Tag Archive for: ghosts

A Ghostly Encounter

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I am a certified city of Charleston tour guide. Sometimes I give ghost tours. Once one of the tourists told me that what was scary about my ghost stories was that I told them as a matter of fact, not fantasy.

 

Well, it’s because I’ve had a few ghostly encounters. I thought you might like to read about one of them.

 

My best friend and I babysat at a house in Pinopolis, SC, where we lived. (Side note: it was a fantastic place to grow up!) We had never been told specifics about the ghost in the house, but I had lived at the house next door for a few years and had heard there was a ghost at this house, as there was one in the house I lived in as well, but that’s another story.


Pinopolis is a peninsula on Lake Moultrie outside of Moncks Corner, SC.

 

We put the children to bed. We locked the front door with the skeleton key and placed the key on the credenza all the way across from the front door. We checked the side door (near the dining room) and the back door in the kitchen. 


Once we put the children to bed, we did not check on them again as the room on the right at the top of the stairs gave off weird vibes. When I had to walk past it, and you didn’t have a choice as it was on the way to the rest of the upstairs, I would close my eyes and dash across the doorway, whether the door was open or closed, it did not matter.

 

In the past I had heard someone going up and down the stairs while I bathed the children in the tub between the den and the study. I never saw anyone, even though I would take the kids out of the tub and go investigate. 


A view of Lake Moultrie from a home in Pinopolis.

 

Anyway, back to that night … We had popcorn and a soft drink, probably Mountain Dew as we were big fans of Mountain Dew. We had just finished watching the Love Boat and Fantasy Island’s starting credits had begun. I was on the couch that was parallel to the wall at the bathroom. My friend was sitting in the lounge chair that was to my left and at an angle facing the television. We were both facing the opening to the hall and the television.

 

I got that eerie feeling that someone watched me. I glanced up at the door between the hall and the den. A little old lady peered at me around the door frame. Her hair was in a bun. She was short. She had on a dress. Her gnarled, arthritic-looking, fingers were gently placed on the door frame. She stared at me until I broke contact to look at my friend. She was staring at the same spot in the doorway. She practically levitated to the spot next to me on the couch after she said, “did you see that little old lady looking at you?”

 

We sat with our hands entwined until the parents arrived. They said the front door was wide open and they fussed at us. We asked them if there was a ghost in the house and gave the description. They were in disbelief, not because they didn’t believe us but because they said she never showed herself to anyone but family. (My friend is related to them, but she was staring at me, maybe trying to figure out who I was and why I was there so much?) The parents said it was the man’s relative who had been bedridden in later life and the room at the top of the stairs had been her room.

 

After that, whenever I babysat for the children I’d talk to the ghost and tell her what I was doing so she’d be aware, and maybe, hopefully, not appear to me again!


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Robin Hillyer-Miles lives happily in the Lowcountry of South Carolina with her husband, teenaged son, and three dogs. She’s supposed to be editing her latest novel to be self-published but she has been lazy. This new novel is based in a fictional town called Marion’s Corner, also located in the Lowcountry. It has a witch, many ghosts, and quite a few people of all ages looking for love. She’s published in short-story format and is the president of the Lowcountry Romance Writers of America.


follow her on FB: 

https://www.facebook.com/RobinHillyerMilesAuthorTourGuideYoga

 

Showing Off My Cover for Spirit Shapes

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Don’t you love it? The artist, Ana Winson, always seems to design the perfect cover for the book.

She explained that the light wolf stands for good and the dark wolf for evil. The spirit shape in the middle is key to the story, but you’ll have to read it to find out why.

Here’s the blurb:

Ghost hunters stumble upon a murdered teen in a
haunted house. Deputy Tempe Crabtree’s investigation pulls her into a whirlwind
of restless spirits, good and evil, intertwined with the past and the present, and
demons and angels at war.

