I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do, I do I do….

OK, maybe I don’t really, but it is an intriguing subject. We’ve been getting into watching Paranormal State (A&E, 10pm Mondays). There are definitely more things under heaven and earth than I can explain.

So, who believes in things that go bump in the night? Anyone care to share?

A few weeks ago as we were watching a particularly disturbing Paranormal State, the lights inexplicably went out. Poof, just like that. The light was off at the switch. Of course I explained it away to the kids. The switch must not have been on all the way and it just popped off. However, in 20 years in this house, that has never before happened. Then, the next day a different light was on when I came home that I swore I hadn’t turned on….
dododododododododododododooooooooooo….

To add to the mix, I told my dad the story. He was intrigued and kept teasing my about my spooks. Until… a few days later. Now he’s telling me to take my spooks home with me. In the dead of night a banjo that had sat in the corner of his bedroom for over twenty years inexplicably crashed to the floor. His radio turns on for no reason and the microwave won’t shut off….
dododododododododododododooooooooooo….

So, that got me thinking of my ‘paranormal’ experiences. My grandmother died when I was ten. The night before, in a room full of laughing family, I suddenly knew she was going to die. Then a few days later I was alone in the house and I sensed her presence. I was certain if I stayed where I was, I would see her. Of course I did what any ten-year-old would do, I ran.

My other grandparent’s house was always an unsettling place. Resting between tree clad hills, daylight came late and sundown early. And, my grandparents didn’t believe in any extra lighting. It is an older house, the house of my grandmother’s parents, a bit worse for wear from the damp and coal dust. A place made spookier by grandma’s superstitions. She knew the charms and incantations for getting rid of sickness or warts. Probably passed down by some Scottish granny. But be it the physical properties or the unconventional doctoring, there was just something unsettling about that house. My father told me of how he’d be reading at night and the hairs on the back of his neck would rise, as if he was being watched. The blinds in the back bedroom would fly up for no apparent reason. That room always got to me. If I had to sleep in it alone, I left the light on. Even into my twenties. Later my cousin’s child woke crying, saying he’d seen a face. I certainly didn’t disparage their claim.

Then in my early twenties, my friend and I were housesitting for her sister. Her bedroom was at the top of the stairs, mine all the way down the hall. After we went to bed, I heard her come down the hall and stop in front of my door. I waited for her to knock or come in, but she didn’t. In the morning, she asked me what I wanted in the night. She had heard the same footsteps.

Later that summer a friend of ours left the bar drunk, went left of center and slammed into an oncoming semi. I might have been the last person to see him alive. The night of his funeral we were housesitting again. I sensed his presence so strongly at that house that I knew if I opened the patio curtains, he would be standing there, lost in the darkness, forever separated from humankind.

So, those are my stories. Halloween a little early. What are yours?