The Tragic Ghost in My House

It seems that ghosts are popular these days, particularly on television.  I hardly ever can click through the channels without finding ghost hunters busy at work some place.  Many people apparently would like to meet someone from the beyond.  Well, look in the mirror and introduce yourself.  You are a ghost in the making.

I probably have met more ghosts than most people have, and that is thanks to my dearly beloved late grandma, Winnie Brannon Nelson McCune.  She was fascinated with the spirit realm and introduced me to it when I was just a little girl.  Even though I haven’t actively sought the company of spirits, they have sort of stuck to me since we first met, and they seem to love to interrupt my life. (Grandma insisted they prefer to be called “spirits” and actually find the term “ghost” insulting.)

Are spirits real?  My answer to the above question is, “Yes, they definitely are real.”  I myself am glad that I can look forward to being a spirit, not bound by the material world; but in the meantime I’m enjoying this world as much as I can.

I’d like to tell you about one particular experience that I had with a spirit.  It came with proof of the experience.

About ten years ago, I moved into a very old house, at least more than a century old, in a small southern town. It had been built as an old farm house before indoor plumbing and electricity were available in the area, but all that and some extra rooms had been added later. The ceilings were about eleven feet high, and the rooms were large. There was a porch across the front, a large central foyer, and a big spacious kitchen. The yard was large, with pecan trees and huge red japonica bushes. I loved the old house and was thrilled to move into it.

The first time I was alone in the old house, I felt a spirit following me from room to room. It was during the day, and the tall windows let in the sparkling sunlight, so there was nothing spooky about it. I felt the spirit had experienced a tragic death in the house and was very lonely. As its image formed in my mind – I say in my mind because I don’t think we see spirits with our material eyes, although there is the sensation of actually seeing them with our eyes – I could see that this spirit was a teenage boy, and I felt that he had been shot and killed with a rifle in the old house. At first I wasn’t sure whether he had been murdered or killed accidentally; but after spending some time in the house that day, I was pretty sure that it had been an accident.

I question all such feelings or “sightings,” so I told myself maybe I was being a little too imaginative. Yet, the teenage boy returned again and again over the next several days. Finally, I believed that he was indeed real and not just a figment of my imagination, so I talked to him in my mind. I told him that this was not the best place for him, that he should go on to happier places, and I think he did that about a year later.

I never mentioned the spirit of the teenage boy to anyone. I was working as a newspaper reporter, and seeing spirits wouldn’t bode well for my credibility, since most people in that area did not believe in the supernatural.

I also felt some kind of criminal activity had taken place in the house over a long period of time, but that the crimes had nothing to do with the teenage boy.

About a year later I met a new friend.  When we were having dinner in the dining room of the old house one evening, he said,  “Do you know a boy was killed in this house?  He was a teenager, and he lived here. One of his friends was in the house with him when he accidentally shot himself with a rifle.  I knew both of them. The other one lives out in the country and is about my age now.”

He also told me that years afterward someone had used the house for growing marijuana, and there had been a big police raid on the house. Later the man who had grown and sold the marijuana, was tried and sent to prison for a few years.

That all happened long before I moved to the town, and I’m absolutely certain that I had never heard about any of it.

I’m not a psychic or a ghost hunter.  I don’t claim any special ability.  I’m an ordinary person who has lived an ordinary life. Yet, I believe the spirit realm is so close to us that we all receive impressions from the spirits and probably even see one every now and then, but we pass them off as I tried to do – as merely our imagination.

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