I had a great time writing this book and now I’m busy planning the promotion.
I’ve been working on a blog tour, more later, and I’ve set up some in-person events.
The book isn’t available yet, but will be soon.
Marilyn

The Good and the Bad About Living in A Big Old House

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We’ve lived in our home here in the foothills for 29 years. The house was old when we moved in. It was in the days before disclosure and there were many things wrong that we found out after the papers were all signed and we were settled in.

Along with the house we took over a residential care business which meant we lived in and cared for six women with developmental disabilities. This was a job my husband and I loved and we did it for 23 years–until we felt we were too old to do the job the way it needed to be done and life became complicated. Hubby and a son got sick at the same time and our focus needed to change.

A few feet away from the main house is a guest house which has been home to many over the years. First to live there were my mom and dad. My dad passed away and my mom decided to move with my sister to Las Vegas.

For a short while, my middle daughter and her husband lived there.

Next to move in that house were my granddaughter, husband, and three kids.

Now the little house is occupied by my son, his wife, and another granddaughter.

Before they lived there, when that granddaughter was in grammar school she lived in the big house with us during the week so she could go to our little neighborhood school.

We had two grandsons living with us during the time we had our care home. One went back to be with his mom, the other we had from the time he was 11 until he was 20 and went off on his own.

And, guess what, we have another adult grandson–different family–living with us again.

Most of the time everyone eats with us, probably a good thing because I have no idea how to cook for 2 since I’ve cooked for eight or more for years. Daughter-in-law helps and she always cleans up after dinner. Because the dining area is big and we have a round table that seats 12, we host most of the holiday dinners too.

Whether having all these family members under our roof is a plus or a minus depends upon the day. (I’m kidding.) Actually, now that hubby and I are getting older it’s kind of nice to have younger, stronger folks around to help out.

Over the years we’ve done a lot of remodeling: added car ports, extended the living room and built a bedroom and bath upstairs, did over the kitchen, and once our ladies had moved on to other homes, we changed a little sitting room into my office and did over two of the bedrooms the women used into one bedroom for us and modernized the bathroom. And of course we’ve had to fix all sorts of things from the water well to bringing in natural gas instead of using a wood stove to heat the house. (Yes, we did and what a chore that was.) We also have solar to cut down on the electric bill which has always been huge with so many people living here.

Besides the relatives who’ve resided with us over the years, we also have a resident ghost. Everyone who has shared our house has said so, some little ones insisted on sleeping with us rather than one of the many empty bedrooms we’ve had from time to time.

Doors open and close on their own, cupboard doors pop open, I hear someone come into the house and call out, but no one is there. Does this scare me? No. I don’t think ghosts can hurt–only frighten if you’re so inclined.

This has been a great house to write in. When we took care of the women, I had a small office in what used to be a sun porch. When the gals went off to their day program I wrote all morning while doing the laundry–something that had to be done every day. Now I have a larger office with lots of storage.

The first year we lived here, I received my first acceptance letter. I’ve belonged to the same critique group since my first year here. I’m known as Springville’s author–a plus of being in a small town.

I love the area where we live–we’re surrounded by hills and can see huge mountains which are still snow covered and will be for awhile. The Tule River flows right by us and we have a great swimming hole which all the family uses in the summer time.

My Deputy Tempe Crabtree mysteries are set in a place like Springville though I’ve renamed it Bear Creek and moved it up in the mountains another 1000 feet. People who live here recognize places I write about and love it. We’re near an Indian reservation and I include it in the books too–though again changed the name to the Bear Creek Indian Reservation. Ever so often a Native American will come up to me when I’m at craft festival and say, “You’re the lady who writes about us.”

Yes, I love where I live–the house and the area–both have been an inspiration for many of my books.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/

Ghosts and Angels

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Anyone who has known me for anytime at all has heard about all the haunted places hubby and I have stayed or visited: The Queen Mary, Room 17 in the Bella Maggoire Bed and Breakfast, the hotel across the street from the Alamo. Just this weekend we went on a ghost tour and visited the haunted Ventura Courthouse (while wandering around in the dark halls of the jail I’m positive I glimpsed a wraith) as well as other old hotels in the area.

