Category Archives: Paranormal

Disembodied Voices, Cold Spots & Channeled Spirits: Just Another Night in the Ghost Hunting Business

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The moment I walked through the door of the 108-year old house we investigated last night, I noticed a bed in the living room. My first thought was, is the owner too afraid to sleep upstairs? Which turned out to be exactly the case. As the investigative team of four – including yours truly – made ourselves comfortable in the sitting room, the homeowner and her adult son talked about the paranormal activity they’d been experiencing. It felt like a group of friends gathered together for a friendly little visit, complete with hot coffee and freshly-baked brownies. And then Steven leaned toward me ominously and asked, “Do you feel anything?”

That was when the evening began to get interesting.

The Spirits make their presence known. 

The ghost-hunting team – Steven, Rene, Melissa and myself – had met at Steven’s apartment before heading over to the client’s house. It was the first time I’d met Rene and Melissa, and they were both warm and friendly, putting me immediately at ease. Neither seemed to be the least concerned that it was my first time. I had vowed to act professionally during the investigation, though inside I was giddy with excitement. It isn’t every day that one goes on a real, live (dead? undead?) ghost hunt, after all!

The subject of our investigation.

The homeowner, whom I’ll call K, was an older woman probably in her early sixties. She was accompanied by her son (“Jack”), who was my age. Both were outgoing and eager to talk about their experiences. Jack told us he regularly communicates with the dead, and if he was expecting slack-jawed skepticism, he did not receive it from any of us. We are believers, and his stories were incredible. Jack is kind of like a real-life version of Bruce Willis’s character in The Sixth Sense. K talked openly of being harassed by often-violent spirits in the house for years, and claimed to have received scratch marks on her leg one evening. Activity had picked up recently, especially since they’d contacted Steven for assistance. I experienced a brief, fleeting moment where I thought, Angry, violent spirits?! Hope I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew here! Fortunately, it passed quickly, replaced by my natural curiosity and excitement.

Steven asked me if I felt anything, because he was suddenly cold. I should note that the house was stifling – it was a warm day, there was no A/C, and we had them turn off their fans to eliminate any background noises. He told me to move my hand near him. I did, and guess what? The air was ice cold.

It was Game On.

I thought this stuff only happened on TV!

Rene began taking photos, capturing a pink orb hovering around Steven’s chair. Most orbs caught on camera are nothing more than dust particles, but this one was emitting its own light. At this point, the batteries in that camera and in another inexplicably drained completely. Back at Steven’s apartment, we had meticulously checked each battery, and inserted new ones in all our devices. Luckily, we’d brought spares. We decided to check out the rest of the house, so K took us upstairs. When we stepped into bedroom # 1, it was cold, which made no sense because heat rises, and the rest of the house was hot. This was the room with the most activity, K explained, and she refused to open the closet doors because doing so seemed to lead to increased activity. They were, in fact, taped shut with masking tape. Bedroom # 2 was nice and toasty. We were drawn to a closet where it was obvious there had once been a lock on the outside of the door – up at the top of the door jamb, as if something (or somebody) were kept inside against their will. Rene was drawn to the closet. Turns out she is very much in tune with her spiritual side, and a natural empath, like Steven. I learned to rely on her uncanny psychic senses quite a bit as the evening progressed.

Living room/stairway in the house we investigated.

We all had digital audio recorders running for the duration of the investigation, and I left mine in the upstairs bedroom while we all returned downstairs. Steven then began monitoring the first hour’s worth of recordings, and discovered what he calls a Class A EVP: a clear, distinctive female voice saying, “Where was I going?” We quickly eliminated any of the three women in the house as being the source of the voice. It came in at a much higher frequency and was talking over somebody else for a second.

Rene and I returned to bedroom # 1 after an hour to check things out, and that’s when I had my first personal experience. I stepped into the room, and felt ice cold. The skin all over my arms and legs erupted in goosebumps, and my hairs were standing on end. Rene very soothingly took my arm, explained that I was feeling the energy of a presence in the room, and had me take a deep breath while the energy dissipated. After a few seconds I felt normal again. I can’t explain the sensation – it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I wasn’t the least bit nervous; instead, I was really wired now! We opened the closet door, sat down, and conducted a fifteen-minute EVP session, taking turns asking the spirit questions. I listened later to see if we had captured anything, but came up empty. However, about half an hour before we entered the room, there is the sound of what appears to be a child screaming briefly. At the time I attributed this to kids playing outside. Near the end of the investigation, I asked K and Jack if there were children in the neighborhood, and they said no. Their house is on the west end of town, near an industrial area. Definitely not a family-friendly neighborhood. I can’t say this was definitive evidence of a spirit – it could have been somebody passing by outside, after all – but based on what we learned next, it’s interesting.

