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Top 5 Real Life Haunted Houses


Offbeat  (tags: haunted, houses, ghosts, spirits presence )


- 2252 days ago - science.howstuffworks.com
Twenty-three percent of American adults say they've seen a ghost or felt the presence of one.



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Kathy W. (299)
Sunday October 19, 2008, 12:21 pm
Thanks for artilce/with links Paige.
 

Past Member (0)
Saturday October 25, 2008, 12:37 pm
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Marie Carew (17)
Monday February 9, 2009, 5:59 pm
Documented Hauntings
As long as there is energy in our bodies there will be haunting’s
by our immortal souls. Through all of history some of our greatest
mysteries have been haunting’s recorded by men who have
experienced them first hand. In Washington, D.C. it has been
documented that there are ghosts residing in the White House. One
of the most fascinating tales of a President who experienced a
haunting was the tale of General Andrew Jackson who actually saw
the ghost of the famous “Bell Witch” of Tennessee when he stayed
one night at the John Bell plantation.
Another eerie tale is The Witch’s Footprint. After an Indian
woman named Ida Black was executed for witchcraft by an army
Colonel named Jonathan Buck, in the town Buckport, Maine
during the 17th century, something strange began to happen.
During her execution while being burned at the stake she yelled
these words:
“Though you may slay me now, my Colonel. I shall come back
and dance upon your gravestone until you roast in Hell.”
And that she did. For when the Colonel died, on his gravestone
to this day there is the image of a woman’s foot and lower leg.
The image looks to be imprinted there in blood and no matter
how many times the stone is cleaned or sanded the imprint
returns. Even to this day you can see the dancing footprint
underneath Colonel John Buck’s name.
Two other haunting’s that have always fascinated me are, The
Sarah Winchester House located in San Jose, CA where a widow
built room after room, and stair way after endless stairway (that
led nowhere) just so she could house the spirits of the dead and
the Madame Del Phine Lalaurie Mansion in New Orleans. Where
a woman tortured and abused slaves until their death which
resulted in one spirits brave move to stop her.
I’ve had experiences with haunting’s in homes that I have lived in
in Woburn, MA. During the 1970’s I happened to live at two different
addresses that were haunted. The first was 78 Washington Street,
now a realtor’s office. The second was 2 Valley Rd. A friend rented
the house at 78 Washington Street to our mother. The grass was so
high in the back yard we needed a scythe to cut it down. The house
was located directly beside a railroad track and across the street from
a Friendly’s Restaurant. I knew this house was special the minute I
saw it.
The living room ceiling had psychedelic lights installed. The back
bedroom had a small bloodstain on the far wall that dripped and stuck
thickly to the yellowed wallpaper and like the foot print on John
Buck’s grave, we could not wash it away. At night what seemed like
harmonica music would play whining and mournfully outside the
window in that room and my father, a devout catholic, would yell;
“Somebody shut that guy up!”
My mother would try to reassure him there was no one
there. The music continued every night that we lived in that
house, in fact one night my brother, sister and I, decided to
leave a tape recorder running. What we played back the following day
was a lot of distortion much like wind interfering with the harmonica
and a deep muffled voice clearly saying, “Help Me.”
We played this tape for everyone and got the same responses. Most
of the listeners thought my brother was the voice on the tape or our
father was playing a joke. My brother was only fifteen at the time and
didn’t have the vocal ability or strength to be the voice and my father
was too stern and religious for me to ever believe he would do such a
thing.
After that night more odd things began happening. From
the start, we all got a creepy feeling from the cellar, (all
except my father who never entered into such conversations).
In this house, the cellar floor was only partially finished in cement.
There was still a rectangular mound of dirt left uncovered and in a
pile, which I have to admit, did look like a grave. My sister and I used
a back room in the cellar as a playroom and we were often driven out
by the sinister sensation of being watched.
When we first moved in, my mother had lost her Lazy Susan when we
(A Lazy Susan is a silver plate that spun on a base). For days
we looked for it but it couldn’t be found then one evening I was
awakened from my sleep by the familiar sound of the Lazy Susan
spinning from down in the basement. My sister and brother were
sound a sleep as were my parents so who was spinning my mothers
lost Lazy Susan? Frightened at the thought, I woke my mother from
her sleep and when we went to investigate, we found the Lazy Susan
spinning on its own on top of a box. As we approached the box, the
spinning became out of control until the Lazy Susan crashed to the
floor.
This wasn’t all that happened in that home, every night at the same
time our English Setter would bark at the couch when there was no
one on it and in the same room, the rocking chair would rock by itself
so violently it would tip itself over, which wasn’t an easy feat due to
it’s bulk weight.
One time I even saw the face of a young girl, perhaps nine or ten
years old, in one of our brand new cooking pots.
We moved shortly after that into the next haunted house, Two Valley
Road, also in Woburn. There was nothing unusual looking about Two
Valley Road, not from the outside anyway. The inside was different. It
wasn’t as spooky as 78 Washington St, the house at two Valley
Road’s main paranormal activity seemed to center on the second
floor.
Inside the Master Bedroom closet was a crawl space attic. Every time
the door was opened the person there would be rushed by whispers.