My grandkids sincerely believe our house is haunted–and it may be, we have doors that open and close on their own. I have my own theory about ghosts, I think they maybe no more than echoes from the past. If you think about the fact that their might be another dimension, what went on before could very well still be hanging around.

Angels are a whole other story. Because I am a Bible student, I firmly believe that angels are surrounding us all the time, many examples are in the Bible, Old and New Testament. Good ones, those who look out for us, and the fallen angels (demons) whose agenda is totally different.

I’ve heard far too many miracles where angels intervened. According to the Bible, angels sometimes take on human appearance–hence the stranger who helped out at an accident and saved someone’s life and then disappeared before anyone could find out who he was. (And yes, I do know some personal stories where this has happened, but it would take far too long to recount them.)

Anyone who believes in ghosts ought to believe in angels too. Ghosts are fun to think and talk about, but the angels are the ones who actually intervene on our behalf.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

The Ghost of Elizabeth I

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D.S. Dollman has had a life-long fascination with ghosts, poltergeists, shadow people, and other mysterious beings. She blames her obsessions on the cheap burritos she ate as a kid while watching vampire movies in the dark. Dollman received her BA and MFA degrees in creative writing from Colorado State University. She was a member of the English Department faculty at Colorado State University teaching classes in creative writing, composition and literature, and instructor of a variety of writing classes at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley and Front Range Community College in Fort Collins, Colorado. D.S. Dollman lives in Texas, home of the real headless horseman, where the bugs are the size of small children and the natives say, “Hey, if you don’t like the weather here, wait a minute. It will change!”

This is such an honor for me, a ghost story writer, to guest blog at the Stiletto Gang on Halloween, the 3000 year old Celtic celebration honoring the end of harvest and the first days of winter. Later this evening, as the skies grow dark and cold, and the veil that separates the living from the dead grows thin, the spirits of the dead will once again walk among us. There was a day when the thought of ghosts made me nervous. There are some characters in history that should not be allowed to walk this earth again. The ghost of Jack the Ripper creeping through the shadows of my kitchen doesn’t appeal to me, but I guess you can’t choose your ghosts any more than you can choose your family.

If I could choose a ghost to haunt my haunts, I would choose the ghost of Elizabeth I of England. I first read a biography of Elizabeth I when I was ten years old, and I was mesmerized. The thought of a woman prospering, excelling, and conquering a man’s world appealed to me, an abused child, in ways that I could never put into words. “I will never be, by violence, constrained to do anything,” Elizabeth once said. It wasn’t her successful reign as Queen of England as much as her stubborn resistance to gender-based oppression that attracted me, even as a child.

Elizabeth I was born in 1533, the second daughter of the infamous King Henry VIII. Her mother, Anne Boleyn, was beheaded three years later. Anne was Henry’s second wife, and when she failed to provide him with a male heir, he reacted in a manner that was to become his trademark response, exposing Elizabeth at a very young age to the undeniable truth of her times—it was, indeed, a man’s world.

Elizabeth was crowned Queen of England in 1558 when she was twenty-five years old. It was a time of great mystery and intrigue when enemies were poisoned and queens lost their heads. Elizabeth’s remarkable life was fraught with moments of intense fear that she could not outwardly show as it would have weakened her image and placed her in danger. I sometimes wonder if it saddened her to know she could never have a “normal” love relationship with a man. I wonder if it was, as some have speculated, a fear of a power struggle that kept her from making a marital commitment. “I may not be a lion, but I am a lion’s cub and I have a lion’s heart,” Elizabeth once said. She certainly was capable of feeling love, but perhaps she reserved her love for her people and never really longed for marriage as much as one might think.

Elizabeth I ruled over England for forty-four years, a surprisingly long reign. And it seems as if her familiarity with the daily routine of a ruler has kept her bound to Windsor Castle, the official home of British royalty. According to witnesses, Elizabeth’s spirit, dressed in black, still walks the halls, and occasionally the walls, of the castle. Elizabeth’s ghost has also been spotted at the Tower of London where she was imprisoned by her older, half-sister, Mary. Elizabeth spent many long, painful days in the tower staring out the windows, waiting for the soldiers to lead her to her death.

