe-bump a lump pushing out the bed skirt and hear a small mew.  Strange? No, unless the only cat we have is sleeping in the living room.  Also, she's not one to lie half hidden by the bed skirt.  That was Morningstar's hiding place.

One night, I left the cat snoozing on the couch and headed toward bed.  I followed my nightly routine, closing the bedroom door behind me and preparing to settle in.  Sitting on the bed, I could hear the twin snoring of dog and husband.  After I fitted my mask and plugs, I picked up the dog so I wouldn't kick him off the bed when I laid down.  He moved off my chest and settled back into his state of ragdogness between me and my husband.  I don't think he even woke up!


Not my bedroom... just setting the scene.  Photo from ticket-to-deepness.blogspot.com


That's when things got a little strange.  I could see light coming from the direction of the living room - the bedroom door had apparently come open.  This is not unusual because the door will sometimes open a little due to a draft, but this time the door was open the whole way.

I can also fully see the digital face of the alarm clock from where I lay.  Every couple of minutes, the numbers disappear as if something is passing in front of the clock.  It is quick; they are only gone for a second.  At this point I am fully awake with no desire to sleep - only to watch.  I can feel that primal fear and try to push it down, all the while chanting in my head, "Close the door and go away. Close the door and go away."

My husband rolls over, shifting his snore.  The dog spreads out to claim the new open territory.  I can hear that Zippy is awake, now caterwauling in the hallway.

The shadow figure passes in front of the clock a couple more times, pacing a total of six times before the numbers stay visible.  I do a quick check of my blind spot - I find it, but not in the position I was laying and looking at the clock.  I can feel a cold spot to my right, beside the bed.  Looking toward the ceiling and the patch of dim light cast by my CPAP machine, I notice that it is partially obstructed, but not by a static shape.

I can see that the door is still open, by the dim light cast from the living room window.  As I watch, it starts to close again.  As that patch of light narrows, the area of luminescence on the ceiling grows to its normal size.

Zipity caterwauls one last time from the kitchen and all is back to normal.  That primal fear creeps back to its lair, deep in the recesses of my mind.  The whole experience lasted about twenty minutes.

Despite the primal fear of things unknown, I felt that there wasn't anything that could hurt me.  I didn't feel endangered.  Mostly, I was in awe.  It's been a long time since I've had anything like this happen to me.  I'm out of practice.  I'm no longer used to it.  I was caught off-guard.

I'm no stranger to the paranormal.  The supernatural has always been a great interest of mine.  I believe in many things that haven't been proven real.  I also believe that many of those things have not yet been disproven.  Of those things I have seen, I can't say how many were honest-to-goodness experiences compared to those few that may have been trumped up by an overactive imagination.  I do not have physical evidence to share; I have only my memories.  Those I share here are the clearest.

I grew up in a haunted house.  Our home had been around since the mid 1800's.  It has plenty of history, has most likely seen the Civil War, and has been home to many families.  It has been a farm, apartments and a Bed and Breakfast.  My parents still live there and do not wish for it to become a hot spot for paranormal investigators.  In my own opinion, there are better places to find proof.  To my knowledge, there haven't been any record-worthy incidents in the since I left home.

We had a guardian spirit.

At some point in its history, our house was home to a farmer.  We aren't sure of the full story, but one record suggests he was killed in an accident not far from the property.  My guess is that he loved his land enough to watch over it in the afterlife.  We've always called him Joe, though we've since learned the two owners were separate people.

Originally, the five-acre farm consisted of a large two-story barn, a carriage house and the old two-story farm house.  People have reported seeing a figure watching them from a window in the upper part of the barn.  Whether a reflection or a spirit, no one knows for sure.

Shortly after my parents took possession of the property, that barn was destroyed in a wind storm.  Anything that was light enough, i.e. the tin roof and some of the boards, was blown toward the residence.  The only thing that stopped them from doing any damage was the clothes line set up in the yard between the house and barn.

By the time I came along in '75, there was a smaller barn for the goats and later, the sheep.  The large barn and carriage house had come down.  The foundation of the barn would be used for pigs.  A small hen house had been erected and a summer house turned garage stood next to the house.

In the twenty years I lived there, I can't recall ever hearing strange noises.  Things weren't moved around and there was no poltergeist activity.  Aside from a couple of times that will not be discussed tonight, I never really felt in danger.  The only areas of the house I didn't like going to were the basement (spiders) and the attic (it was very creepy).  Otherwise, my childhood home was a safe haven.

My first memory of seeing anything strange was a figure crouched behind my parents' bedroom door.  I couldn't have been more than five or six years old.  I think I may have been playing hide and seek.  Because someone was there (I felt no danger), I went to find a different hiding spot.  By the time I was found, my mind had moved on to other things and I never told anyone about the person I saw.


My childhood home, today.


The most sightings I can recall were between 1984 and 1989.

During that time, my mother was a teacher at the Franciscan high school my brother attended.  Most of the teachers were the priests who lived on-campus.  In an effort to help them get some time off-campus, some of the staff meetings were held at lay teachers' homes.  Our home was large, so it was ideal for some of these meetings.

A couple of the most notable sightings of Joe were by these teachers and men-of-the-cloth.  Several teachers had been asking who the new teacher was.  They had seen a man wearing glasses, black pants and a white shirt standing on the upstairs balcony.  Mom had to change pace and explain about Joe and how he was seen around the property.

I saw him again in either '88 or '89, but I can't say for sure.  It was a clear and beautiful day.  I know I hadn't reached high school, because I hadn't moved into my brother's room over the garage, yet.  I still had the room we shared until he hit high school.  There was a window facing the barnyard and another facing the road.

