Did it Happen?
The human mind often struggles to define real, from surreal
I was working late one night in the supply room in the back of the National Guard Armory. I had worked many other late nights over the years, but this night turned out to be one I won't forget. It had been a busy day, partially because an auction company had been setting up for a weekend auction on the main floor. There were lots of interesting items, and many of them were antiques. Not long after supper, everyone had left the building. I went around and verified all the doors were locked as is standard procedure. Then I went back to my room to work again. I had been working for about 30 minutes, when I heard someone at the door to my supply room. Sometimes the handle would be a little tricky, and it wasn't uncommon for someone to jiggle the handle back and forth before figuring it out and opening it. It went on for several seconds, while I watched for someone to come in. It stopped, then started jiggling for a second round. I yelled, "Come In," but after another second of the knob twisting back and forth, I called back, "Just a second, I'll come get it." By the time I reached the door, the handle was no longer moving back and forth. I stepped into the main room and it was dark, and immediately I felt a cold chill that sent the hair up on my arms. I called out several times without answer. I did a quick search of all the rooms, and double checked that all the doors were locked. Everything was secure and no one was around. So, I went back in my room and called the only other soldier who was in town that would have a key, and I specifically called his home phone instead of his cell so I could verify his location. I asked if he had just been up here. He said know. I'm sitting here on my couch eating. That's strange, I said. He asked, what's strange. I said someone was just at my supply door, and when I opened it, there was nobody around.
Is it Paranormal or a Fictitious Story?
On a few occasions in my youth, I had gone to visit friends of the family who lived near the Twin Cities. As a matter of fact, I was there with my parents on the day they moved in. My parents were helping; I was just running around with their son exploring the new house. There had been an elderly man living there. His wife had died, and he had left many items around the house. And part of moving in, was moving some of his stuff out. Well, discovering these different items was very exciting for two young boys. It was a three-story house, and the stairway went up, had a landing, went up more stairs, had a landing, went up more stairs, and ended at the top floor. As we went up the stairs, the other boy tells me he has something really cool to show me. He stops by this door.
The door was not on the landing for the second or third floors, rather it was half way up. And maybe you could see the room from the outside, but from the inside, it would have been located on a "half" floor-if you get my jist. The boy opened the door and we ran in, for about a foot. This room was so filled with junk that you could hardly move. And it was a long room, going back as far as I could see, and without a light turned on, which apparently had a burned out bulb and could never be reached to be replaced (But there was one small window part way back to light things up a little bit) There were boxes, and newspapers, and glassware, and old pots and pans, and figurines and old radios, cameras. It was the playroom from Heaven. We climbed over boxes and looked for treasures. We slowly made our way further into the room. Then things began to change. At first, I felt uncomfortable. Like I was getting claustrophobic. We continued on, until I had to stop. I had the strangest feelings. It was like somebody was angry at me for being there, and yelling at me to get out, yet there were no words voiced. I looked over at the other boy and he had stopped too with a frightened look on his face. Without discussion, we hastily made our way back to the door. Near the main door, there was a half door that we assumed went into a small closet. As we stood by there, something clunked behind that door. That sent us running.
On one other occasion when I went there (Some items had been cleaned out of that room by his parents by this time), we went in the room. Our playful adrenaline and curiosity overriding our fears. We were now able to get at the short door (The light bulb still hadn't been replaced by the way). But we felt brave since it was so close to the main door and fairly well lit. We went to open the door, and the door slammed back shut on us. Again, followed by a strange noise immediately afterward. (Looking back on it, something had probably just fallen up against the door, then again, maybe it hadn't.) And again we ran. I haven't been back to that house since. I know our old family friends have long since moved, and I am not even sure if the house is there anymore. But I will say one thing. In the years of my youth, I had several dreams about that room, and also about what lie behind the short closet door, and the dreams were always dark, angry and threatening.
Whispered my name
I stayed overnight at a friend's house when in my early teens. On the main floor there was a long hallway that went toward the back of the house, where there was a laundry room, a guestroom and doors to the basement and back door. I had only been to the house that one time. It was in the evening, and we had stayed up late watching movies. We were going to sleep upstairs in my friend's room, but at the last minute, we decided to sleep in the living room. So we ran upstairs to his room to grab pillows and blankets. He had gone ahead of me, so I was a few seconds behind him when I came down the stairs. To give you a picture, when I got to the bottom of the stairs, the kitchen was on my left, the long hall went to my right, and the living room was straight ahead. I was headed for the living room. But in the 1.5 seconds it took me to cross that four feet of floor, my life had changed forever.
I am not sure why I glanced to my right down the long hall, but I did. And moving in the same direction as I, from wood paneling wall and into the door of the spare bedroom, was the thinly defined image of a woman, wrapped in a white mist. She moved at the same speed as I, and looked down the hallway right at me, as I looked at her - almost strikingly mirror like. And I would have expected my tired eyes were looking into a mirror at the end of the hall, had this image not whispered something to me. The word pulled the heat from my body, caused me to let out a short scream and got my feet moving at an incredible speed. She had whispered, "Russell." It gives me goose bumps even today when I think about it, and that was thirty years ago. After I told my friend, he went to the guest room and flipped on the lights, and found nothing of course. I only went down the hall far enough to look at the wall on the far side. There was no mirror, or window. Just wood paneling. It was the only time I ever stayed at his house.
On This Page
Whispered my Name
Came to Visit
Came to Visit
My Uncle and I built a cabin in Northern Minnesota over 20 years ago. In 2009, my son and I were up there on a brilliant fall weekend, enjoying the woods, scouting for deer and just soaking in the season. That Saturday morning, I had a heck of time getting the local radio station to come in (I like it so much I won't listen to anything else up there). I have never had a problem getting that station in over all the years I have been going up there. But on that day, it was constantly interrupted by static, coming in and out, though no one passed anywhere near it. In the past, it had been a sign that the batteries were dead (there is no electricity). So we grabbed light jackets, billfolds, locked the cabin and headed to town for batteries (Even though I have wonderful neighbors, I always lock the cabin). We turned off the end of the drive and were headed down the gravel road, when we drove through a large black mist that hovered in the road. I was like, hey did you see that? My son said he had noticed something. I said, that was really weird. But not so weird I was going to slam on the breaks or anything, so we just kept heading to town. We bought batteries at the local store and a few other things, then headed back. I pulled into the drive, and the hair immediately stood up on my arms. I sensed something out of place, although I hadn't noticed what yet. I got out of the Jeep and headed up the steps to the cabin. That's when I noticed the door to the cabin was standing wide open. I will repeat again. I have never left that door unlocked when leaving for town, and I specifically remembered locking it before we left not 30 minutes before. I walked inside and checked around, just in case it was a theft we were dealing with, but nothing was missing. My son and I stood there, he listening to me say for the tenth time in ten minutes, I know I locked that door. That is when I noticed something else. The radio was playing, and completely static free. I never did put the new batteries in that entire weekend, and not once did the station have static.