The first story
happened when I was about 2 years old when we lived in Brownstown. Many people in my
family have told me this story. I don't remember because I was so little. When I was born,
my Uncle Jeff took quite a liking to me. He was always at my house, and he loved
playing with me. He treated me as though I was his daughter, and from what I'm told, I
adored him. When I was 2, he died in a car accident. 2 weeks after his death, my parents
woke up around 3 a.m. to my cries. My mom was very tired and asked my dad to go in
my
room and see if I was ok. When he came into my room, he found me in my bed facing the
window, pointing and crying. I kept repeating Jeff's name. My dad picked me up and took me
over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and said "See, there's no one
there." We
lived in an apartment building on the second floor, so there couldn't be ANYONE there
anyway. But, just after he said this, I calmed down, started smiling, and started talking
to the window. My dad tells me that it was kind of eerie. He says that I was acting as if
I actually was talking to my Uncle Jeff. But, he just stood there letting me talk, since
it seemed to calm me down. After a couple of minutes, I said, "Ok. Love you,
Uh-bye Jeffy". I laid my head on my dad's shoulder and fell back to sleep.
My next story happened in 1992. I was a teenager in high school then. In 1990, my family
and I moved into a townhouse complex in Taylor (Pick Wick apartments.). They have
these big lights up near the top of the buildings, 2 stories high, (usually 2 on each) to
light up the place at night. We lived in a building in the very back, right next to the
office and recreation area (basketball courts, pool, etc.). Well, the light on the back of
our building was right next to my mom and dad's bedroom window. My parents used to
complain to my grandparents about how that light would keep them up. They bought thick
curtains, but the light made it possible for the teenagers in the complex to play
basketball till the wee hours in the night. The noise would always keep them up. Well, my
grandfather had passed away and the night of his wake, we had just gotten home. My mom
went upstairs to get ready for bed my brothers were staying the night at my grandmother's
house and my dad and I were in the kitchen (Just below my mom's bedroom, on the same side
of the house) My dad and I were getting coffee ready for the next day, when we heard a
loud noise, sort of a crashing sound, and we seen sparks and something fall, right out the
kitchen window. At the same time we heard my mom scream. The two of us flew up the stairs
to see if she was ok. She was standing at her window looking out. We went to the window
and looked. There on the ground was the big troublesome light. My dad went outside and
looked around. There was no one in sight. The next morning, we walked over to the office
and told management what had happened. They sent over a maintenance man. As he cleaned up
the mess, he asked us if we saw who did it. We told him it just fell. He then told us
there was no way that it had just fallen off. The supports that hold it up looked as
though someone had forcefully pulled it off. And these were strong supports. Later my mom
had told us that she thought she had heard her dad say her name just before it had
happened, but figured we would have thought she was just grieving, and just imagining it.
I believe her.
My grandmother moved in with us about a week or two after the above story
happened. She had been fighting cancer for about 5 years and we knew it was about the end.
We had hospice come in and help during the day and at night we would keep an eye on her.
She had to be hooked up to a breathing machine, and one of those heart monitors. She
lasted about 2 months more, and passed on. From then on, till we moved out, I could always
hear those machines going at night (my bedroom was right next to hers). My brothers got
that room
after she had died. I've wondered, but never asked them, if they ever heard the noises.
