Ghost Talks

June 11th, 2015

Dad's ghost whispers, grandpa's ghost rings the bell. I wonder why there it a difference in the way they communicate with us.

Would your "body condition" at the moment of death have an influence on your afterlife?

When dad died, he could speak. Grandpa on the other hand, had lost his voice. The last days of his life, grandpa could only whisper.

If dad sounds like he's whispering when he's actually talking normal, then I would never be able to understand grandpa when he's whispering.

I think that's why grandpa rings the bell and dad whispers.

At least that's what I make of it. I don't know if I'm right, but that's the only explanation I can come up with...

June 30th, 2015

Holy macramonies! While uploading my notes, the computer screen suddenly freezed.

I restarted my computer and scrolled through my notes. Luckely, I hadn't lost any data. There was something odd, though.

In the middle of the document one sentence -only one- had been changed.

Instead of 

"At least that's what I make of it. I don't know if I'm right, but that's the only explanation I can come up with..."

it now said:

"At least that's what I make of it. I don't know if I'm right, but that's the only explanation."

Is someone telling me I'm on the right track?




(image found at; theghostdiaries.com)

Ghostly Whispers

June 3rd, 2015

Since dad died, I hear whispering at night.

I could never really understand what is being said, so I decided to train myself. I started to focus every night a little longer on the whispers, trying to decipher the messages.

Last night the training finally paid off: I could hear a conversation between two people.
The "translation" of the whispers was always 3 words behind, but I could understand what they were saying.
The two ghosts were talking about renovating a shed, but one had to watch out for a red wooden log or something.

When I told mom about it, she was in shock: the day before he died, dad told her the roof of the shed needed to be redone. The roofers had to watch out because the red painted log isn't as strong as it used to be.

I wasn't home during my parents' conversation. And mom never talked about it before today...


We're making progress.



(image found at: www.englishteachermelanie.com)

Staircase Ghosts

May 28th, 2015

Home alone, I was running down the stairs.

Midway the staircase, the air suddenly got rather chilly. While I was wondering about this sudden temperature change, a hand pushed me.

I was about to fall, when someone else pushed me back. I regained balance and arrived downstairs unharmed.

Realising what had happened, I immediatly went upstairs, carefully examening every step. The colder area midway the staircase had disappeared...

Did I just walk through a ghost? Who pushed me down the stairs and why? Who pushed me back?

There are still a lot of unanswered questions.




(image found at: egyperceskrimi.blog.hu)

Hush

May 18th, 2015

Grandma made waffles. She invited the whole family to come over.

While we were sitting around the table, her friends popped in. As usual that one friend of hers started to complain.

All of a sudden, the bell rang. There was nobody at the door... The sound came from the middle of the room, next to the friend's chair.

The woman asked what that sound was. Grandma told her it's grandpa. "How?",  was the only thing the friend could stutter.

Shocked, the woman stayed quiet for a while. When she wanted to continue her complaining, the bell rang again. There was still nobody at the door. The sound came from next to the woman's chair.

My sister said something, the bell didn't ring. The friend felt like opening her mouth, the bell didn't stop ringing. Grandma said something, the bell immediatly stopped ringing. That friend wanted to complain, the bell rang....

It's weird, but intriguing at the same time. This proves we're not imagening things: other people hear that bell too. And nobody seems to be able to find what makes that noise.

Ghosts are real.



(image found at: plus.google.com)

Ghost Doctor

May 15th, 2015

Eversince the accident 10 years ago, my wrist hurts every day. The doctors told me they can't do anything about it: it will hurt the rest of my life.

The last 5 years it got worse, so I started to wear a strong bracelet for support.

When grandpa died -January 7th, 2015- my wrist started to hurt like hell. (Sorry for the expression. There is no other way to describe it, tough.)

I don't like anything that can affect my senses. That's why I refuse to take any painkillers. The only way to keep the aches bearable, was by upgrading the bracelet.

One week later I started to wear a glove with some metal in it for extra support.

Every morning I immediatly grab my glove: one minute without the glove and I cry out in pain.

But since I felt that hand on my back, the aches are getting less and less. I don't grab for my glove anymore. Everyday I can walk around a bit longer without having to wear it.

Today I could even go a whole day without the glove.

Did that hand heal my wrist? How? Why? How did it know my wrist hurt? Grandpa didn't know it and dad hadn't got a clue either...

Who or what was it? How can I say "Thank you"?

(image found at: freyaloves.deviantart.com)

A Cold Touch

May 4th, 2015

I know it's already late. I should be in bed, but I first need to write this down...

Today I had classes 'till 21.00h.. An hour later I was back home.

Eventough it was already dark, I passed by my rabbits to make sure they were alright. I also made preparations to feed the wild birds the next day.

During the preparations outside, I suddenly felt a hand on my back. A shiver went through my spine: the hand felt so unnaturally cold. I immediatly turned around... There was nobody.

I was standing in an open space, the ground existing out of little stones. Whenever you run or make sudden movements, those stones make a lot of noise. The outdoor lights were turned on, so I had a clear view of my surroundings. Nobody could have hid or run off without me noticing it.

I clearly felt that hand, though. Someone has touched my back, I'm not imaging it.

Was it dad? Was it grandpa? Was it someone else? Or something else? Whose hand did I feel?




(image found at: www.thehorrorzine.com)

Ding Dong Dead

April 29th, 2015

Today mom and I went to my grandparents' house. Grandma had asked me to have a look at grandpa's camera and computer.