Things get really weird.

Back downstairs, Jack went into a trance. I am not kidding: one moment everything was normal, the next he had tears in his eyes and was channeling the spirit of a little girl. (Despite anybody’s beliefs, I am writing this narrative as fact. The whole night tipped the Strange Scale past Level 10. You had to be there to see it). Thanks to a session with Rene, we learned that there was a 12-year old girl named Melissa who had been raped by an uncle when she lived in the house decades ago, and had been imprisoned in the closet. She was still afraid of the uncle’s spirit, who in turn did not want to “pass on” due to a fear of judgment. During another trance session upstairs (which I regrettably missed, as I was busy monitoring our laptop for EVPs), the angry male spirit mocked Steven’s attempts to get him to leave the house, at one point laughing in his face and saying, “You have no power over me.” Working with the homeowner, they told him he had no right to be there and demanded he leave – and suddenly, the presence was gone.

Steven monitoring for EVPs while investigator Melissa chats with the clients.

Straight out of Hollywood, boys and girls. Only minus the special effects. We’ve got it all on digital audio and camera. This is unbelievable stuff.

Afterwards, the house felt peaceful. It had seemed heavy and oppressive before, something I hadn’t really paid too much attention to until the atmosphere was suddenly changed and noticeably different. We sat around for another hour and a half while K and Jack regaled us with many stories. In the end, they thanked us for our help. Jack feels that the evil entity is gone, and said the little girl feels safe for the first time. Everybody was pretty emotional; no matter where the truth may lie, in the end these people feel that we helped them reclaim their house and, in the process, their lives. That alone is an amazing feeling.

We have a lot more audio to listen to in the coming days. It’ll be interesting to see if we caught any other EVPs.

Bidding our clients farewell shortly after 1 AM, we walked outside to our cars. The night was dark and still, a crescent moon hanging suspended from the black heavens. Steven and Rene were in awe, assuring me that this was not a typical case at all. Never before had they experienced such an intense level of interaction. It was quickly deemed one of the best cases ever. I guess I got pretty lucky! They both said they were impressed with me, and Steven asked if I’d be interested in accompanying them on future investigations. My reply?

“Oh, hell yeah!”

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A Merit Badge in Ghost Hunting

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Like A Vampire

Yesterday evening, I came up with the bizarre idea that it would be fun to move the furniture around in my bedroom. I’ve lived in my townhouse nearly five years now, and my bed has always been in the same spot: with the headboard right in front of the window. Truth is, though the master bedroom is roomy, it’s got weird angles and short walls that pretty much limit your options for placing a bed. Still, I’m a guy who likes to change things up every once in awhile, so I decided to get creative and flip the bed around, placing it at a 90-degree angle to where it was previously, which necessitated moving the nightstand, lamp, clock, etc. It looked okay where it was, though it made the room look slightly smaller. I was excited about the change, and when it was time for bed, eagerly dove beneath the covers to enjoy my first night’s sleep in the new layout.

Only, right away, the arrangement bugged me. Where before I slept facing a wall, now there was the window, and a tiny frame of light outlining the curtains. I’m a guy who likes to sleep in the dark; the smallest amount of light can drive me crazy. So I turned onto my left side instead, facing into the room. The big, empty room, without a wall there like I was used to. Worse, my smoke detector’s little green light blinks constantly, despite the addition of fresh batteries. You can’t even tell during the day, but at night, it seemed bright as a lighthouse warning ships to steer clear. I couldn’t believe that such subtle little differences would bother me so much, so I willed myself to ignore them, but the hours passed by, sleep as elusive as ever. Finally, at 4 AM, I did what any sane person would do under the circumstances: turned the light on and rearranged my bed and nightstand to where they had been originally. Yeah, I know. Anal much? During my road trip, I spent thirteen nights in strange hotel rooms, and never had trouble falling asleep. You’d think that because this was my bedroom, I’d be fine, never mind where the bed was.

You’d be wrong, though.