If I could speak with the ghost of Elizabeth, I would ask her where she found her strength. What was its source–ambition, fear, a love of power, or something deeper, spiritual, and personal? Perhaps it was faith in her self, in her belief that she was destined for something better. In this day and age when we rely on drugs, alcohol and doctors to give us strength and make our world seem brighter, I think we all could use a little faith like Queen Elizabeth’s.

D.S. Dollman
http://www.dsdollman.com/

Nancy Drew in the Dark Ages

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Believe it or not, even though I am the ancient member of the Stiletto Gang, Nancy Drew was popular when I was a girl. I received Nancy Drew mysteries every birthday and Christmas and had them read before the days were over.

Like many others, I imagined myself doing all the things Nancy did on her adventures. Her tales fueled my imagination, causing me to suspect our neighbors of all sorts of suspicious doings, from being spies to kidnappers.

I babysat for a police officers two children and the foolish man left a loaded gun in a drawer in case I had to protect his kids from bad guys. Once I was sitting and someone actually tried to get into the house. The person shook the doorknob and rattled the door. I grabbed the gun (I was all of eleven being a seasoned sitter since the age of 10) and went to the door. “I have a loaded gun and I’m pointing it right at you.” Whoever it was must have believed me, because it became quiet.

I put the gun away, called my dad who lived two doors away. He was in bed so had to get dressed before he came up to look around the property. It took him so long, of course no one was to be found.

WWII was going on when I was a kid. Every house in the neighborhood was different. Back in those days, kids were allowed to roam without adult supervision. I loved to ride my bike to new places. Once I discovered a multi-turreted three story home built into the side of a hill. I imagined someone being held hostage inside or at the very least, it was filled with a bevy of ghostly beings.

I often pictured myself as the heroine who would come to the rescue or sound the alarm. I knew if we were invaded by the enemy I’d be recruited as a spy. After all, who would suspect a kid of being a spy?

Back in those days, I wrote my own mystery stories. By the time I’d outgrown Nancy and moved on to adult mysteries (often ones my mother told me not to read), I was putting out my own magazine reproduced on a jelly pad. (It had another name beginning with an h which I can’t remember, but it had a resemblance to hard jelly.) Since I wrote all the content, there was always at least one short mystery starring a young female sleuth.

As you can tell, Nancy Drew had a huge influence on me. When the movie came out I could hardly wait to take a couple of great-granddaughters. I enjoyed it much more than they did.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

In the Still of the Night

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Since it seems to be the week for blogs on the paranormal, I thought I’d chime in with my one and only ghostly encounter. I do believe in an afterlife, although it’s a vague concept that basically has me chatting on a daily basis with relatives I miss. I haven’t completely resolved in my mind how heaven and hell really work and I confess to a childish vision of their operations. For those I want to condemn to the celestial fiery furnaces, I’m hoping there is no such thing as purgatory because I want those evildoers on a nonstop express directly to the heat. And for those angels on earth who have done nothing but good in their lives, I want them enjoying the sweetness of heaven as soon as possible.

My mother, the original Evelyn, died six weeks after my daughter’s birth. I was, quite simply, an unholy mess. I went through all the stages of grief simultaneously, while at the same time, was numb to the point of emotional paralysis. How could I deal with my loss when everyday life was so demanding: a husband, three active sons, a newborn, home, writing commitments, legal issues with Mom’s estate – all on zero sleep?

About a month after she died, I finally fell into a dreamless slumber. It was so deep that not even a noise that would, pardon the pun, wake the dead, would have caused me to stir. But in a vision that is still as clear to me as if it happened just last night, my mother came to my room and stood next to my bed. I can’t tell you what she was wearing, although she looked healthy, unlike those last months when she became a shadow of herself. She wasn’t young; there were no halos, which makes sense because my mother was the epitome of style and there’s no way she’d ever wear a hat that didn’t have a snappy brim; no celestial music which also makes sense because my mother loved jazz so unless Ella Fitzgerald was scatting in the background, she would have turned off the sound.

