I have a real story from an extremely close and trusted friend. It's
about her grandson and a young girl, who was said to have been killed by her mother. It happened in an apartment house
in The Bronx.
The young girl was a tortured spirit. However, it had a
good ending.
-------------------------------------
I've experiance a few hauntings in my time. Stuff that can't be explained. Sometimes I wonder if it's a psychic
imprint, you know.
When I was a kid we had an old fishing resort my parents ran. I was raised there and lived in one of the hotel rooms,
my parents across the way. It was one of those buildings that had the sweet scent of History and age. That sweet,
pungent scent that comes from either dampness in the walls or maybe mold?
We had mostly loggers and tree planters staying in the off season (and revenue from the bar) and then tourists
in the summer months.
The man that owned it before us had died of a heart attack in the boiler room, right in the midst of closing up.
Over the years, afterwards, we would hear about how the guy insisted on checking all the rooms at night, before he closed
up. We had two sets of staircases facing each other. At the top of each one was eight rooms, four on
each side. The way the place was set up was the lobby in the middle, the restaurant on one side and the bar on the other
side, closest to the lake. Go through the lobby, and there was the book keeping room, and then in a seperate enclave
there were the stairs going up to the rooms.
Every night at the same time, the main keys would go missing and we could hear footsteps going up to the rooms. Clomp,
clomp, clomp as Mom did the books.
Many times, people sighted a man opening the door and peering in, only to come down and ask about it. When
they described him he was an exact description of the man in the picture, who had died so many years before.
There was complaints of parties happening in rooms that were uninhabitited, and it would fall silent as we approached.
When we'd open the door it would be empty and undisturbed.
We would hear more then one voice, too.
I wonder if they all party on the other side? Hmmmm.
Anyway, he stuck around the whole time we were there and I suspect a long time afterwards. He was no bother, though.
He was just protective over his building. He wanted everything to be alright and in running order. If it wasn't,
we'd get signs of discontent. LIke a drink sliding across the bar and falling on the floor, with invisible force.
How can I not believe in ghosts? I don't know whether they're 'conscious' or not, or if there's somehow a perfectly
good explanation......but I have experianced it first hand.
---------------------------------------------
.