It wasn’t until 5:30 – with morning light already streaming in – that I finally fell asleep. Made me feel like a vampire. I was up three hours later. Would have loved to have slept in longer, but I have the kids this week, and I had an exciting day ahead, anyway.

Today, I earned my ghost-hunting merit badge.

I Want To Be The Next Jason. Or Grant. I’d Even Settle for Dave Tango.

A while back, I mentioned my ghost-hunting friend, Steven. He is a professional investigator, the president of GERCSA (the Ghost Education and Research Center; he dropped the San Antonio part when he relocated to the Pacific Northwest) and has been involved in many cases – both here and in Texas, where he’s from originally. He was even approached by the executive producer of Paranormal State to make an appearance on that show, though it didn’t happen due to scheduling conflicts. Well, I have a huge interest in the paranormal, having been weaned on a steady diet of Ghost Hunters episodes for years. This is something Steven and I bonded over. I basically begged him to let me tag along on an investigation sometime…and he actually listened!

I earned my merit badge in ghost hunting. Bring it on, boys and ghouls! (Courtesy of seo.com).

He was contacted a while back by a homeowner in Vancouver, Washington whose mother’s house has been experiencing a lot of paranormal activity. It’s a 100-year old Victorian downtown, and she is hearing noises at night, seeing things moving, etc. Her adult son is scared for her, and looking for somebody to come in and help. Steven asked me a few weeks ago if I’d be interested in joining his team for an official investigation, and I said yesyesyesyesyesOHMYGODYESPLEASE!!! sure, I suppose I could tag along if my schedule is clear. OK, so I jumped at the chance! It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. I won’t just be hanging out with them, I’ll be participating fully. They’ve got EMF meters, digital voice recorders, HD cameras, and a laptop where we’ll be doing real-time monitoring for EVPs. Before I could be cleared, though, Steven insisted I attend a mandatory ghost hunting training class at his apartment, and today was the day.

I arrived about 12:45. We drove into Portland first, where I treated him to lunch at Bunk Sandwiches. As much as I love their pork belly Cubano, I wanted to try something new, and ordered the pulled pork with apple slaw. Steven got the same thing, and we both loved it. Afterwards, we returned to his place, where he spent the next few hours schooling me on the tricks of the trade. I learned how to properly use an EMF meter, what to look for when listening to EVPs, and how to conduct myself, both professionally (in front of the clients) and in the presence of any spirits (i.e. do not provoke; treat them with respect, instead). He played me a bunch of EVPs he has collected over the years, and some were quite clear and convincing. I was impressed. He quizzed me throughout the training session, and I passed with flying colors. I like Steven and his group because they exude integrity. They are not out to do this to get rich or famous, but rather, to help people while satisfying their own natural curiosity.

Saturday night, we’re meeting the clients at their house at 6 PM. We will then conduct an investigation until 2 AM. Steven warned me that it’s possible that we’ll end up with eight hours of nothing, but did say this case sounds very promising, and they usually have something interesting happen. I am super excited! Just to be involved in the process will be loads of fun.

I hope it’s a boo-tiful night!

Happy Boo-day To You

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I’ve noticed recently that time has stopped mattering so much to me.

I came to this conclusion when slipping into a comfy pair of pajama pants at 4:30 PM, when I’d just gotten home from picking the kids up from school. The sun was shining brightly through a scattering of clouds, giving me pause for a few seconds. It’s not like it’s the middle of December and the sun has already set; we’ve got a good 90 minutes before it sinks below the horizon this time of year. In the end, I just shrugged my shoulders and put ‘em on, which is kinda pathetic in the sense that it means I’ve got no life – obviously I was neither expecting company nor planning on going out, settling in for the evening when it was still technically late afternoon. At the same time, it made me feel a bit rebellious. Sorta like James Dean. The only things missing were the motorcycle and the cigarette dangling from my lips. And the jeans, I suppose, because I doubt very much ol’ JD ever rode while wearing pajama pants. It was more like I was channeling the essence of rebellion.

It’s liberating not being a slave to the clock. I used to wait until 5:00 to pour myself a drink. Now, if 4 PM rolls around – or, I daresay, 3:45 – and I want a gin and tonic, then I’m heading straight for the liquor cabinet. And I’m probably wearing pajama pants, too.

Screw convention.

