“Absolutely not, there are no ghosts in this house!” My late father-in-law was the ultimate sceptic.
"You have no idea,” I would reply, utterly insulted as he laughed at me, shaking his head in disbelief as he begrudged me a few more moments with my wonderful father.
Yet now, 6 years after his passing, he may wonder how he could have been quite so dismissive; unable to accept the truth as his broken heart was swept away into another world.
"You have no idea,” I would reply, utterly insulted as he laughed at me, shaking his head in disbelief as he begrudged me a few more moments with my wonderful father.
Yet now, 6 years after his passing, he may wonder how he could have been quite so dismissive; unable to accept the truth as his broken heart was swept away into another world.
Four years ago, Amy and The Farmer swapped beds for the night. The Farmer didn’t sleep a wink in his temporary retreat and from that day to this has questioned the unusual sounds he heard and the distinctive scuffling as someone quite clearly carried on their business around him. He was sure at the time that he wasn’t alone in that room and it took him six months to find the courage to tell me.
Amy has a beautiful picture of my grandma lodged inside the frame of a mirror in her bedroom. It is not uncommon for this picture to be found on the floor. It was once found face up on the bed, yet no one had been in the room. This room was once known as the ‘Bacon room’. Pigs were slaughtered on the farm and taken there. They were prepared, severed for consumption. Yet this room has a welcoming atmosphere. It sighs as you walk in, an unseeing smile washing away the harsh realities of life. I suspect it was also a child’s room in times gone by, a place of frivolity, hopes and dreams. I talk to my Grandma when I enter it. I wish her a good day. We smile together as we look out of the window at the little wendy house and the swing gently swaying in the breeze; the daisies scattered among the grass, and the gorse-covered hill beyond. She stands next to me, watching my eyes as I thank her. Thank her for finding me this heavenly piece of paradise. For sending me on a journey away from sorrow and helping me to understand where my journey will end.
I sat on the stairs. I told myself to stop what I was doing and note my inner feelings. The pungent aroma of TCP suddenly filled my senses. I closed my eyes, hoping to be greeted by the more welcoming scent of lavender. But the smell stayed with me. A sickly taste beginning to form in my mouth. I listened silently for the sound of chains and the ticking of a clock for as I sat there, my head resting against the wall, I suddenly feared I had been visited by a somewhat resentful spirit; a recently passed soul who was trapped between the gates of heaven and a lifetime of haunting. My late father-in-law used TCP daily. I never knew why. Perhaps tonight he will sit beside me as he reaches into his concealed pocket and takes out an invisible cigarette. I will hear the click of his lighter as the flame glows in the corner of my eye. Then I will experience that familiar tobacco smoke as it swirls through the air before resting on my clothes.
Determined not to believe in those unexplained events, this man has decided to revisit the house in which he lived for all of his life. I wonder if he has seen my friend, the 18th century Gentleman’s wife as she glides upstairs on her journey to the first floor. I wonder if he has encountered my Grandma as she stands at Amy’s bedroom window, admiring the beautiful landscape. I wonder if he can see my father; the man who breaths deeply by my side.
Revisiting the paranormal posts.
Amy has a beautiful picture of my grandma lodged inside the frame of a mirror in her bedroom. It is not uncommon for this picture to be found on the floor. It was once found face up on the bed, yet no one had been in the room. This room was once known as the ‘Bacon room’. Pigs were slaughtered on the farm and taken there. They were prepared, severed for consumption. Yet this room has a welcoming atmosphere. It sighs as you walk in, an unseeing smile washing away the harsh realities of life. I suspect it was also a child’s room in times gone by, a place of frivolity, hopes and dreams. I talk to my Grandma when I enter it. I wish her a good day. We smile together as we look out of the window at the little wendy house and the swing gently swaying in the breeze; the daisies scattered among the grass, and the gorse-covered hill beyond. She stands next to me, watching my eyes as I thank her. Thank her for finding me this heavenly piece of paradise. For sending me on a journey away from sorrow and helping me to understand where my journey will end.
I sat on the stairs. I told myself to stop what I was doing and note my inner feelings. The pungent aroma of TCP suddenly filled my senses. I closed my eyes, hoping to be greeted by the more welcoming scent of lavender. But the smell stayed with me. A sickly taste beginning to form in my mouth. I listened silently for the sound of chains and the ticking of a clock for as I sat there, my head resting against the wall, I suddenly feared I had been visited by a somewhat resentful spirit; a recently passed soul who was trapped between the gates of heaven and a lifetime of haunting. My late father-in-law used TCP daily. I never knew why. Perhaps tonight he will sit beside me as he reaches into his concealed pocket and takes out an invisible cigarette. I will hear the click of his lighter as the flame glows in the corner of my eye. Then I will experience that familiar tobacco smoke as it swirls through the air before resting on my clothes.
