May 8, 2017 12:40 pm
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Hello my friends,

Hope all is well with everyone. I would like to take the time to wish all of my readers’ a safe and beautiful Happy Mother’s Day. With that being said, I have decided to share my very first Paranormal experience with everyone. Please allow me to explain why: you see last month while doing a radio interview a mom called in and asked: “what should she do if her child told her they saw ghosts”? My answer to her and anyone else who run into such situation is first and foremost; please believe your child. Yes, I realize some children have an amazing imagination. However, you can always separate fact from fiction later.

Although my dear mother is no longer with us, I am grateful for her believing in me when I told her about the “man in the boys’ room, as you will see in my story. As always, feel free to contact with questions/comments. Please forgive me for the length.

Peace and Luv to All

The House on Joppa Farm Road 

Do you believe in ghost? Sometimes called an Apparition? A spirit, or image of someone who has died and reappeared, but not always seen by everyone. Or, perhaps you just enjoy hearing stories about the afterlife. Especially the kind that leaves you thinking was it fact or fiction. Well, what I’m about to tell isn’t fiction at all. It is all facts; I know this because I experienced it when I was about seven years of age.

My family didn’t have much money when I was growing up. Our mother was a single parent of ten children.Although a couple of my older siblings had moved out on their own, there were still six of us left for her to raise all alone. She often struggled to pay the bills. When she could no longer afford to pay the rent where we lived, she packed up everything we owned, and we moved in with my oldest sister Ann, her husband Joe, and their children.

It was an old house, with lots of windows, and a huge backyard, which was perfect for all of us kids to run around and play in.The exterior of the house was pink and white with some of the color peeling away. But it had become our home, and we were happy to be there.

My sister and her husband had rented the house from a friend of theirs for a price which fit their budget. When they had first moved into the house, they had noticed one of the bedrooms upstairs had a lock on its door. Thinking of the safety of their small children, they decided to remove the entire door. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary inside of the room. It was empty except a small piece of carpet and a hole in the wall. Once my family joined them in the home, that bedroom would become the very place where my brothers would be sleeping. It was considered “the back bedroom.” Our mom and us girls shared the bedroom which was right before you would enter the “back bedroom.” It was sometimes a bit crowded, but we made it work.

No one ever questioned why the room had a lock on the door, even though the property was vacant. Little did we know we were about to become acutely aware of the terrifying reason why it should’ve been left undisturbed!

Everyone got along well with our new living arrangements. We helped out with the younger kids and was anxiously waiting for my sister to give birth to her last child. The house had two levels. Therefore my mom tried her best to keep us in our living area as much as possible when it was television time. I didn’t like the house from the moment I  had first laid eyes on it. I would often get such an eerie feeling as though something wasn’t quite right. You know, the kind of feeling you sometimes experience when you thought someone had whispered your name but you’re home alone? Or maybe you’re almost positive that you just saw someone or something run past you, or see a shadow coming down your stairs, and you’re saying to yourself,” this isn’t real.” You can hear your heart starting to pound almost out of your chest, in an instant, you realize you’re just letting your imagination get the best of you. Well, unfortunately, it wasn’t my imagination.

I would be the first one to return home from school.  My daily routine would be to come home, change out of my school clothes, get a snack, do homework, and go upstairs and watch television or play with my dolls.

I would pretend to serve them tea, and cookies while sitting on the floor. However, this particular day would be unlike the others. As I sat on the floor playing with my dolls, I heard someone calling me by my first name. ”Gwen,” they were saying. Feeling a little puzzled because I thought all of my brothers were either at work or school I just decided to ignore it, thinking it was all in my mind. So, I continued with my playtime, but I heard it again. This time it would be louder, a little dragged out, and it sounds sad.” Gween”, the voice said. It was clearly a man’s voice. Not a voice which I could recognize, so I knew it was a stranger. But what is a stranger doing upstairs in our house?

I didn’t know how to react. Therefore I stood up and slowly turned around.

At that very moment, I became speechless. What I saw was a man whom I had never seen before in my young life walking towards me in a stiff, jerky motion.

His skin was ashy in color, his eyes were black as coal, without any white showing. I don’t remember what he was wearing because my attention was solely focused on his terrifying lifeless face.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. All of a sudden I tasted something very salty.The next thing I could remember happening is hearing my mother’s voice saying, ’Gwen what’s wrong? Why are you screaming, and why is your nose bleeding?