The same applies to showering, shaving, going to bed, waking up. Granted, on the weeks when Rusty and Audrey are with me, there is by necessity some semblance of a routine. I can’t be quite the free spirit I am on the kid-free weeks. But there is a lot of room for flexibility, even then. This laissez-faire lifestyle suits me. All my life, I’ve been the most organized and scheduled person in the world. It feels good to let loose and ignore the clock. Being divorced and unemployed gives me a ton of freedom, and I’m happily gobbling it up.  I guess that’s why freelancing appeals to me so much. I work when I want to work, instead of being boxed into some 8-to-5 corporately defined window of productivity. Man, if I ever do end up in a “real” job again, it’s going to be quite an adjustment.

Speaking of, I finally heard back from Matt, the Groupon recruiter I’d been working with, on Wednesday morning. The news was not good. Though he called me “a very talented writer,” he said the writing committee “went in a different direction” and “chose another candidate.” I was pretty surprised – not because I think I’m the bee’s knees or anything (what the hell does that even mean? Last I checked, bees don’t have knees, and if they did, they’d be small and inconsequential, anyway – hardly worth the buzz), but his feedback had been very positive throughout the process and he loved several of the jokes I’d used in my sample write-ups. It was a real disappointment, not because I am in love with Groupon (although, as fate would have it, I purchased a Groupon that very morning – $12 for $25 worth of vinyl at a record shop in Portland) or took it as a personal rejection. It’s just that, I had been *this* close to having a bit of financial security, with a steady gig that would have guaranteed me a salary close to what I was earning before. I’d have been able to breathe more comfortably, but now I suddenly find myself back at square one, relying on unemployment checks that barely cover the basics, and watching my cash on hand dwindle away to nothing. I experienced a crisis of faith that day, and wondered for awhile, “what am I going to do now?” I was in a pitiful mood, feeling sorry for myself. Not a pretty picture at all. Luckily, I have a supportive group of friends who reminded me that this was just a minor setback and it doesn’t mean I have to give up on my dream. So, of course, I won’t. I’ll just redouble my efforts and try that much harder. I’ve always been good at bouncing back from rejection – sometimes it just takes me a day or so to find my groove again. There are other Groupons out there – I just need to find them. Or a “real” job as a writer. One way or another, it’ll happen. Mark my words.

But onto funner topics. Yes, I realize “funner” ain’t a word. Ain’t ain’t, either. But they both should be.

The other day I wrote about my ghost-hunting friend, Steven. And this picture that he showed me. I won’t go into the whole story again, but basically he was given a photograph that purports to show the spirits of a baby’s grandparents who were hovering, transparent, in the background during the child’s first birthday. The grandfather had died not long before, and promised that he wouldn’t miss his grandchild’s first birthday. Steven sent me a copy of the picture, and here it is.

Check out the transparent figures to the baby's right.

As I stated in my last post, I am not saying this photograph is real. Steven is the first to admit that you can never fully trust a picture that was handed to you by another person. As much as I’d like to believe, this one seems too good to be true. But who knows? I refuse to declare it an outright fake. I have seen, with my own eyes, things that could not be explained, as anybody who read about my ghostly encounter can attest. Here are the facts that were presented about this photo: it was taken on a disposable camera that had never been used before, which means the image can’t simply be attributed to a double exposure. Furthermore, the camera was purchased after the grandfather passed away. Family members insist the man in the photo, clearly wearing glasses, is the grandfather. The other figure is harder to make out (because a friggin’ chair is hiding her face), but they’re assuming it was the grandmother. Either that, or gramps is tapping some heavenly bodies in the afterlife.

I leave you with that. I won’t say any more about the photo – you can make up your own mind about its authenticity. If nothing else, it’s intriguing to look at. And now, just for fun, let’s get interactive! I’m curious about whether or not you believe in ghosts, and have set up a fun little poll. Feel free to click away, and please let me know what you think about the picture.

Show Me The Ghosts

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Yesterday, I received my first “cease and desist” order. I feel like such a grownup now.