One day I stayed home from school, sick.  I don't know what prompted me to look outside.  Maybe something just caught my attention, maybe I heard a noise.  I looked out to see the goats and sheep had broken through a gate near the barn and were moving into the yard.  I turned away from the window to try and figure out what to do.  When I turned back, there was a man wearing glasses, a white shirt and black pants putting the gate back on its hinges.  Once he herded the animals back into the pasture and closed the gate, he turned, looked up and waved directly at me.  It was as if he knew I would be at the window looking at him.  He then walked across the yard toward the road.

By the time I crossed my room, maybe eight feet from window to window, the man was gone from view.  There was no trace of a vehicle or of him walking down the road.  By the time I crossed the room, he shouldn't have even made it to the road.  And he was gone.

I told my mom about it a few years later.  Even though she knew about him, how could I tell her a flesh-and-blood man fixed the gate then disappeared into thin air?  Needless to say, she believed me and said it must have been Joe.

I don't know of any other physical manifestations from Joe since that time.  I have seen other apparitions around the house, though.

We had two dogs while I was growing up.  One, my brother's, was a Dalmatian named Nipper.  Every year, I would visit my grandparents in Hornell, New York and every year when I got home, Nipper would curl up beside the foot of my bed and spend the night beside me.  The last time I visited my grandparents was also the year after Nipper passed.  I came home like normal and went to bed that night.  I woke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.  There, sleeping in a pool of moonlight beside the foot of my bed, was Nipper, taking his post as he had for so many years.  He was still there when I returned from the bathroom.  He didn't move and I didn't dare touch him.  I went back to sleep knowing my sentinel was protecting me.

The other animal spirit at my parents' home is more easily observed than physically seen.  When our poodle, Ani, passed, we spread her ashes around the pond my parents had dug in the pasture when the goats and sheep were gone.  Their home was a favorite of hers.  Even when her little body was filled with cancer, she would get excited when we arrived and would leap out of the car to run down to the pond.  Before greeting anyone else, Ani would run around the pond a couple of times.  This was the most exercise she would ever voluntarily take.

The first time she visited, she even explored the edge of the pond, finding one particular spot where she could get close enough to inspect the water.  The poor puppy got too close and fell right in!  She got out safely, but never needed to get a close up look at the pond or koi living in it again.


Looking across the pond.  Both dogs fell in just to the left of the long grass.  Photo taken by J. Wachhaus.


Jack, our Shih Tzu mix, followed Ani into our lives.  Jon has told me of his dream in which Ani was playing in a meadow as if to say it was OK to take in another dog.  Shortly after, Jon decided to visit the local animal shelter and found Jack.  Out of all the dogs barking to get his attention, this one just sat staring at Jon, as if to say he took long enough to get there.  The two went into one of the play rooms and the pup peed on him - another good sign, as good choice dogs in his past had done the same.

Jon came home to consider the decision he needed to make.  He had another dream of Ani, this time playing with the new dog.  He took this as a sign that she approved.  Jon told me about the experience and we decided to go pick him up.

Jack adjusted well to the family.  During his first visit to the farm, we took him down to the pond to run around.  He inspected the edge just as Ani had done and fell (maybe got pushed?) in at the exact spot she had done.  Afterward, he started running around the pond, looking over his shoulder as if he was playing with another dog.  We believe he plays with Ani every time we visit the pond.

I've had several other experiences outside my home that are worth mentioning.

During a time after high school when I felt more in touch with my spiritual self than ever before, I was driving with several friends.  During that night, I saw a male figure in the rear view mirror, sitting  between the two girls in the back seat.  He stayed with us for a good portion of the ride, but was gone by the time we reached our destination.  I was the only other male in the car.

You may have also heard stories of hitchhiking ghosts.  While I've never witnessed one of these and I don't think the one I just mentioned counts, I have seen what I call "runners".  These are similar to those shadow people we see out of the corner of our eyes; those dark figures slightly blacker than the shadows of the room.  These runners are out as a warning to drivers.  I have seen them during the day, but mostly at night.  They tend to remain on back roads and move across the road in front of the car.  I suppose their purpose is to slow the car down to a safe speed.  It's almost as if they want to get hit, only to disappear by the time they reach the opposite side of the road.

My final story is of another guardian.  This one would watch over me when I lived in the Scranton area.

I was living in a house owned by my fiance's grandparents.  They lived downstairs while I had the second floor.  My apartment consisted of four rooms.  Coming up the stairs, the kitchen was at the back of the house, the living room in the middle and the bedroom at the front.  A long hallway ran beside the stairwell connecting all three.  The bathroom was at the front of the house on the right, behind the stairs.

I give you the layout so you can understand what I heard at night.  It was disconcerting at first, but after my fiancee explained what was going on, it became comforting.

Most nights, though not every one, I would hear footsteps in the hallway.  They would start by the kitchen and work their way down the hallway, pausing at the living room and again at my bedroom door.  The first couple of times, I would stay in my bed and stare at the door.  I like to sleep with my door closed.  I think I would have been more scared if the door opened, but it never did.  After the pause by my door, the footsteps would head back to the kitchen.  This would only happen once during the nights when it did happen.


The Scranton house.  Picture from Google Earth


The house had been previously  owned by my fiance's great grandparents.  The bedrooms were all originally on the second floor, where I lived.  The largest room, the kitchen, was presumably the master bedroom.  Every night, her great grandmother would check the childrens' bedrooms to make sure they were safe in bed.  I took comfort that she still had her ritual and was making sure I was safe and sound in my bed.

There are some crazy horror stories out there.  I take heed when I hear them or tell my own as cautionary tales.  My stories tonight are only of those spirits I never felt threatened by.  While I know there are harmful ghosts out there, I believe there are more that watch over us protectively, both human and animal.  They may not make their presence known all the time, but when they do, thank them for watching over you.