Paranormal Factor

This past February I had a strange and somewhat terrifying experience in room 202 at the Little River Casino in Manistee, Michigan. In the suite was my brother and his wife, me and my children ages 8 and 9. I awoke around 3:30 in the morning to the sensation of a pressure on my side, kind of pushing me down. I thought it might be one of my daughters pushing me down. I raised my arm out to try to push off whatever was on top of me. I felt something substantial, but definitely not either one of my kids. It was at that time I began to get frightened. I was laying on my side so I turned my head to my right shoulder to get a glimpse of what was on top of me. It was at that time that I saw a large dark funnel of no substantial shape. I heard a mocking laugh. I struggled, to no avail. I decided to let the entity know that they should get off of me in the name of Jesus Christ. The funnel suddenly hit the ceiling and disappeared.

There I was; very frightened, hoping it was a dream. I decided to switch sides on the bed. I woke nobody up, as I felt like my sister-in-law would think I was nuts and I didn’t want to scare my kids. So I tried going back to sleep. This is when I felt hands all over the front of me, pushing and pulling. I knew I was sleeping when the second attack began as the sensations began to wake me up. I began to cry out, and this woke my sister-in-law. She said she looked over at me in bed and saw that I had a dark figure over me with it’s “arms” wrapped around me. My brother then heard my cry, turned on the light and asked me if I was okay. I told him that I was definitely not okay. My sister-in-law told my brother what I saw, and I told him what I experienced. Unfortunately, we were looking at another night in the same room already paid for. Thus, I didn’t sleep and basically played “night watchmen”. I was ready with my camera should the entity return. The only thing that happened was my daughter was crying in her sleep and I could see nothing bothering her from my viewpoint.

I would like to clarify I was on no medications, had not drunk any alcohol during this trip. This was the scariest thing to ever happen to me, and because of what my sister-in-law witnessed as I cried out leads me to believe it may be paranormal. My concern is, will other people suffer this same malady in that room? I definitely believe it was malevolent. Another question I am left with is, is this the attack from a “shadow person”? My best friend told me I should have asked for a different room. I was too worried the staff would think I was crazy! The Little River Casino is a somewhat new casino, and I am not aware of any history with the place.

When I moved into my new home, I felt secure and got absolutely no bad vibes. I still don’t. I had merely experienced the usual things that people do when they can’t find something. Many times in my life, my family would joke that, “The ghost must have moved it” we would all laugh when we found the object in some place that we had forgotten laying it down at.

So many times strange moving objects result from people moving them and not remembering or not telling the other person where they moved it to. This happens all the time. It is not mysterious, it is not unusual, it is just stuff getting misplaced.

One day, I was looking into the kitchen from my office desk and talking to my daughter and sister-in-law. I happened to notice that my keys were dangerously close to the edge of the counter. No big deal, keys aren’t breakable. I decided to monitor them so that at the right moment I could pick them off the floor.

As fate would have it, my daughter and sister-in-law turned their backs from the counter and looked out the window. That is when I saw the keys move back onto the counter. Nobody witnessed it but me, so of course, it becomes a story (I take this from Grant and Jason’s perspective on Ghost Hunters. If nobody witnessed it but you, or you do not have it on film it becomes just a story — but this is a forum for stories). It seems trifling really. It wasn’t a human that moved the keys back. I do agree, it was rather thoughtful of the unseen entity or entities, at least I didn’t have to get up from my desk and pick them up!

Idlewild, Michigan is a very beautiful area with a rich past. Nestled within Lake County in  Michigan, it was a resort community for African Americans during the period of segregation; and  many famous and influential people spent their time there. Famous actresses of the likes of  Aretha Franklin performed there. I hear stories that when segregation ended, so did the high  period of Idlewild. They abandoned their resort homes in some cases. An area so steeped in  history surely has to have left a mark on those that were there. I now have cause to believe  that some of the Idlewilders never left.

My dad purchased a vacation home fixer upper in Idlewild, Michigan; within Cherry Valley  Township. We had quite a bit of work to do on the home, it was built in the thirties or forties.  It had been abandoned since around the seventies. There were some unusual things there. I found  old furniture, a pull out bed with a storage and several old, musty handmade quilts inside.  There were very old canned goods in the cupboards, layers of very old wallpaper; and rotted  walls and ceilings. I found literature on Dr. Martin Luther King circa the time period he was  speaking in. Next door were two other abandoned homes which were so broken down there were no  doors or windows. In one home there was cans of food in the cupboard even though the house was  falling apart around the cupboards. In another home there were forgotten photographs of those  that once spent time there. A forgotten lady in a dress, a little girl having a birthday party;  a mother and her son.

