I decided to write about a few creepy, unexplained interactions I’ve had in the past. These three stories stick well in my mind and probably always will.
1: Old Cemetery Jitters
I was walking with Lint at a local public school; it was dark and very late. We were at a mutual friend’s birthday party, and of course the agenda was to go down to the local cemetery and then hang out at the public school. Lint and I were talking about the usual things an eight grader talks about – boys and makeup. This public school has stairs leading to the field where all the kids play during the day, and we were right at the top of the stairs when we saw something move at the bottom. It was a dark figure, standing directly below us. We could see it, although it didn’t appear to be so solid…it was more like a shadow. We got that weird, icy cold feeling – as though someone had just poured a bucket of water on the tops of our heads, and seconds later, we saw the figure chuck something at us. We could hear it being thrown and flying through the air, but we ran before whatever it was could hit us.
There were guys at this party, and we forced them to go and investigate to see if anyone was down there…because we definitely saw someone down there. That’s when one of the girls who lived in the town all her life told us that the public school and the housing around it was actually built on the old cemetery grounds. They moved the gravestones to the new cemetery but left the bodies.
I did my own research online when I got home…and it turned out to be true, only the school and the housing weren’t built on top of the old cemetery…but the playground was. The same steps that led the way to the tiny old cemetery now lead the way down to the playground.
There are still bodies buried there, without their gravemarkers. I guess that would piss me off too, if I were a spirit – imagine having someone remove your grave marker and take it to a new location and just forget about your body?
Truthfully, that public school still freaks me out even more so than the actual new cemetery. I can visit the new cemetery late at night and not be half as freaked out as visiting the public school…
2. Don’t Fall Asleep With Your Light On
The following unexplained event happened to me a couple of months after my Nana passed away from cancer. Anyone who knows me knows that I love to read, and also that I can’t sleep with the lights on. I’ve never been one to be afraid of the dark, and I can never fall asleep with my lights on – usually anyway.
On this particular night, I must have. There is no other way to explain it. I was out cold, and wouldn’t have awoken for anything in the solid world. I had been having trouble sleeping for several weeks, and the weight of that exhaustion pressed down on me until even I couldn’t wake myself up. Normally, I am very good at waking myself up. I’ve always been a light sleeper and I can hear every noise that is made throughout the house. If it seems like an odd noise, I wake up.
Anyways, my dream was very bright. There was no darkness anywhere, but it was so bright that I could barely see the figure in front of me…but I knew it was my Nana. I could just make out her auburn hair. Another gave away was her voice, she was talking to me.
Wake up, she was whispering. I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. Her whispers got more urgent and finally she moved forward and started shaking me awake. As soon as she touched me, I woke up. My light was on, but it was on the floor, the lamp shade must have popped off when it fell. The light bulb was burning a hole in the carpet, and it smelt terrible.
As I picked up my light and lamp shade, I thought about the strangeness of what had just happened to me. For one, my light is always at the very back of my night table, so even if I had knocked it in my sleep…it was unlikely that it would have fallen off the table. I would have felt myself hit it too, as I’m normally such a light sleeper.
It was just weird…I normally don’t have vivid dreams like that. My dreams are usually dark, and I always wake myself up trying to see more of whatever it is I’m dreaming of. This dream was so bright it was blinding, and I could still see the brightness even while awake.
One thing is for sure, I’m glad I woke up. That could have been disastrous.
3. Haunted by a Dog
Morgan was McShout’s golden retriever. My parents brought him home while she was at my grandparents house, and surprised her when she got home. Morgan was everything a golden retriever normally is – gorgeous, friendly, loyal, hilarious, and happy. I wouldn’t say he was dim witted, but he wasn’t exactly the smartest dog around…after all, playing chicken with cars isn’t very smart.
In any case, we all loved Morgan, and it shattered all of our hearts when he was hit by a car. Morgan was a little over a year old, still very much a puppy, and he liked to play chicken with cars – like I mentioned earlier. He was normally very good at playing chicken, but he never really saw a car with a trailer attached to the back before. The car missed him, but the trailer hit him head on.
Our neighbour was behind the car pulling the trailer that hit Morgan, and he helped the man move Morgan’s body off the road and onto our front lawn. He came home and called our house. McShout answered, and he told McShout that Morgan was at the end of the driveway, and that he had just been hit by a car so we should probably call our parents. McShout was still very young – I think she was about twelve or thirteen – and before we could stop her she was running out of the house crying and down the driveway.
McMouth and I followed her, but she got to Morgan before we could stop her. She thought he might still be alive, but he wasn’t. His beautiful big brown eyes were empty and cold instead of sparkling and warm. His jaw looked broken and hung in an unnatural way, and his poor tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth. He was bleeding from somewhere, I didn’t look long enough to see where. McMouth and I half dragged, half carried our little sister home and called our dad.
A couple weeks later, I was walking down the hall past McShout’s bedroom. The door was open and I could hear a noise coming from that direction, even though McShout was at her friend’s house. Naturally, I looked into the room as I walked by, and had to back up. I saw Morgan, laying on McShout’s bed chewing on his toy and wagging his tail. He was looking at me with his warm, sparkling big brown eyes. When I backed up though, McShout’s bed was empty and there was no sign of even the toy Morgan had been chewing on.
It was strange though, because when Morgan was alive I would often walk past McShout’s room and catch him on the bed, chewing some toy and wagging his tale…