Thursday= Ghost Stories!
Well, clearly yesterday was a complete bust- no movie review 'cause I was far away from my computer, celebrating the 4th at my sister's house in the Boonies. Next Wednesday will be the movie Chronicle, and Book Review tomorrow will be Beautiful Demons, (Peachville High Demons: Book One) by Sarra Canon.
Actually, I'm in the middle of doing edits on the first 6-chapter chunk of Buried, but my eyes were starting to cross, so when Curiosity Quills tweeted about my blog a few minutes ago, I figured it was as good a time as any to get around to the Thursday post. Now, as I stated on Tuesday, readers are invited to share their own stories, as well. There is no requirement for it to be spooky, creepy or scary (because not all brushes with the paranormal are), but it is required that it be a truthful telling and that, if you are relating someone else's story, you trust the validity of the individual AND that person is okay with you sharing the tale.
Here's one to start off:
The backdrop needed to understand this is that (I know I mentioned this previously, but I'm restating for those dropping by for the first time) I live in my great grandmother's house- the top floor of a two family home (my grandmother lives in the first floor house). Great gram'ma, Mary Zenzian (maiden name Capp), was psychic- incidents from predicting my sister's birth to the year as my mother and father walked out of the church on their wedding day to go to the reception, to feeling it when her brother, a cook in the army during WWI had received a severe grease burn on the face. I spent a lot of days, from infancy to the age of four (when she passed away) with her. As you can imagine, I don't remember much, but my mother says there was a connection between gram'ma and me, and seeing I'm the only one to even inherit a touch of Mary's 'gift', I would say I'm inclined to believe mom.
Okay, enough background info.
About a month after we first moved in, my husband and I were tasked with spending a week house/pet sitting for my parents. The day we're supposed to leave I'm puttering back and forth across the house, making certain the everything is packed and ready to go for the excursion. It was the first morning since moving in that I'd been forced to make instant coffee, 'cause we were out of ground. I don't even know what made me notice it, but I walked through the kitchen and noticed that the coffee maker had been switched on. It wasn't fully electric- one has to manually press the button to start the pot. I don't think much of it, I just switch it off and keep going about what I'm doing.
Then it happens again, 4 or 5 times, again. Now, my husband wouldn't touch the coffee maker 'cause if our house has a barista, then it's me, and he knows it, and our son, Alex, was only 1 at the time and not nearly tall enough to reach the counte the coffee maker was on. I can't figure out what's happening, but I don't want to leave the house with the thing plugged in, in case it keeps malfunctioning, which could possibly start an electrical fire. I unplug it and we leave for the house sitting chore.
At the end of the week, my mother helps us bring all of our stuff (and Alex) back into the house and we cross through the kitchen. I see the coffee maker (now, thankfully having ground coffee in my possession) and I- thinking I'm joking- quip to my mother, "Did gram'ma have a thing about coffee?"
My mother just looks at me for a moment and then says, "Yeah. She would get up before anyone else in the morning and put a fresh pot of coffee on the stove- you could smell it throughout both floors. Why?"
So, I tell her about what happened while we were packing.
Her vulcan-plucked eyebrows shoot up and she says, "Your great grandmother clearly doesn't want you drinking instant coffee."
Twelve years later, I have only ever had instant coffee in extreme, caffeine-deprived emergency . . . and I apologize aloud for it every, single time.
**See, not spooky, or scary, or any of that. Not that some stories won't be . . . . ;)
Actually, I'm in the middle of doing edits on the first 6-chapter chunk of Buried, but my eyes were starting to cross, so when Curiosity Quills tweeted about my blog a few minutes ago, I figured it was as good a time as any to get around to the Thursday post. Now, as I stated on Tuesday, readers are invited to share their own stories, as well. There is no requirement for it to be spooky, creepy or scary (because not all brushes with the paranormal are), but it is required that it be a truthful telling and that, if you are relating someone else's story, you trust the validity of the individual AND that person is okay with you sharing the tale.