I decided to first fiddle with the camera in kitchen. Meanwhile mom and grandma had a look at the computer in the living room, at the other side of the house.

Not long after they'd left the kitchen, grandma fetched me: the computer screen had frozen. I followed her to the living room.
When I came near the computer, the screen was acting normal again.
I went back to the camera.

A few minutes later mom and grandma joined me in the kitchen. Mom wanted to know if I had also heard the bell ringing. "What bell?" I asked. Grandma smiled.

"Your late grandfather has started to ring the front door bell.
When a human being rings it, it doesn't work. If you don't believe me, go and have a try.
There is nothing wrong with the wiring: it just only rings whenever I do something your grandpa never liked me doing.
He never liked your mom or me messing with his electronics, that why he rang that bell a few minutes ago. He never minded you playing with it, so the bell stopped the moment I fetched you."

"I want to hear that bell too," I said, "Grandpa, if you're here, will you please ring the bell?"

The bell rang. There was nobody at the front door, I checked. The sound seemed to come from the middle of the room, but there was nothing that could produce that sound...

Grandma went outside to ring that bell as well. She kept pushing, but no sound came out of it. When mom tried, still no sound.

Did grandpa find a way to break down the wall between the human dimension and the ghost world? How is he doing it? Is there a way to make him visible to us one day? Would dad be able to communicate the same way? Am I too able to break down the wall?

I should do some more research. This is really getting interesting.




(image found at: io9.com)

Reaching out from the other side

April 19th, 2015

Since my father died, everything is weirder than usual. Yes, it's weird not having him around. Yes, everyone is acting weird because we all grieve in a different way. I don't mean that.

No, it's just... I've got the feeling his ghost is still around: since Sunday remote controles are moving, baskets suddenly fall down with great force...

I even think dad tries to communicate with me: there's a knocking on the bathroom door (when everyone in the house is downstaires), I hear someone whistling in my room (when everyone else is asleep), there's the tapping on my window....

If you close your eyes at night and concentrate, you can hear whispering. I can't understand the words, though.

I need to find a way to understand what he says.




(image found at: www.christopherfowler.co.uk)

Ghost Diary

The years passed by without any remarkable things happening. That all changed this year, though.

In January 2015 my grandfather died, in April my dad. They are two of my many family members who, without any propable cause, dropped dead, always with 3 weeks apart.

None of them seems to have"gone to the other side". They are haunting my grandparents' and our house.

I keep a record of all the ghost activity and try to break down the wall seperating this world from theirs.

This is my haunted house ghost diary.



(image found at: www.deseretnews.com)

The Faceless Man

It was the year 2007. It was a time of no sorrows. The world was at my feet: I dreamt about sailing the seven seas on a huge pirate ship, about time travelling and solving cases with Sherlock Holmes.

One night, however, it all changed. That night I met the faceless man.

He was the guy I rushed by, chasing professor Moriarty. He was the man in the shadows, watching me protecting the weak. He stood on the cliffs when I was searching for mermaids.... He was always too far away to see his face, but I recognized the smell of death.

That night I had enough of it. He was hiding behind a tree again. So, I ran towards him and asked why he was always following me. He fled, so I tackled him.

I turned him over and removed the long black hair from his face. I stared at a huge dark spot. His whole face was litteraly gone! Not a single hint of what once could have been eyes, nose or lips to discover. Only one huge black hole.

The guy freed himself and ran off.

The next time I saw him, the girl I loved, had died the next morning.

Whenever I now dream of the faceless man, I know Death is at my door. He stands there whenever one of my rabbits dies. He stood there the night grandpa died. He waked me a few seconds before dad collapsed and died in my mother's arms.



Is he the Angel of Death or is he Death himself?





(Image found at: ectoplasmicpotato.deviantart.com)

The Curious Case of Little Follower

It was the year 1999. Easter was almost there, so grandma decorated the whole house with a sea of flowers. 

Great-grandpa -who lived in- had died a few weeks before. She put a teddy bear in his now empty chair: a duck wearing a checkered ribbon. Knowing I would visit, she also put some teddy bears in the sofa for me to play with.

When mom, my siblings and I passed by, I immediatly hopped to the living room. I saw the little duck sitting in great-grandpa's chair. I've always been sensitive to other people's feeling. I knew that was great-grandpa's seat and I knew grandma always did her best to decorate the house. Putting that teddy bear in that chair was her way to honour great-grandpa. That's why I decided to play with the bears on the sofa instead.

All of a sudden the duck behind me started to move. Before I realised it, the little fellow was sitting on the ground next to me. It followed me everywhere I went. I was so excited: an actual moving teddy bear! 

I took the little duck and showed it to everyone in the kitchen. "Look! It follows me everywhere! Isn't it cool? I'll call him Little Follower." 
They all laughed, thinking my imagination had gone wild: I was the only one in the living room when it happened.

Everytime I visited my grandparents, I played with Little Follower. I walked around and that duck followed me everywhere. 

One day one of the grown-ups saw Little Follower indeed moving around, following me. They were shocked: that teddybear moved on its own! 

"What can we do about it?" "Is that duck evil?" "Would it hurt Kain?" I heard them worrying during an emergency meeting. Grandpa pleaded to let Little Follower stay with me: "I don't think that duck would harm him. Just look at those two. They are best friends!" The others agreed. I was allowed to keep the teddy bear, but only if the fellow would stop moving. 

That day Little Follower stopped following me.

A few weeks later, I was allowed to take the duck home. I put him in my bed. Since that day I hear his little footsteps walking around in my room at night...  




(Image found at: wall.alphacoders.com)