char *(null)="
family.stories
family.stories
From: cella@cats.ucsc.edu (Marcella Salisbury)
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: Ghost stories and goodbye
Date: 16 Dec 1994 20:48:58 GMT
None of you knew I was here in the first place, because this is the first time
I'm de-lurking, but I was, and I've really enjoyed reading the stories here.
So...before I graduate and say goodbye...here are my contributions.
When my mother was a little girl in Sweden, she and her family (parents and
brother) lived in a very old house on an island. The house was about 500 years
old and had once been a monastary. According to my mother, a monk had been
murdered there. Well, when she and my uncle were home alone, they used to hear
footsteps up in the big, cold attic; and they would meet eachother at the foot
of the stairs, each going up to catch the other, who, they thought, was trying
to scare them. To my knowledge this monk ghost never appeared visibly or did
anything; he just paced in the attic. They also used to hear carriage wheels
and horses coming up the long gravel drive; they would run to the window to
watch, and nothing would appear, but the noises would continue.
My brother has also heard a ghost. While touring France with my cousins--
daughters of the same uncle who used to hear the ghost with my mother--they
stayed in an old castle that had been converted into an inn. (I'm sorry I
don't have the name, for those of you who might be touring France soon. I
think it was near the border to Germany.) He slept in the same room with my
two cousins, an L-shaped room. One rainy night he woke up and heard slow,
creaking footsteps pacing round the room. Needless to say he was very freaked
out, and sat up and looked over at my cousins--they were asleep, and no one
else was in the room. He lay back down, completely terrified, listening to
the footsteps, which went on for a while, and then "faded into the sound of
the rain" (that's the only way he can describe it, he said).
I have two stories. One happened when I was very young, and I only know about
it because my parents have told me. I was barely a toddler, and we were living
in a small apartment in Sacramento. One day, according to my parents, I was
in the living room, listening to a record and dancing, when suddenly I stopped,
looked up at the blank wall just above the record player, and ran out o fthe
room. Thereafter I would not go into the room unless I was holding hands with
one of my parents. The living room was between the hallway and the kitchen,
and if my mother was in the kitchen, I would stand in the hallway and call her,
but refuse to go in. If I did enter the room with an adult, I would keep as
far away from the record player as possible, and watch it carefully. The
laundrey room was downstairs; my mother used to go down there to check the
laundrey, leaving me alone at times, she said, for about five minutes at at
time. Well, when this started to happen, they asked for spiritual guidance, if
they should leave me alone in the apartment with this thing that they could
not see, even for five minutes, and the answer was a definite No. After about
four days of this, they finally called a friend and the three of them together
performed a cleansing of the whole apartment. After that I was fine.
At that time I was too young to describe what I had seen; but about a year
later they asked me what it was. My reply, apparently, was somewhat garbled,
but I spoke of a big eye. I personally, as I said, have no memory of any of
this. Sometimes I think I would like to undergo hypnotism to find out what it
was; but I'm not sure I want to know!
My second story is more recent and less weird. There is probably a natural
explanation for what happened; but I wonder...
Recently (September) I went to New Hampshire to visit my boyfriend, who lives
out there. While I was there we took a walk along one of the numerous old
dirt roads up in the woods, to an old graveyard. NH, at least the Portsmouth
area, is covered with tiny plots, many of which date to colonial times--I love
visiting them. This one was running wild, and was surrounded by forest: a
beautiful area. We sat down there for a while in the sun; he napped, and I
read. After about twenty minutes, I heard a male voice speaking. It sounded
very close, but I could not make out the words. I thought it was coming from
the corner of the graveyard, but no one was around but us. There was no sound
of movement from the woods, no flash of color, etc., which might have indicated
that someone was there; but it sounded like it was closer anyway, like it
was coming from within the walls of the graveyard. Immediately I began to get
a prickly feeling which I know by now means I have to leave a place. I woke
my boyfriend and said, "We have to leave." We did; I kept looking back over
my shoulder, but I did not see anything, nor did I hear anything else. My
boyfriend, of course, hadn't heard a thing. It was very strange. Anyway, we
got out of there pretty quick.
So those are my stories. Not as spectacular as some, but I can vouch that they
are all completely true. And I wonder, also, if anyone knows of any haunted
sites in NH or MA to visit? I'm sure there are plenty. You can post here, and
I will check this newsgroup one last time tonight, or you can email me
personally.
This has been a very fun newsgroup to read--and scary too (I never read it
late at night!) Thanks to everyone who's contributed their stories.
Blessed Be
Marcella
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