Here's one to start off:
The backdrop needed to understand this is that (I know I mentioned this previously, but I'm restating for those dropping by for the first time) I live in my great grandmother's house- the top floor of a two family home (my grandmother lives in the first floor house). Great gram'ma, Mary Zenzian (maiden name Capp), was psychic- incidents from predicting my sister's birth to the year as my mother and father walked out of the church on their wedding day to go to the reception, to feeling it when her brother, a cook in the army during WWI had received a severe grease burn on the face. I spent a lot of days, from infancy to the age of four (when she passed away) with her. As you can imagine, I don't remember much, but my mother says there was a connection between gram'ma and me, and seeing I'm the only one to even inherit a touch of Mary's 'gift', I would say I'm inclined to believe mom.
Okay, enough background info.
About a month after we first moved in, my husband and I were tasked with spending a week house/pet sitting for my parents. The day we're supposed to leave I'm puttering back and forth across the house, making certain the everything is packed and ready to go for the excursion. It was the first morning since moving in that I'd been forced to make instant coffee, 'cause we were out of ground. I don't even know what made me notice it, but I walked through the kitchen and noticed that the coffee maker had been switched on. It wasn't fully electric- one has to manually press the button to start the pot. I don't think much of it, I just switch it off and keep going about what I'm doing.
Then it happens again, 4 or 5 times, again. Now, my husband wouldn't touch the coffee maker 'cause if our house has a barista, then it's me, and he knows it, and our son, Alex, was only 1 at the time and not nearly tall enough to reach the counte the coffee maker was on. I can't figure out what's happening, but I don't want to leave the house with the thing plugged in, in case it keeps malfunctioning, which could possibly start an electrical fire. I unplug it and we leave for the house sitting chore.
At the end of the week, my mother helps us bring all of our stuff (and Alex) back into the house and we cross through the kitchen. I see the coffee maker (now, thankfully having ground coffee in my possession) and I- thinking I'm joking- quip to my mother, "Did gram'ma have a thing about coffee?"
My mother just looks at me for a moment and then says, "Yeah. She would get up before anyone else in the morning and put a fresh pot of coffee on the stove- you could smell it throughout both floors. Why?"
So, I tell her about what happened while we were packing.
Her vulcan-plucked eyebrows shoot up and she says, "Your great grandmother clearly doesn't want you drinking instant coffee."
Twelve years later, I have only ever had instant coffee in extreme, caffeine-deprived emergency . . . and I apologize aloud for it every, single time.
**See, not spooky, or scary, or any of that. Not that some stories won't be . . . . ;)
I'm with your great grandmother on the instant coffee thing, haha!
ReplyDeleteMy husband and I moved into our new home just over a year ago, and ever since we arrived the house has been a one-stop shop of activity. 98% of the time it's all pretty mild; footsteps down the hallway when no one else is home (usually early morning), catching glimpses of shadow figures (recently I've been catching white "shadow" figures), and the occasional feeling of someone tapping you on your arm or leg.
At one point last year I had gone to bed early while a few of my friends stayed up to chat with the husband. Just as I had laid down and was getting ready to fall asleep, I had the uncomfortable and unimaginable feeling of someone's weight laying right on top of me, pressing me into the bed. I couldn't move any of my limbs, couldn't breath, couldn't make a sound. I had never felt anything like that before, the weight of a body over you when you can see nothing. It was surreal. I focused on mentally telling whatever it was to go away, and after a few moments, it was gone.
Needless to say, I Saged my house right away. Nothing like that has happened since. We still get light activity, nothing scary or spooky like that though.
I've got more, but that may do for now :)
It can be very nerve-rattling to feel another person, but not see anyone there.
DeleteAnd yes- you need to save your other stories for the Thursdays to come! <3
That is awesome. If I were a ghost, instant coffee would make me do the same thing. I liked that story. Thanks for sharing it!!!! :)
ReplyDeleteI am chockful o' these stories, Courtney- this is one of the milder ones, I think XD.
DeleteAnd after that day, we never again experieced any issues with that coffee maker, lol.