"One of my plethora of extreme interests is the Supernatural. Ghosts, spirits,
whatever you want to call it, it's something that's been close to me all my
life, because it's been close to my family. Although I haven't had any of the
"close-encounters" that others in my family have had, I believe, like to
research the topic, and I've actually joined a paranormal research group. Now, I
can almost see some of your heads shake like "okay, this guy's.... a looney!"
This is something I just can't understand. There are so many who have no problem
with faith in an omnipotent being that created and watches over us, but yet the
same people think that those who believe in earth-bound souls, or telepathy, or
other such paranormal subjects, are just plain nuts."
No, Mo, I don't think you're nuts. I might, had I not grown up on a haunted farm. My family moved there when I was about eight and we left six years later.
I have no explanation for the things that happened there. I can't explain the mysterious lantern light that would come down the path and disappear, the male voices outside our door, the feeling of "others" in the house and surrounding property. Sometimes these unseen presences seemed benign, sometimes sad, sometimes downright menacing.
Our animals were good barometers. I can remember the cats standing - backs arched and tails like bottle-brushes - in the center of the room, circling and hissing at something our senses couldn't detect. I can remember our otherwise unflappable trail horses stopping for something invisible as we rode, their eyes rolling in panic at something on the path when there was nothing there.
My aunt also lived on the property, across a narrow road from her mother. One night she awoke to see the figure of a young, sad-looking woman in 19th centry dress pointing out the window in direction of her mother's place. The next morning her mother came over to say she'd heard some "kids" behind her house. One was a girl, sobbing hysterically. The other a young man very earnestly saying, "No matter what happens, you must never tell." When she looked out, there was no one to be seen.
We knew a family had lived and died on the land, a family by the name of Ennis. We knew because they were all buried there in a graveyard that held all the family headstones but also contained an unmarked plot. There patriarch of the family had survived his first wife and had remarried. They were all there in the ground, along wtih their children. The relative of a local historian said she thought they'd died of some sort of fever. She also claimed the land was the site of some sort of Coharie Indian massacre, although I've never found anything to back either story up.
So what happened on the land? Something apparently did, and something remained. Is it spirits? Demons? Psychic energy played back like a reel that rewinds itself over and over?
I have my own thoughts on this, but would be intersted to hear what you think of ghosts and things ghostly, and particularly where you think this plays into your own personal theology and views of the afterlife.