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Rated: E · Short Story · Biographical · #1403108
The ghosts that live at my house.
It all started when my wife and I were having our dream home built. A log cabin tucked into an undisturbed Pine Flatwoods Forest on Florida's West coast. We chose the site for the home after evaluating the elevation and terrain of the surrounding areas for sale. If you know anything about Florida, this is a primary consideration as heavy rains turn dry lands into wetlands in a short period of time.
The location we decided to build on was a unique rise of ancient coastal dune, surrounded by multiple periodic wetland marshes. Unlike the neighboring parcels, this one had this unique feature and prompted us to purchase the site.
Upon contracting a builder, we regularly checked up on the home's progress, almost every day taking photos of the progress, and checking the construction.
The first occasion to suggest there was something out of the ordinary was after the stem wall and support foundations of the house were established. Being ever conscious of the construction process, we came to the site one evening after the supports for the raised floors were done, cleaning out every scrap of wood inside the square stem wall foundation. We did this of course to discourage any nutrition for woods greatest fan, the termite.
I was working in one section of the square and my wife was working in another. A low hum started to come to my attention, and turning around I saw Liz standing over in another area, looking at where the hum was coming from. One of the pieces of exposed re-bar sticking out of one of the concrete support columns was vibrating. Stupefied at the occurrence, completely at a loss for the action, I began to feel the hairs on my neck tingling, and said, "Get the hell away from it"!
The re-bar continued vibrating more frantically and it's low hum continued increasing in pitch until it was as if a jet engine were revving up. We stood there, not even able to comprehend why, or what was causing the reverberation. When it reached an incredible pitch, it was as if someone snapped there fingers, and the metal bar stopped, and silence reined.
We looked at each other and I said, "Don't ask me". There was absolutely no explanation I could come up with for the occurrence.
After the house was finished and we had moved in, we began to note further strange oddities.
Sitting at dinner one night, we were talking about our day at work, when we heard the voices of angry Spanish speaking men in our living room. It was such a frightening shock, I immediately procured my firearm and started looking around the house, not sure exactly where the voices had come from, checking all the home's rooms and the outside of the house. There was nothing to be seen, so I went back to dinner. No sooner had I sat down than the voices came back. This time I discovered the source. I'd been playing the stereo earlier, had a CD on, and after it finished playing I failed to turn it off. The voices were from what we could conclude, coming into the stereo from fishermen off the coast using VHF radios. I don't know how this was possible.
Next there was the tinkling bells in our Laundry room. Watching TV one evening, we both looked at each other and there was no reason to ask, "Do you hear that". I got up and went to the room peering inside the door to see nothing, but still hearing the lightly tinkling bells continue. I walked inside and the noise stopped. Okay I thought, I got this one figured out. It must have been the clothes hangars on the rack had been pushed together by a breeze and that had caused the bell sounding noise. I looked, they were all plastic.
And this was just the beginning.
One night when my wife was out of town, I had been going through some particularly strenuous times, and my prayers to God for guidance were pretty much going unanswered. So I went on the computer and began searching for another avenue for answers, delving into the world of mysticism and doing a good deal of searching in the Bible Codes CD I have. Experiencing no great success with the venture, and feeling angry and depressed, I started closing up the house and locking the doors, getting ready for bed. As I walked to the large sliding glass door in the back of the house, I walked in front of the TV. As soon as my foot hit the floor in front of the television it turned itself on. Yeah, I stopped in my tracks, saying to myself, "Oooo, Kay". I turned the TV off and closed the back door. Turning around again and lookin at the applianace, you'll never guess, yep, it turned itself on again. Now I'm starting to get a little spooked, but figure, there's a logical explanation. No it's never done anything like this before. Ah maybe thats it, I thought, the remote batteries are dying and it
might have flickered, turning it on. So I take out the batteries, and turn the TV off. I stand there and wait a minute or two, and nothing happens. Alright, problem solved and mystery too. I head for the bedroom and as soon as I step one foot inside, oh yeah, it turns itself on again.
Now I'm scared. One thing you should never do to me is scare me. The reason being, is that my fear usually manifests itself into irrational dangerous anger. I turned to the TV and said in a damnable tone of voice, "I've had enough of this (STUFF)", expletive deleted, "so knock it off". This time, it turns itself off.
Nodding and snorting that my orders had been carried out, I went to bed sleeping soundly until morning, and just as I made the transition from subconscious to the fully awake, guess what, it turned itself on again.
Needless to say I unplugged it. If it would have turned on after that, well I don't know, but it didn't. Later that day I plugged it back in and the problem hasn't recurred now for the last eight years.
One final thing, because if I were to relate all the stories, this would be a book, or someone would accuse me of doing illicit drugs and have me put away. As well as the fact that some of what I could tell is simply to far out there to believe, even though I experienced it. I'll leave with this one.
We have had three dogs in this home, one has passed away and the other two are still healthy and with us, but racking up the years. Our prior dog, and the two we have now, have all had experiences with the (ghosts?), or whatever it is. Many is the time they will raise the hair on their back and bark at an unseen something. One hound we have barked and growled at a blank wall for almost two minutes, then continued as it's head moved upward, eyeing something that apparently rose up, not within our realm of sight.
The only conclusion I can come to is that we have built our home on some ancient American Indian burial site or something.
Arrowheads and a very unique pipe bowl have turned up by doing some digging in our yard. We continue to capture ghost images on photographs, never on purpose, they just show on the image after we've taken a digital picture around the house or in our yard.
We are in our fourteenth year here now, and though sometimes disconcerting, our visitors have never caused us harm. Hope we can all just continue to get along.
Uh, oh. Gotta go, something just dropped in the kitchen.
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