Once she was able to calm me down, my mom asked me to tell her what exactly had gotten me so upset? I took in a deep breath and started to explain what I had just seen in my brothers’ bedroom.

At first, I wasn’t sure if she even believed what I was saying because she had this look of confusion on her face. After a few minutes of silence, she asked me again to tell her what I had seen. ” You saw what?! I repeated my story to her. “I just saw a strange man in the boys’ bedroom.” At this point, she could see I was genuinely frightened and upset. My mom then took me by the hand, and we both went downstairs to join my sister and her younger children in another part of the house. We shared my encounter with the rest of the family that evening. However, they weren’t quite ready to believe there may be someone else other than our family living in our home.

After what had happened that day I no longer wanted to play upstairs alone after school. I started having nightmares, and my nosebleeds had become more frequent. I was no longer happy in our house like I use to be. Everything about it would creep me out. The doors would open all by themselves, and the floors would creak although there would be no one walking on them at the time. Oh yeah, and when the wind would blow through the cracks of the windows and doors, instead of the usual whistling sound that the wind makes, it would make a slow achy moaning sound as if someone were in an eternal state of pain. One day my brother abruptly called me upstairs to show me something he had found in the bathroom. When I looked into the toilet before he flushed it, was a spider floating around inside which to this day I am pretty sure was a tarantula! I ran out of there as fast as my feet could go, and never looked back.

My first thought was “did that man in the back bedroom put the spider in the toilet to scare us? Well, no matter how it got there I knew I wasn’t ever going to use that bathroom again.

My happiness was fading away more and more with each passing day. I refused to be left alone. I had to have someone with me at all times. I am sure it was a bit annoying to my family having to escort me around the house, but they complied with my wishes. Our encounters with the “sad man “ weren’t over.

It was a hot summer night; we had a very intense thunderstorm. The flashes of lightning would light up our bedroom. The roar of the thunder made the entire house shake. You could hear tree branches scratching on the window panes. Ignoring the heat, I decided to pull the blanket over my head in hopes to fall asleep faster.

All of a sudden I was awakened by a loud crack of thunder! As I sat up, I noticed the room was lit up from the lightening. As my eyes were coming into focus, I wasn’t quite prepared for what I would see standing in the doorway of my brother’s bedroom. There he stood once again. The strange man whom I’d seen that day after school. Not only was he calling my name again, but he was also pointing at me. I didn’t know what he’d wanted and to be honest, I didn’t care. I was worried for my brothers who were actually in the same room with him, and for us girls. I turned and shook our mom as hard as I could until she woke up. She raised up to see what was going on; without speaking a word, she simultaneously turned on our bedroom light and sat up in the bed. Once the lights came on, he was no longer there. I am unsure if my mom saw him standing there, however, in an instant, she jumped out of bed, went into my brother’s bedroom, woke them up, and had them sleep on blankets in our room for rest of the night. She then hung a blanket temporarily over the “backroom” doorway. The next day it was decided the bedroom door would be replaced and no one would be allowed to go inside of that room.

My family no longer felt safe living in this house which we all shared. My sister Ann and her husband found another place to live, and we did as well.

A few years after we had moved out, the house had gotten demolished, and a new home now sits its place.

As an adult, I learned the identity of the stranger in the “back bedroom’. Apparently, he was a relative of the people who rented the house to my sister. For reasons unknown to me, he had committed suicide in that very room which had deemed unsafe to enter when my sister and her family had first moved into the home. My brother, Jimmie told us that he and others would often see the “sad man” looking out of the upstairs window, while they would be outside. My sister has also informed me that he had visited her on numerous occasions. She said he never frightened her on their encounters; he appeared as a young man, who seemed to be very troubled. You see they both shared a brain disorder called “hydrocephalus,” also known as “water or fluid on the brain.” Perhaps this why they had had a special bond. The memory of connecting with him haunt my family to this very day.  I often wonder what happened to that man since his home has been torn down? Has his spirit finally been set free? Or is he now trapped in a new room, still waiting for someone to help release him from his pain? Whatever the answer may be, I will never forget my experience at “The House on Joppa Farm Road.”

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This post was written by maria3940