Where's Whoopi Goldberg When You Need Her?
About three weeks ago I was walking my dog in the historic cemetery in our 'hood. We usually stick to the main path which has the most recent graves, bearing dates in the 1900-1970 range or so. (We stick to this path because it is wide and I know he won't pee on any headstones). For no particular reason, on this particular day, Mercury was hell-bent on running up this one particular hill to sniff at one particular grave in the not so recent section of the cemetery (graves bearing the dates in the 1700's and 1800's). I could not pull him away, so I followed him thinking we'd find a squirrel or something edible that he was tracking on. Instead he led me directly to the gravestone of the woman who built the house I live in. I did not even know she had been buried in this cemetery.
We live in an historic home in an historic district. The previous owners of our house did an enormous amount of research on the history and fought a successful battle to be recognized by the landmarks organization in our area. As a result of their efforts, we have a little plaque on our house that bears the name of the spinster who built and lived in our home nearly 2 centuries ago. Among the various papers and items the previous owners bestowed upon us when we moved in, was a small photo of the way the house looked 100 years ago or so. It's a tiny photograph, and it was nailed to a wall in the entryway of the house. We left it there upon moving in.
A few days after Mercury found Polly Porterfield's grave, I was standing in the kitchen and I heard a pop. I turned around and the photograph of the house had flown -- not dropped -- across the entry way and was laying near the front door -- a full 5 feet or so away from where it had been hanging for who knows how many years.
Last night when I came back from rehearsal, my babysitter said had been hearing knocking noises and asked jokingly if we had a ghost she should know about. I sat down and was about to tell her the stories of the grave and the photograph falling down... and the second I said "Actually, I think we DO have a ghost!" the television suddenly snapped off. Neither of us were near the television or the remote control. And nothing else shut off with it... lights were still on, the DVR and other electronic items in the TV cabinet were still on.
We both kind of laughed it off nervously.
This morning the babysitter called to tell me she's sick and can't come tonight. Taking bets as to whether or not she'll ever come back. Until I know for sure, I need to find a last minute babysitter for tonight.
Maybe Polly Porterfield has no plans?
We live in an historic home in an historic district. The previous owners of our house did an enormous amount of research on the history and fought a successful battle to be recognized by the landmarks organization in our area. As a result of their efforts, we have a little plaque on our house that bears the name of the spinster who built and lived in our home nearly 2 centuries ago. Among the various papers and items the previous owners bestowed upon us when we moved in, was a small photo of the way the house looked 100 years ago or so. It's a tiny photograph, and it was nailed to a wall in the entryway of the house. We left it there upon moving in.
A few days after Mercury found Polly Porterfield's grave, I was standing in the kitchen and I heard a pop. I turned around and the photograph of the house had flown -- not dropped -- across the entry way and was laying near the front door -- a full 5 feet or so away from where it had been hanging for who knows how many years.
Last night when I came back from rehearsal, my babysitter said had been hearing knocking noises and asked jokingly if we had a ghost she should know about. I sat down and was about to tell her the stories of the grave and the photograph falling down... and the second I said "Actually, I think we DO have a ghost!" the television suddenly snapped off. Neither of us were near the television or the remote control. And nothing else shut off with it... lights were still on, the DVR and other electronic items in the TV cabinet were still on.
We both kind of laughed it off nervously.
This morning the babysitter called to tell me she's sick and can't come tonight. Taking bets as to whether or not she'll ever come back. Until I know for sure, I need to find a last minute babysitter for tonight.
Maybe Polly Porterfield has no plans?
posted by Martha Who? | 6:12 AM
2 Comments:
Time to call Ghost Hunters! http://www.the-atlantic-paranormal-society.com/
How cool would it be to get your house on that show!
I'm addicted to the show myself and ditto a.I. deviant's comments. Ya'll feel anything?
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