Mom was kind, but brief and to the point – exactly as she was when alive. She told me that she was fine – and that I would be okay too. It wasn’t a long discussion, no descriptions of the better place she was in; not even, and I would have liked this, a “hello” from my dad. But it was such a comforting visit that I awoke at peace for the first time in weeks. My mother believed in taking care of business – and not even death could stop her from getting me back on track.

Was it my psyche healing itself? I don’t think so. I could definitely feel her presence and despite being a writer, I can’t get more descriptive than that. My mother was in the room with me – of that I am sure. And today, in heaven, she’s smiling that all these years later, she still has the power she always had to comfort and reassure her daughter. Thanks Mom.

Have you had any ghostly encounters?

Evelyn David

Ghost Hunting – Part 2

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Old creepy hotels are well … old. That was my first brilliant observation as my brother and I lugged our stuff from the parking lot up the front steps into the Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. The entrance doorknob was about six inches lower than a normal doorknob. At 5 foot 7 inches, I had to stoop to open the door. With my hands filled with two bags, my oversized purse, and my laptop, the maneuver was awkward and uncomfortable. Much like the rest of my stay in the Victorian hotel.

Old creepy hotels in the South in July are well … hot. Swelteringly hot. The Crescent Hotel has window air conditioning units in the guest rooms but the rest of the hotel is dependent on ceiling fans and cold spots created by ghosts.

Yep, ghosts.

First let me report that I didn’t see any ghosts. I don’t think I heard any ghosts. And I probably didn’t sense any ghosts. You’ll note that I’m a lot more definite about not seeing any manifestations, orbs, or unusual shadows.

We went on the Ghost Tour on Tuesday night, our second night, at the hotel. Starting at 8:00 P.M. a psychic with an intricate knowledge of the hotel’s history led a group of twenty or more through the hallways and basement of the 1886 Victorian hotel.

Originally a resort hotel, it later became a women’s college and dormitory, then a cancer clinic run by a charlatan, and again a hotel. Aside from a stone mason killed in an accident during construction and a young student who went off a balcony to her death, most of the reported ghost sightings involve patients from the hotel’s infamous cancer hospital days. Dr. Baker, a self proclaimed physician despite no medical training, cruelly butchered, through experimental surgeries and treatments, and generally swindled thousands of cancer victims. Many are buried or cremated on site. Check here for more details about the hotel’s history and ghost sightings.

The tour lasted more than two hours. I had plenty of time to watch for ghosts and to watch the people in the group watching for ghosts. By far the people watching was the most interesting. The demographics of the tour group ranged from 2 to 70-plus years in age, from male to female to uncommitted. All were busy with digital cameras trying to catch a spirit appearance. The two-year-old did a lot of running and screaming down the hallways. I had a feeling that if a ghost had shown up, the toddler would have had company.

My brother took over a hundred photos, one that showed a possible orb (a spirit with only enough energy to appear as a ball of light in photos). Or it might just have been the sun through the skylight.

And one that showed something we couldn’t identify. He took several photos of empty chairs in spots where ghosts were reported to hang out. In the photos as in real life, the chairs appeared empty.

Personally I think the ghosts were absent because of the heat. It felt like a 110 F in the non-air conditioned lobby and hallways. What self-respecting ghost would choose to suffer those temps when they could be out in the gardens or the pool scaring humans?

Okay – so I didn’t see any ghosts on this trip. And I mentioned above that I don’t think I heard any ghosts. The reason I’m not as sure about the audio encounters is that between the organic noises of the old building (banging elevator, creaking floors, unbalanced ceiling fans, sounds from substandard plumbing, noisy window air conditioner units turned to the “freeze please” setting, etc.) and the loud voices of flesh and blood guests who’d spent too much time in the bar, I wouldn’t have been able to hear a ghostly whisper, moan, or groan if my life depended on it.