It came in the form of an e-mail from a former co-worker. A few months ago, when I set up my personal website/online portfolio, I uploaded copies of several newsletters I had worked on while employed. I wanted examples of my work to show prospective clients, and figured a few newsletters would give an idea of what I am capable of doing for any organization interested in the same. I certainly didn’t mean any harm in posting these, and the truth is, very few people even know the website exists. It has been a valuable marketing tool and has helped me to secure freelancing gigs, but it’s not like anybody seeks it out and reads it. The e-mail stated, in part,

I was looking online for something just now and came across the entire {newsletter} that was posted by you (see attached). I need you to remove it as soon as possible. This is a confidential document that is shared only with {XYZ Corp.} since it contains confidential sales data. When you asked for copies, I thought you would only use the excerts you wrote, which is fine to reproduce, but the entire document is not for public view. How quickly can you remove it?

I need you to contact Google and ask them to remove it from their cache as well. Let me know that you are on it, thanks.

Now, I’ll admit, my first reaction was, “What nerve!” followed by “How dare they!” and leading quickly to “The hell I will!” But after a few minutes, a cooler head prevailed. Or maybe it was the fear of a lawsuit? I mean, I’d have to have money before anybody was able to actually collect money, but still. It would be a real hassle. Plus, if I’m being honest, having those newsletters on my site was doing nothing to further my career. My uncle, a fellow writer with loads of freelancing experience, took a look at my site in December and suggested I remove them. His exact words? It doesn’t take any special writing talent to do pieces like those. I wouldn’t show those newsletters unless you’re actively seeking entry-level work. As direct as he can be, I respect him, and had planned on taking them down, anyway. So within fifteen minutes they were gone. The real pain in the ass was figuring out how to un-cache them from Google, a complicated process involving webmaster tools and requiring a skill level that, quite frankly, I don’t possess. I’m no programmer, I’m just a writer, dammit. Let me write. Anyway, I figured it out and submitted a request, but it’ll probably take a little while before that information drops off their search engine. It’s still there today, even though the files are gone. Hey, whatever – I did my part. And the truth is, what irritated me most was the tone of the e-mail. I no longer work for this person! I didn’t appreciate how demanding it came across. Plus, there isn’t any actual sales data in the newsletter – I double-checked the whole thing. I think that was just paranoia talking.

After dealing with that hassle, I headed for a local coffee shop, where I was meeting up with a friend named Steven. We’d been conversing through e-mail and Facebook since last September, but hadn’t yet met in person. Steven is a bona fide ghost hunter, and I have a huge interest in all things paranormal, so it was little wonder we’d get along. In fact, before I took this blog very seriously, I wrote a post about my ghost experience, which happened a little over a year ago. I took down several posts because I was dating somebody at the time and our relationship went south, but I could never bring myself to delete this one, so I just hid it. But it’s public again after a few minor edits, so if you want to read about my real-life paranormal encounter, you can find it here.

Anyway. Steven walked in, and damn if he doesn’t look, appropriately enough, a little bit like Jason Hawes with TAPS. Once coffee was ordered, he opened a manila folder he’d brought with him and slid a photograph across the table. It was a picture of a baby sitting in a high chair, face smeared with cake, enjoying her first birthday. And in the background, transparent images of an old man and old woman. Steven explained that it was a photo from the 1980s he’d received from a client, taken before digital cameras existed, and was allegedly the spirits of the baby’s grandparents, who had passed away but had always promised to be around for their grandchild’s birthdays. The woman who took the picture did not see anybody in the background until after it was developed. Now, I have no idea if this photo was bogus or not. It strains credibility to imagine that such a perfect image exists…and yet, who’s to say it isn’t real? I have always believed in ghosts. They may be sneaky little camera-shy buggers, but once in a great while it seems likely that they’d let their ectoplasmic guard down and end up caught on film. I stared at it for a good five minutes, positively intrigued.

One argument in favor of ghosts. (Courtesy of missmanganssciencesite.pbworks.com)

More photos followed, mostly of various orbs, and Steven regaled me with stories of his investigations. He showed me e-mails from people who had written to him seeking help. I asked a lot of questions, like how can an invisible apparition make footsteps (the answer is E = mc2; Einstein’s theory explains that energy always exhibits mass, in whatever form the energy takes – sufficient enough explanation for me). I tried to play the role of skeptic even though I believe in this stuff 100%, because it’s important to take a scientific approach when dealing with a subject that can trigger strong emotional reactions in people, positive and negative. It is clear that Steven has vast reservoirs of knowledge and experience and has carefully considered all angles. He backs up his theories with science, and is very much a trustworthy, sincere and intelligent person. Naturally, I begged him to let me tag along on his next ghost hunt, salivating not only over the idea of experiencing the paranormal firsthand, but of the awesome blog entry that would certainly follow.