The house we bought was touched by tragedy. We had found out from a neighbor that the lady that  last lived there was wheelchair bound, and there was evidence of this in the front yard; where a  rotted wooden wheelchair ramp led the way to the door. We tore it down; it was of no use. We  also found out that she went fishing one day and drowned. We learned nothing more. As I looked  around at our new vacation property, I couldn’t help but see the old Idlewild in it. The piles  of fourties, fifties, and sixties glassware in the back yard told of the good times of Idlewild.  I imagined fresh paint on the houses, music and joy coming from the homes; but it was eclipsed  by a kind of sullen sadness. It was, afterall; forgotten.

I have to admit, when we began working on our project; I was very overwhelmed. I was also very  creeped out. It was very strange to be there. It felt like I didn’t belong. That was the  distinct feeling I got. One night, as I and my toddler daughters were in bed; I heard a thumping  noise that lead me to believe that my oldest daughter had gotten out of bed. I sat up to see a  black shape rushing out of the room It was about the height of my daughter. I heard footsteps  rushing away. I was so sure it was her, I began to move out of bed to run her down. That was  when I noticed that both of my daughters were still in bed. I was very alarmed, but not  surprised. I had received some strange vibes from the place.

I also had a chocalate lab by the name of Cocoa. When I stayed at the home by myself with my  children, I shut the door to my room. There was something about the doorway with a view to the  living room that I didn’t like. Many times, Cocoa would fall asleep on the couch in the living  room and I would let her stay there. The home was so far in the woods, I worried that someone  may break in. Many times I wondered why I stayed there alone with my two small children. I think  it was because the days were so wonderful. Every night that Cocoa stayed in the living room  alone, I would awaken to her barking. I could here her running in circles as she barked. Many  times, she was so frightened she had an accident.

One time, my fathers girlfriend was alone in my room while my father was hunting. It was night  and she had left the door open. I never did. I don’t know why but I always felt like something  was watching me. She heard footsteps, and thinking it was my father; she looked up to the  doorway. She then claimed that she seen a tall African American man standing in the doorway. He  was misty in appearance. He did not seem to notice her, and faded away. Another time when she  and my father were staying at the cabin, she seen a ghost walking towards the bathroom.

Recently, I have stayed at the cabin again with my daughters. One night around 3 a.m. as I lay  in bed, and suddenly felt that strange feeling again. I then felt cold all over. I then felt the  blankets lift off of my feet. I slept with the light on after that. Every time I stay there, I  here footsteps in the living room. Though very eerie, I have not felt threatened by the  presence, and I even apologize to it for the drastic changes in the home that may be confusing  my unseen friends.

Despite the strangeness of these experiences, I return to Idlewild and to the cabin often. What  a fascinating, historic place. Definitely worth visiting to see a ghost or two; even if Idlewild  is just a ghost of what it once was.

When I was a child, I spent a great deal of time with my grandfather listening to his stories. My parents and I lived with my grandparents for a time. He was a very wise man. Because of a lung ailment, he was bedridden most of the time that I knew him. In between the gasps and coughs, we would discuss everything. We would talk about books, movies, numbers and especially crosswords. Crosswords were his favorite thing.

The smell of Nyquil and candy was always in the air, and my grandfather had plenty of both. He called me his little scholar. He would utter his throaty cough and laugh at the things I said and did.

I understand he was not always the easiest man to have as a parent, but he was wonderful to me. I remember when he got so sick that they took him to the hospital. He always said, “If I go to the hospital I will never come back alive”. As the ambulance attendants carried him away on the stretch he looked at me with those blue eyes and smiled. I never seen him alive after that. He died of sepsis the following morning at the hospital.

A short time later, I was being babysat by my best friend’s mother while my family was away. I decided to go back into the house to get something I had forgotten. I went to the kitchen. For some unknown reason, fear gripped me. I did not want to turn to the right and into my grandparent’s room. I somehow knew I would see my grandfather there. I chose not to look. I don’t know what I was afraid of, surely the spirit of my grandfather wouldn’t hurt me. I heard a faint coughing sound.

As I did not turn to look, I felt safer. Surely I had been hearing things. I went to use the bathroom. I shut the door.

It was at that time I heard a shuffling noise. In life, my grandfather had walked very slow. I heard another faint cough. I froze, finishing up my business in fear. Before I could get up, the bathroom door slowly opened. It creaked in the exact manner it did when my grandfather was alive. He didn’t have much strength and so he couldn’t just throw open a door. At that point, I had no doubt that I was being visited by my grandfather. However, I was in no way ready.

I bolted out the door, arrived in the empty dining room and ran to the living room. Out the front door and onto the porch I flew. I soon was running down the street for my friend’s house. From that time until the old house was finally sold, I never looked to the right towards that bedroom. Not ever.

When I told this story to my father, he laughed at me and said, “Your grandfather wouldn’t have hurt you.” Tell that to a nervous twelve year old.

Our house is surrounded by woods. At night it is very quiet, a slightly creepy. During the fall, the moon is so bright in the sky on most nights that you barely need the outdoor light. The air is fresh and clean. We live on top of hill by a large lake. Since the summer months have ended, things are very quiet.