Determined not to believe in those unexplained events, this man has decided to revisit the house in which he lived for all of his life. I wonder if he has seen my friend, the 18th century Gentleman’s wife as she glides upstairs on her journey to the first floor. I wonder if he has encountered my Grandma as she stands at Amy’s bedroom window, admiring the beautiful landscape. I wonder if he can see my father; the man who breaths deeply by my side.
Revisiting the paranormal posts.
It sometimes makes you wonder...I've often experienced things like this. Love that Cover photo of the doggies. Wishing you, the farmer and Amy all the best for the new year. xx
ReplyDeletewow...never had that intense an episode but i am a believer and have had the unnexplainable happen....
ReplyDeleteEveryone has a psychic sense, I think, but some are more finely tuned than others. Two days ago, my husband's aunt passed away. She lived with us for months at a time on and off during the last few years. She was a sprightly lady of 88, who unfortunately broke her hip in July. Immobile and helpless, she just faded away. Just the day before she died, we got a call from her son to say she hadn't moved or spoken for three days, although her heart was beating. The next day we weren't too surprised to hear she'd passed on. During that day, my son aged nine years told me that during the previous night he had seen a shadow of a very thin person moving across his room. This was the time when she'd finally fallen asleep, although her heart was still beating. I've no doubt it was her. The room where my sons sleep was visited by her regularly when she lived here. She often walked through it to go to the bathroom or some other room. Then yesterday we found the box with her spectacles in it. They were broken. Is it really so strange?
ReplyDeleteMaybe he's trying to tell you you were right after all. :)
ReplyDeleteOoh, love stuff like this! Got a true ghostly event that I can't decide whether to put into my new book or not - it just seems too outlandish! By the way, have you read Sarah Waters' The Little Stranger? Wonderfully ghostly and atmospheric, as is the totally different Dark Matter by Michelle Paver. Might want to have the lights on while you read ...
ReplyDeleteFascinating. I've had some interesting experiences as well; just not sure whether to share. Deb
ReplyDeleteThat's very interesting. Where I used to work we had a gypsy/traveller ghost. He was very much a practical joker and I used to hate night shift. The bungalow was built on the site where travellers had lived for many years. He would often show himself.
ReplyDeleteThis is EXACTLY why I've started my new blog Kathryn, so that people will come forward with their spiritual experiences. This is more mediumship stuff, which isn't really my field, but I hope that people will come forward and share their experiences, to loosen that barrier around what is 'acceptable' to admit to and what isn't! These things really are more common than people might imagine and I am thrilled to see this. Utterly brilliant post. XX
ReplyDeleteI loved this! I often feel like I am not alone. In my old house it was a bitter kind of not alone, however here it is kind and familiar, I enjoy it. This post makes me feel my granddad again, it makes me remember to feel more x
ReplyDeleteThis was certainly worth hopping over for.
ReplyDeleteReally enjoyed.
Liska
@NewMumOnline
x
Spooky! But I know you don't feel that.
ReplyDeleteMaggie x
Nuts in May
One house I lived in a little girl used to visit at first I thought it was my own daughter in the night as she was about the same age, but on waking she was not there. The little girl would come into my bedromm during the night/early morning and run round the bed and get in the other side (like my daughter did first thing in the mornings) I could feel the mattress go down. This was when my (then) husband was not there. We also used to here her going down the stairs and I often got up to see why my own daughter was doing so only to find her fast asleep in her bed.
ReplyDeleteMy daughter has a visitor who always seems to check in on her when things are bad for her. A male that she only sees as a shadow in the corner of the room always in the same corner,and there is always a strong smell of tobacco smoke when he is around, pipe variety not cigarette. He visits her and is not tied to a specific house.
What a wonderful post to come back to after two years away! I have so missed all my wonderful blogger friends. My daughter would like to have a ghost in our house, but it's too new. My stepbrother died 15 years ago, and my mother has often felt his presence in the house.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant post. Very evocative. I believe in ghosts, 'though have never had any paranormal experiences myself. I envy your calmness about it all, but then your visitations are all obviously friendly and not malevolent.
ReplyDeleteI've avoided reading this for a while, because I prefer to shut down paranormal suggestion rather than allow myself to venture there. Like everyone else, I am fascinated by it. However the reality of it terrifies me and I'd never be able to sleep if I acknowledged it. I think you're brave to go there, and to put it out there for others to read x
ReplyDelete