Which begs the question: do I write to live, or live to write?

Whatever. Show me the ghosts!

Who Ya Gonna Call?

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I have had a fascination with ghosts for as long as I can remember.  My bookshelf contains more than a few volumes on ghosts and the paranormal.  I have never missed an episode of Ghost Hunters or its offshoot, Ghost Hunters International (or even Paranormal State though that one stretches credibility a little more).  While I have always been a believer, and have had a few unusual experiences over the years, I had never actually seen a ghost with my own eyes.

Until last night, that is.

{Anonymous ex-girlfriend} and I were watching American Idol in the living room.  We were sitting on her couch.  Suddenly, a mysterious ball of white light appeared in her bedroom, moved through the doorway, and passed by the bathroom, where it abruptly dissipated before my eyes.  I sat there, staring into space, completely in awe of what I had just seen.  Truth is, I thought to myself, Mark, you have finally lost your mind. I figured I had been hallucinating or something.  Maybe a brain tumor was wreaking havoc with my senses.  And then, {Anonymous ex-girlfriend} said, “What was that?!”

“You saw it, too?” I asked, turning to her excitedly.  Relieved that I hadn’t lost my marbles, after all.

“You mean that big, white orb of light?” she replied.

“Yeah.  That.”

“I sure did.”

Turns out, she saw it in her bedroom, but I was blocking her line of sight when it actually…umm…”shattered” into nothingness in front of the bathroom.  I don’t know how else to describe what it did at that point.  She missed the grand finale, if you will.

Now, I may believe in the paranormal, but I also take the TAPS approach, and try to look for alternate explanations before declaring something otherworldly.  So I suggested we had seen the headlights from a passing car.  Only that theory didn’t stand up, for three simple reasons.

1.  She has room-darkening shades that were cinched tightly shut.
2.  Her bedroom doesn’t face the street, anyway.
3.  This ball of light was low to the ground; any passing reflection would have been much higher up.

Try as we might, we couldn’t come up with a single logical explanation for what we had just seen.  It wasn’t a ghost in the sense that it resembled a human figure, but…what the hell was it??  Some sort of spectral entity?  Ball lightning?  (Indoors, and from a clear sky, though?)  (And no, we hadn’t been drinking – not a single drop of alcohol for either of us).  And there are a couple of interesting events to consider that have taken place recently that – while not proving the existence of something supernatural – at least give me pause.

A few nights ago, we were also watching TV in the living room, when I felt a cold spot around my legs.  I am one of those people who is always warm, no matter the season or the temperature.  This cold sensation lasted a few seconds, and was so noticeable I mentioned it to {Anonymous ex-girlfriend} the next day.

And, best of all (though probably not in her opinion), one night last week she awoke in the middle of the night and freaked out, because – as she related to me the next morning – she felt like somebody was standing over her bed, watching her.  She turned on the light and, of course, nobody was there.  But it took her awhile to fall back asleep after that.

All of this reminded me of the dream I had that first night I slept over her place.  One so vivid and intense, I actually wrote it down, which in and of itself is strange because I rarely talk about dreams with anybody else (and, in fact, never mentioned it to {Anonymous ex-girlfriend} until today).  In my dream, I awoke in an old stone building with half-oval windows.  It was springtime; I could feel a gentle breeze ruffling my hair, and could smell jasmine on the wind.  I got up and looked out the window.  Across the way was a church, and beside it, a cemetery on a hill.  My attention was focused on two particularly ornate (and obviously old) headstones, one of them a giant, moss-covered cross.  Nothing else happened, and it wasn’t scary, but the detail in that dream was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.  The colors were dazzlingly bright, and all my senses were alive.  At the time, it was nothing more than an interesting dream.  After last night, it takes on a new context – definitely seems a lot more symbolic in nature.

I don’t know what to make of this stuff.  {Anonymous ex-girlfriend} has lived there since June, and it is only recently – err, actually, right around the time I entered her life – that these things have started happening.  Particularly in the past week and a half.

One more thing: she’s got this old, metal nightstand beside her bed.  Even though this sounds straight out of a movie, it came from an old mental institution that – rumor has it – was supposedly haunted.  We have joked that a ghost might have formed an attachment with the nightstand and decided to follow along.  Hmm.

It occurs to me that I’ve got the perfect plot for my next novel unfolding all around me…