I have noticed a great number of paranormal investigators attribute their passion to early their childhood growing up in a haunted house. Vivid experiences are impressed upon us within the first 10 to 15 years of life and shape us in ways that we carry throughout our lives. Unfortunately, for me as a paranormal investigator, I did not grow up in a haunted house. Though I did experience several supernatural events as a child, I am convinced they had nothing to do with the physical home I grew up in. Maybe then it was fate that I have now moved into a haunted house and know what—it’s not all that bad.
For many, living in a haunted house conjures scenes of closet monsters and lifeless bedside visitors, but I have learned, probably like most, when you share your home with something the manifestations are generally acceptable, even at times humorous. I don’t claim to live in the most haunted house ever, but I have been surprised at the types and levels of activity. I also will say up front the activity, for the most part, is benign and seems to flare up every 3 to 4 months—but if anything it has been curious.
The house was built in the early 70s and is a standard split level home, not exactly the prototypical haunted mansion, but it does have a tragic past. Though not officially verified, we were informed that a male who lived at the residence committed suicide in the back yard and I am satisfied with the sources because they are original neighborhood residents with firsthand knowledge. But is this the cause of the paranormal activity? I do not know. The manifestations are mostly genderless involving movement of some kind. Whatever it is I have been surprised at its power and boldness.
As a whole, there are too many manifestations to list, so I will only speak of three and I will begin with the most recent involving an egg.
On the evening of February 28th, 2013; I was home making dinner and I needed three eggs. I discovered that the refrigerator only had one egg, so I went to a storage refrigerator we keep in our garage to get another carton of eggs. I placed the three eggs on a counter top and I proceeded to cook at the stove. At the time, only myself and our three boys were at home (my wife was away). While cooking something on TV distracted me and I left to see what it was. I was gone for about 3 minutes and then returned to the stove. Shortly after returning, I needed to add the eggs so I turned to the counter where I had placed them, but there were only two. I checked the egg cartons, sure enough one was empty and the new carton had two missing. I questioned the boys and I am satisfied they were not pranking me, (they were glued to a computer game at the time). I even tried to feed my dog a raw egg—he would not touch it. The egg just disappeared and it still has not reappeared over the past week. I have no explanation and I know there were three eggs on the counter.
The next incident occurred one evening in the spring of 2012. I had to take the garbage out to our outside garbage can. We have some concrete steps with a small landing to our front door. I completed my chore and had just arrived to the steps, when the sound of someone stomping their feet, like they were ponding off snowy boots, rung out in the darkness for about 5 seconds. It was not an echo, it was very loud and came from just inches in front of me on the landing. I just froze not because I was scared but because it was so odd that I was expecting to see a neighbor come around the bushes or the source to be revealed, but I was very alone with only the dim glow of street lights to reinforce the event. I slowly opened the door to find my wife reading on the couch a few yards away. I softly asked her if she had been listening. At first she acted confused by the question but then asked me why I was stamping my feet before I entered. After I told her my experience, she thought I was joking but as time has passed and other things have happened she has come to believe my account.
The Christmas Ornament
It was New Year’s Day of 2012 and, like many, my wife was taking down the Christmas decorations. Some of her favorite decorations are part of a miniature Christmas Village made of different buildings and figurines. Before the pieces were to go in storage she wanted to dust them so she placed the set on the kitchen table and dusted each individual piece. Before she could finish she witnessed one of the figurines (I believe it was a boy with a dog) fly off the table striking the wall. My wife was not too happy and blamed me and my “ghost hunting” for the incident.
There have been several other occurrences in and around our home and what I would tell others is no one has been hurt or even scared by the activity. It is not constant and seems to flare up every few months almost like it’s trying to remind us that it’s still here and if it remains this way I really don’t mind—just please, I would ask, don’t break any more of my wife’s stuff.