I’ve come to an understanding of what I believe can be called "ghosts." They’re not the over-the-top, horror movie Halloween decoration concoctions people like to scoff at. Consequently, these stories may not be the wild Reddit-style horror stories many people seek out but rather a subtler record of the paranormal events in my life. What’s left over when we’re gone is very, even if inexplicably, real.
In my experience, there are three sorts of "ghosts" I find myself believing in. First, there is leftover energy. This is not necessarily something that was a person but rather something that a person felt, such as extreme anger or guilt or fear. Beyond this, it may even just be an action repeated often enough to leave an imprint, even if there is no specific emotion attached. Second, I believe there are confused spirits. I think these are people who don’t completely understand their situation. They may not understand that they have died, or they may not realize where they are supposed to venture after death. They are not completely bad or good, but are in an anxious, muddled state. Finally, there are spirits who understand they are dead but won’t move on for some reason or another. I don’t pretend to understand death or have any idea what we face at the end, so I can’t fathom trying to explain this, but some spirits give the sense of a stronger cognition and intelligence than the other two categories I’ve mentioned.
Approaching my stories with this basic understanding, I will begin with an experience I had before I can even remember. When I was a baby, I lived with my mother and grandmother in a small townhouse. I barely remember this home as an adult, but I know we lived a few years there. There was strange corner in the hallway. We had had a dog that had died before I knew her but who had evidently growled at that specific corner every time she had to pass it. Oddly enough, we had another dog after the first one had died who would bark and growl at the same corner. When we began living in this house, my mother says I was a very content child, meaning I was fine playing on my own in my room and wasn’t particularly fussy. When I was barely learning to talk, apparently, I was sitting on my mother’s lap in the living room, babbling cheerfully when suddenly I turned to the corner the dogs seemed to dislike. Being a very friendly baby and clearly seeing someone there, I began to wave and say, “Hi!” to the shadowy corner. All of a sudden my demeanor shifted, and I got very upset for no evident reason. After that moment, I was a very different child. I was terrified to be in a room alone and would cling to my mother or grandmother, constantly afraid. I don’t remember much from this period of my life, but I do remember being glad when we eventually left that house.
I’ll finish this particular log with a similar story about my cousins. I was five when my first little cousin was born, and, being babysat together often, we were pretty close. There was one day when my two aunts were talking in the kitchen of my aunt’s and cousin’s house, and my little cousin was playing in the hallway. Suddenly, he screamed and began to cry. He ran out to the kitchen where my aunts were frantically asking him what was wrong. He told them there was a “scary man” in the hallway who had frightened him. Upon investigation, of course, there was nothing there.
This would not be so strange a story on its own, except for what happened after. Three years later, my second little cousin was born. Their family still lived in the same house that the first event had occurred in. When my youngest cousin was very little, he would refuse to go down the hallway on his own. When asked why he was so apprehensive of the hallway, he replied that there was a “scary man” who stood at the end.
If you are interested in more stories of my paranormal experiences, please stay tuned for my next posts! I’d particularly like to talk about a haunted doll I once owned. I have a lot to share, so stick around!