Ghost Stories - 3, 2, 1, Contact

I’ve mentioned before that I have three older sisters and two older brothers. The sisters shared a reasonably sized bedroom upstairs and my brothers and I shared a tiny bedroom on the first floor of our parent’s house. The “boy’s” room was large enough to hold two twin beds, a single chest of drawers and my roll-away cot—it was pre-aluminum, so it weighed a ton. That baby wasn’t rolling anywhere!

By the time I hit 12 only one sister was still living at home. She spent most of her time on campus. So my parents decided to move the three boys into the larger room upstairs and the sister down into the smaller room. There were pro’s and con’s for me from the move. On the pro side, I inherited an actual box spring and mattress and now had a little privacy. On the con side, I had to go up and down the stairs in the dark because the hall light could only be turned on/off from downstairs AND I had seen a ghost up there when I was younger!!! My bed had no headboard and butted up against a small door that led to a storage area in the eaves of the house. That creeped me out a little at first, but in time the new room became home and I settled in.

For the first year or so nothing interesting happened. The room was hot in the summer and freezing in the winter. I got to be good at finding my dad’s old army blankets in the dark and also at getting into my bed quickly—we used tee-shirts as pajamas, so speed was essential in the cold. {My wife says I “tuck and roll” when I get into bed.} Anyway, one freezing night I went through my usual bedtime routine. I turned off the bedroom light; made the mad dash to my bed and dove under the covers…hoping it would warm up quickly. As I laid there, teeth chattering, I very clearly heard a woman’s voice say, “Oh Rick”…like a playful scold! For a moment I experienced a different sort of “freezing” and then just as suddenly the bed went from ice cold to burning hot. I wanted to stay under the covers, but I had to get up. The bed was just too hot! I turned on the light, looked around, nothing…I was alone in the room. Very weird!

For about another 18 months nothing happened. Then one night as I was getting ready for bed I noticed a magazine sticking out from under my oldest brother’s mattress. I decided to investigate…I think it was Architectural Digest. ;o) I sat on my brother’s bed for a while flipping through the publication and then went to bed. As I tossed and turned trying to get to sleep (it was hot), I realized there was a sound coming from the direction of my brother’s bed. I stopped to listen more closely and I recognized it. It was the sound of magazine pages being turned, one-by-one. I’d forgotten to put my brother’s magazine away and, apparently, someone was checking it out. I assumed my brother was playing a prank to teach me a lesson. I jumped out of bed and turned on the light. But as before, I was alone in the room…except this time there was an open magazine on my brother’s bed. I didn’t know whether to laugh or worry.

After the magazine incident, things were quiet for years. My brothers moved out and got married. I got engaged to my wife and we planned to marry after I finished school. We ended up getting married earlier because of her mom’s health. Since I was still in school (and working) I told my folks we were going to live with them for a while. My father didn't want us to live there, but we did it anyway! I painted, put down rugs, and moved in our furniture (her parent’s 1st bedroom set). Until we were married I continued to sleep in my old twin bed—I had shoved it into a corner. One night I was lying in bed watching the new, lacey curtains blowing in the night air. Suddenly, it felt like hands had grabbed my ankles. Next thing I knew I was being pulled by my ankles towards the bottom of the bed. Without even thinking about it, I started saying the Lord’s Prayer out loud and digging my elbows into the mattress. Whatever it was stopped and I was left there, propped up on my elbows, with my feet dangling over the edge of the bed. My dad turned on the hall light and called upstairs to ask why I had been yelling the Lord’s Prayer. I told him I was fine. He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. I never did. I didn’t tell my wife then either—she never would have moved in. Fortunately during the time we lived there her only experience with the ghost was to hear what she described as an eerie laugh one night while I slept.

If the ghost did grab my ankles, was it playing one last prank before going quiet (for my wife’s sake)? Did she not like the furniture being moved? Or (my favorite theory) did she not want her youngest, sweetest little grandson to get married??? Hahaha!

Did my grandmother take up residence in my parent’s house after she passed away? Don’t judge by this one story. Please go back and read the others (starting with “The Invitation”) before making up your mind. I have one more odd story, but it doesn’t involve my grandmother or my parent’s house. It’s about the way in which I think my mom said goodbye to me the night she passed away.