I talked to my mom. I told her that for what ever reason that something was going on in my house.
I told her about everything that had been happening to this point. The brush down the length of the house, the light switch, the footsteps. Now my ponytail holders, barrettes and comb have disappeared from my bathroom. They were on the counter, where they always stay. I looked in my sons room because he is tall enough to reach there. So I thought that he might grab them. Couldn’t find them, so I asked him and he said no he didn’t get them.
I was reluctant to say anything to mom. Not that she would think I was silly or crazy but it really is one of those things that you aren’t even sure of yourself. Even though you know it is happening, you just don’t want to say it out loud.
When I was a baby, dad and mom were visiting his brother for the weekend, they lived beside/on a field where a man was killed. He had been found murdered sometime I believe in the 50’s. I remembered mom telling me that at night she could hear him walk from one end of the house and apparently fly back to the other end and walk again to the other side. This was off and on all night. My dad heard it too. I’m not sure about the rest of the family but I am pretty sure they all did. It seems like when you here of someone encountering a ghost that they could be “open” or “sensitive” to the sort of thing. So I thought it might be a good idea to talk to mom.
I had told my husband to ask the man the we got the little trailer from if there was anything about the home or if he had experienced anything odd. Mom was not really surprised by my news, she even found a bit of humor in it. I kinda didn’t. Her listening and understanding was the most important part of her advice. I was completely uneasy about the whole thing and she knew it, she simply said to go in and talk to it. Talk to it.
IT…………. IT…………. (deep breath) IT…………. I was feeling every adjective related to scared that there could be. I was 24, my husband and I have a 4 year old and a new baby, in a new home, with a new, old, dead, un-living thing in our home. Insecure was another word that was also invading my life, especially when my husband told me that the last owner of the home had NO problems or invaders living with him. So it was us or the land or i have no idea.
So after work one day I go in the house and I very nervously began speaking into the air in my small living room. Feeling almost silly, looking all around, not knowing at what or for what, just looking. I slowly begin saying “I know you are here, I don’t mind as long as you don’t hurt my kids or us. In fact, you might want to help me watch over my children and help me keep the house clean. Oh and please return my comb and barrettes. Thank you”.
After our chat, we would see something on occasion like a lamp shaking or a light come back on, not much else at all. It even returned my barrettes, ponytail holders and comb, the next day. The footsteps though were every night I believe, I could live with that though. It wasn’t so scary anymore. I would even say hello when I walked in the house. We were comfortable.
To be continued…