I will never understand how anyone is able to deny the existence of “supernatural” events or entities. I may have my own set of beliefs rather than what you would expect from your average Southern girl who was raised in the Bible belt, but I take my beliefs very seriously. Regardless of the path I have chosen, I feel that if you can accept your beliefs on faith, why is it such a large step to believe that inexplicable things actually do happen?
I see it this way, until it can be proven to me without a doubt: Why shouldn’t I keep an open mind? On top of that there have been things in my own life that I could not explain, and I still cannot really give a truly rational explanation for them. Some of these things scared the bejeebers out of me, but I have always been more curious than sensible. Hence my sudden idea to start collecting ghost stories, etc. For many, it might be nice to have somebody who believes and will listen without sneakily looking up the phone number for the Wacky Shack.
Well, if I am going to ask people to share their experiences with what is most commonly known as the “supernatural,” I feel that I should share an experience of my own. I may be a grown woman, who was raised by good people of strong faith, and I may have three children of my own, but I do believe that there is far more in this world alone than we are able to comprehend. I am totally okay with it too. That being said, I have always loved tales of ghosts and all of those things that go bump in the night or even the day.
Now, back to the “sharing my own experience” thing, I will tell you about the first time I saw something that I could not explain:
When I was approximately six years old, give or take a year or two, I woke in the night in the bedroom that my older sister and I shared. I do not know what made me look at the doorway, but I saw a man. He was dressed in a suit and some kind of hat. Even being that little, I knew that man was not my father checking on us as he would do when he couldn’t sleep. This was something different.
I am rather proud to this day that I did not shriek, but I did hide my head under the covers for what was probably a few seconds, but of course, it seemed like hours. I peeked again, and he was still there. This proved beyond a doubt in my mind that it was not my dad. My daddy would have seen me hide under the covers and reassured me.
Again, I did not scream, but I did hide right back under the covers for a while, and when I looked again, he was gone. I did not know what to think, but neither did I want to go running through that doorway where he had just been for the comfort of my parents. I did not even want to go curl up with my big sister. Hugging my beloved teddy bear, who never failed to soothe me (which I still have), I was able to go back to sleep.
Honestly, it still surprises me that I did not call out, scream or do anything but peek and hide until it went away. Even at that young age, I seemed to understand that it meant no harm. It was just a shock. Plus, there was the very real possibility that I had been dreaming, as I have a lively, active and occasionally traitorous imagination.
I did not mention this to my family for quite some time. It was only years later that I discovered that my sister and father had seen him too. My parents moved into the house when I was an infant, and my older sister was a toddler. My sister remembers him dressed in the same clothing that I described, but according to my dad, she also had seen “a man in oberalls.” (Yes, the misspelling is deliberate). My sister agreed that there was nothing malevolent about him, so did daddy, who had seen the man too.
When my parents deemed us old enough to know, they told us about the man who lived in the house with his mother before they bought the house. I seem to remember my mama telling me that the gentleman had special needs, but he died in the house from a heart attack. As he caused no harm, nor did he attempt to frighten us, none of us had a problem sharing our home with him.
We lived in that home for 13 years before my parents had the opportunity to to buy a new home that perfectly suited our needs while being within their budget. I wonder, from time to time, if he still appears in the house now that we do not live there anymore. For my part, he seemed quite polite and we had no poltergeist action, so I sincerely hope he found peace.
I know that experience is not particularly scary (unless you are a small child), but it is the first of many experiences with the “unknown.” I’ve had other experiences, as well. I just wanted to keep this one light, since it is basically an ice breaker. I will insert my own experiences here and there, but I’m really more interested in the stories of others. I will take them if they are scary, weird or whatever.
**This is a true story. The events described above actually happened. For those who choose to share with me, and you do not want your name, I will credit you under the name that is chosen to represent you. Just to make it fun, you get to pick the name, and I will add a secondary disclaimer. ***
***Now, for another disclaimer: I will never publish anything if you request either in the release form that I will have available, on my recorder or in any form of writing (including email, Facebook posts, or any other media). I am willing to change the names, or I am more than willing to tell it in your voice, and in your own words with credit going to you, depending on your preference. I may even take what I get and turn it into a nice fictional story, subject to your permission. Also, I plan to start with a series of articles on the media in which I have already published, Yahoo Voices (formerly AssociatedContent.com).