I moved in with my fiancée' (who had
lived across the parking lot from me for years --in Pick Wick apartments) about 5 years
ago. He had lived in that apartment for the past 12 years. First with his mom, then with
his dad when his mom got remarried and moved out. (His parents had been divorced for quite
some time) His sister and her family had lived there with
him and his father a few years before me and then moved out, but at the time that I moved
in, she and her family were back living with him. Needless to say, the basement was FULL
of things from the families over the years. One of them had acquired a rocking chair at a
garage sale. My husband told me that he had always sensed that there was a presence in
that chair. He felt that it was an old woman. When he would go down into the basement to
do laundry, he would see it rocking. A steady, unending rocking. He was never afraid of
her though. He would often talk to her. Just shooting the breeze. One day, about 3 months
after my sister in law and her family moved out. Again my husband and father in law were
at work, I decided to start cleaning out the basement. It was so dirty and had so much
stuff, that it was difficult to walk from the stairs to the washing machines. The light
bulb was out and we had no spare bulbs, so I found a kerosene (I think I spelled it wrong)
lamp, and lit it. It was so bad down there that I couldn't find a table to set it on so, I
put it on a tall stack of stuff. The stack was made up of clothes, papers and books. It
was slightly cock-eyed, but it was flat on the top. I proceeded to put things in garbage
bags. I could feel the old woman watching me, but she was always a kind sort of soul. I
picked up bag after bag of trash, old shoes, newspapers, clothes that no one wore anymore
and a bit mildewed, lots of burnt out light bulbs, and so much more, but still there was
no end in sight. I hadn't even made a dent in the mess. I sat down on a heap and closed my
eyes for a couple of seconds, feeling the most overwhelming sense that I'd never get that
basement clean. When I opened my eyes again, after only a couple of seconds, I found in
front of me a clearing in the trash. The clearing was only about a foot in diameter, but
right in the middle of it was a light bulb. I picked it up expecting it to be burnt out
like all the other one's I'd thrown away, held it to my ear and shook it. Nothing. So, I
screwed it into the socket. It WORKED! I couldn't believe it. I just know the old woman
gave it to me. She must have known that the lamp that I was using wasn't safe. I thanked
her.
My sister told my next story to me in
law, my husband, and a friend that used to live in the
apartment right next door. There was a time that my husband and his family didn't have a
phone for about 8 months. So, they gave family members and essential people the phone
number of their friends next door. Whenever my husband or anyone in his family would
get
a call, their friends would knock loudly on the wall to let them know and they would come
get the phone. They had sensed and experienced many strange things around before.
One day, the two families were all at my husband's house playing cards. The friend’s
house next door was empty, and locked. While they were playing, they heard a loud knock
coming from next door, a knock like there was someone letting them know to come get the
phone. They all looked at each other and the guys got up, grabbed what ever handy
(baseball bats, golf clubs...), and went next door. The doors were still locked, the
windows still closed. They
searched the place. There was no one there. They all went back and started playing their
game when it happened again. And again, nothing was there. It happened every once in a
while when they were all at one or the others house after that, and occasionally, my
husband or someone in his family would hear the knock, go next door to get the phone, to
find out
there was no phone call, and no one had knocked for them.
While living in that building, after
the neighbor friends moved out, and my husband’s sister and her family moved out, I
always felt a bit uneasy about our back yard. We were all the way in the back of the
complex and there is a thick bunch of trees that line the back of the park. I always felt
as though someone, who didn't like me, was watching me whenever I passed a window that
looked out the back. For a while I was really letting it get to me. One night after
getting in bed, my husband sound to sleep next to me, I heard a low moaning sound. Almost
like a whisper. Scared, I peeked over my blankets around the
room. There was nothing but shadows. When something caught my attention out the corner of
my eye. I looked over to where my mirror was, and in the reflection, across the room near
the end of my bed, was an old man. He was about 6' tall, had a very bushy beard, long
straggly hair, and a hat. He was dressed in what looked like old farmer clothes and they
looked a bit tattered. It was quite dark in the room, but I could still see him. Where his
eyes
should have been, were just dark spots. He just stood there. Kind of hunched over. Like he
had very bad posture. He stared at me. I was so scared I couldn't move. I tried to say my
husband’s name, but nothing came out. I swear that man hated me. I never saw him
again, but still felt him whenever I passed the back windows or my mirror. We moved out
about 6
months later.
While we lived in the apartment in the
above stories, I had a baby. Ever since our son was born, he would stare at corners, talk
and giggle at them. Often times he would point at the corner of a ceiling and laugh. When
we moved into the home we now have here in Flat Rock he did something one day that totally
freaked out my little brother that was staying with us
at the time. My brother and I were sitting at the computer in the dining room. My 3 year
old son was playing in his bedroom. He came to the doorway, which is right between where
the living room and dining room meet and stood there for a minute. Then he pointed to the
ceiling above where my brother and I were, and while as if following something going
across the ceiling into the living room. He pointed and said, "Look mama, Look at the
girl". My brother and I felt a cold breeze and froze. I told my brother not to worry,
but he nearly fell off his chair. My son sometimes talks to people that I can't see. I
wonder how many are just imaginary people, and how many are spirits. |