There seemed to be so many voices we couldn’t discern what was
being said. There were many incidents in this house that I could share
with you. From an odd sensation of being watched to an unsettling
event that occurred one evening while I was asleep in the bedroom I
shared with my sister. Around eleven o’clock that night I felt
something sit heavily upon the end of my bed and until it started
crawling up the mattress on my right hand side. At first I thought it
was my dog but then, when I looked, nothing was there, only an
indentation that resembled two pairs of human hands and knees. I
tried to call to my sister, but was too scared to speak. There was
something in my bed with me and it wasn’t human. When I finally
regained my voice and yelled out, I felt two strong hands seize my
shoulders and hold me down against my pillow. I distinctly remember
the impression of ten fingers against my flesh, yet there were no
hands there that could have been holding me.
Finally my sister turned on the light and the impression was
gone. Prior to the expiration of the lease my mother decided it was
time to move, but concerned that the house shouldn’t be left alone
while it was empty my sister volunteered to spend the remaining
nights with her sleeping on the floor. When my sister and mother
came home after not even completing the first nights stay, my sister
told me; she and my mother had shut all the windows and doors and
had just crawled under some blankets on the living room floor when a
door slammed shut upstairs. Suddenly neither she nor my mother
cared what happened to the house and went running for the car.
With the windows and doors all closed, what could have opened then
slammed the door closed upstairs? Where did the breeze come from?
The night air was dead outside and It would have taken a significant
force to jar the door open then slam it closed because all the doors
had a wide girth and when fully opened they touched the wall. We felt
totally unwelcome in that house from the day we moved in.
After our experiences in Woburn we never moved back to that town
again. We can’t even drive through it without feeling strange
vibrations as if we had made contact with something there that can
sense our presence when ever we return.
How can anyone explain what is unknown? The fourth dimension
is vast and unexplored. Some people say this realm of existence
should be left alone. But for me, I have crossed over. The dead
have come to me. They have made me their channel and in
return, they are my inspiration. I relay their messages and warnings. I
create the poems, songs and writings that they no longer can express
through their physical forms. I embrace them. I accept them. I help
them when they are troubled by their untimely deaths. My journey
started in 1997 while I was working in the Red Stone Shopping Plaza
in Stoneham, MA. As I was crossing over the guard rail that divided the store where I worked, from a fast food restaurant known as Kentucky Fried
Chicken, I suddenly found myself not in the parking lot where I
should have been, but in the woods standing over the body of a
dead woman. A flock of crows drew my attention to the sky and when
I looked back down at my feet I saw the woman was face down in the
dirt with a black cloth covering her head.
The cloth looked to be saturated in a dark liquid as Strands of red
hair were sticking out from the material. As I watched in horror, I saw
the woman raise her arm and with the index finger of her right hand
she wrote the letter “J” in the dirt. It was here that I felt a sharp pain
seize me throughout my head.
This woman suffered massive head trauma, I could feel it. When I
looked up I saw a dark metal instrument, which looked like a crow bar
or a fireplace poker come crashing down on me as if I were its victim.
At that moment, I began to panic and started to run. (Not realizing
I was back in the parking lot of the retail store where I worked.)
My pelvis struck hard against a parked vehicle and I woke to see I
had never been in the woods at all. Or was I?
Shaken and bewildered, I went inside my place of work not knowing
exactly what happened.
Was the body real? Or did I imagine it was there? Minutes later, a
co-worker came in and said the police were outside investigating
a body they found in the woods.
Two men in a semi-tractor trailer truck saw a girl running from the
woods.
I then announced to the co-worker that the girl they saw was me
and immediately I went out to the police to tell them what I saw.
I was so detailed in my description, the police officers questioned
me as if I were the killer and brought in a specialist in psychic
phenomenon to question me.
The man who questioned me was amazed at the accuracy of my
description. He asked me to return to the woods once the body
was removed to see if I picked up any more vibrations from the
victim.
It was here, after work, that I asked the dead woman to name her
killer. Shortly I heard the name “John” whispered in my ear. “John”
a female voice said “His name is John.” When I heard the name I
also felt sensations of love, then anger.
I sensed the man she named was the dead woman’s boyfriend I could
also tell she had been killed someplace else and her body was then
dropped off in the woods here.
The place I saw was an apartment. This woman had been killed in
some one’s apartment by a fire place. I called the police when I
got home and told them what I had experienced and at 6:00 it was
on the news that the killer had been found. His name was John,
the woman’s boy friend. When confronted by the police, he had
confessed to the crime. Since that unsettling day, the dead have been contacting me wherever I go. To me, they look like you or I, however, there is one
grave difference; the dead always lock eyes with my own as if they
are beckoning me with expressionless stares. The most interesting
thing I have noticed is the dead are not afraid to come straight up to
my face and stay awhile.
 
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