Okay – the first night I might have heard metal gurneys from the 1930s being pushed back and forth in the hallways. Or more likely, I heard the sounds of living guests pulling their wheeled suitcases over the wooden floors. I had a digital audio recorder with me. And like the investigators on Ghost Hunters, I had planned to sit in my empty room, turn the recorder on, and then ask if any ghosts wanted to talk to me. But … I kept thinking, what if they did? What would I do if I asked a question and got an answer? How would I react? My world view would be changed. My religious beliefs would be challenged. And most importantly, I would have had to pack up and find a Holiday Inn in the middle of the night. I decided it was better to leave the recorder in my purse.

So no visuals. No sounds. What about sensing ghosts?

Maybe.

When I was in the basement (the location of the old operating and autopsy rooms) with the tour group, the keys I had in the pocket of my slacks, moved.

It felt like someone had passed a magnet by my hip and the metal hotel key and metal fob clanked together and moved away from my body. It was a strong enough sensation that I asked the tour guide if there were magnets in the area. He said, “No. Ghosts like to play tricks with keys.” He told me that I’d been “touched.”

I’m not so sure. I’m a born skeptic. But I admit the possibility forced me to sleep with a light on my last night at the hotel.

Will I go back? Probably not. At least not in the summertime. Maybe Halloween?

Even though I didn’t leave with concrete proof of ghosts, I did leave with a good story. For a writer, that’s all that matters.

Evelyn David

Alas, No Ghostly Visitation

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Hubby and I chose to stay in Room 17 of the Bella Maggiore Bed and Breakfast in Ventura CA because the room is supposed to be haunted. We did not have a ghostly visitor. My daughter looked up the ghost and said it was because the ghost, a prostitute in her former life, only visited men who stayed in the room by themselves. Guess I ruined it.

However, we did have a rather intimate romantic encounter with a real live young man. Room 17 opens on a balcony shared with another larger room. There are no windows in these rooms, only doors that open to the balcony with no screen door and a transom. We were sitting in our room with the door open, when this darling young man popped in to inform us he was having a surprise party for his girlfriend’s birthday at 10 p.m. on our shared balcony complete with music, a Spanish harp and guitar along with a singer. We were invited.

Both of us were tired, but assured our visitor we’d enjoy the music. Of course we had to shut the door and the drapes in order to go to bed, because the chairs and table were only a few feet from our room. At 10 p.m. the music began. It was lovely and very romantic. It was over by 11.

The next day, after we’d had our wonderful breakfast and hubby was transporting our bags to the car, I was sitting on the bed with door open and in pops the young lover. He wanted to know if we’d enjoyed the music, I assured I’m had. I said, “I hope your fiancee appreciates you, not many men are as romantic.” She came out and I met her (cute young thing) and told her that her boyfriend was definitely a keeper. He said, “Thank you.”

From there we went to the Premiere Author event at the Crowne Plaza hotel. Though it was nice, we didn’t have much traffic. The talks about writing and poetry reading were scheduled back-to-back with no time in-between for the attendees to step into the book room. I sold two books and I don’t think anyone else sold more than one. Of course, the organizers realized they’d made a mistake. But it was wonderful to see and smell the ocean air.

From there, we headed to the Bank of Books (bookstore in a former bank) and set up for a talk about mystery writing. This was planned spur of the moment, so didn’t expect much of a turn-out and I was right. Three people came to hear me and we all had fun. We will plan another event, with a bigger lead-in time for the fall.

No matter what, we had a good time. We spent Saturday night in our youngest daughter’s new home, beautiful and huge. Five bathrooms! Can’t imagine having to clean them all. Of course she says my grandchildren are responsible for their own. (They’re grown or nearly grown, so it is possible this might happen.)

After a great breakfast, we left the cool temperatures by the ocean and headed back to the hot temperatures of the San Joaquin Valley.

This week I’m helping out at Vacation Bible School. Actually had fun with the fifth and sixth graders that I had to keep track of.

Marilyn