My sister-in-law was outside walking the dog at about 2:00 a.m. All of the sudden I heard a frantic barking from our larger dog. She came back into the house looking upset. She said that she seen a large dark shape that hissed at her in the woods. It sounded like a cat, but it was too large for that.

The dark shape ran from a neighbor’s lawn into the woods. She said she could tell it was relatively large from the sound that it made in the woods, much too large for a cat. I pretty well figured that maybe she had seen another type of animal, but I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why it would make a hissing noise.

So, I decided to investigate. I went outside by my bedroom window. All was dark and silent on that side of the house. Suddenly, our large dog began to fuss. He looked scared. It didn’t take me long to get back into the house and lock the doors. We have had trouble in the past with a young man that lives on the corner. He would harrass our windows late at night, and committ other acts of mischief. Fortunately, we caught him red handed so I know it wasn’t him.

When I moved into my new home, I felt secure and got absolutely no bad vibes. I still don’t. I had merely experienced the usual things that people do when they can’t find something. Many times in my life, my family would joke that, “The ghost must have moved it” we would all laugh when we found the object in some place that we had forgotten laying it down at.

So many times strange moving objects result from people moving them and not remembering or not telling the other person where they moved it to. This happens all the time. It is not mysterious, it is not unusual, it is just stuff getting misplaced.

One day, I was looking into the kitchen from my office desk and talking to my daughter and sister-in-law. I happened to notice that my keys were dangerously close to the edge of the counter. No big deal, keys aren’t breakable. I decided to monitor them so that at the right moment I could pick them off the floor.

As fate would have it, my daughter and sister-in-law turned their backs from the counter and looked out the window. That is when I saw the keys move back onto the counter. Nobody witnessed it but me, so of course, it becomes a story (I take this from Grant and Jason’s perspective on Ghost Hunters. If nobody witnessed it but you, or you do not have it on film it becomes just a story — but this is a forum for stories). It seems trifling really. It wasn’t a human that moved the keys back. I do agree, it was rather thoughtful of the unseen entity or entities, at least I didn’t have to get up from my desk and pick them up!

Most everyone recieves items passed down through family members, tokens or trinkets with no monetary value except sentimental ones.  My mother inherited items from her grandmother, many of them had been lost or damaged through natural disasters and moving.  One item I recall was a paticularly ugly glass butter dish.  It was cream colored with pea green vines up the sides and along the base; comprised of a flat base and rectangular lid.  It had withstood many years and had always stood upon the kitchen counter used often for exactly the purpose it was intended.

I was in charge of dishes after every meal.  And one particular evening I accidentally dropped and broke the lid in several pieces.  My father tried to glue it back together but it just wouldn’t take the gluing and eventually it had been thrown away to the dismay of my mother who valued every piece she received from her grandmother.  I felt horrible about breaking it, it wasn’t on purpose, just one of those accidents that make you feel utterly worthless to do anything about except apologize for.

Weeks went by and my duties had not changed after every meal.  I stood at the sink with my hands in the hot, soapy water and emptied the sink and refilled it several times clearing the dirty dishes from the counter putting them now clean into the drainer.  I finally got through the heap and had only a few pans left to wash when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a flash of sunlight on glass.  I turned my head toward the twinkling and found the butter dish that I had broken, which had been thrown out several weeks before, standing in its regular spot on the counter.  I frantically called for my mother, who was not one to see things as anything but coincidental.

She examined it finding no cracks or broken spots on it at all, and dismissed it at once with a look at me, almost as if I had been playing tricks on her, which I most assuredly had not.  I was frightened and had quite a hard time after that doing my kitchen duties.  Every time I entered the kitchen my eyes would automatically return to the butter dish, almost wishing it to be gone.

My little brother said something strange to me that next day during dinner.  It was out of the blue and so innocent that I didn’t know whether I should have been afraid or intrigued.  We were always the last at the table, our parents always left after eating to sit in the living room and watch television.  I recall him turning to me and saying with a look on his face as if he was hearing and repeating something said to him that only he could hear.  He said, “Grandma is glad we are using the butter dish.”  And that was it.  I waited for him to say more before I spoke but he just went back to eating.

He offered to help me with dishes afterward because he wanted badly to play Monopoly before our bedtime.  I asked him how he knew that grandma was glad about the butter dish and he shrugged and pointed toward the basement doorway.  The basement was one place I feared more than any other in the house, it was dark and wet and smelled like rotted earth.  I looked toward where he pointed and saw nothing, and when I looked again at his face he had a smile and was looking toward the basement dooway.  He wasn’t a vindictive child or prone to stories, again it was an innocent gesture and glance, but it frightened me immensely.

I still cannot explain how the dish had gotten back into the house after being discarded and then taken to the dump, which I am sure it had since the garbage was collected once a week and this had been several weeks since the accidental breaking of the butter dish.  Nor do I have any reasoning for the things my brother said to me or the way he looked toward the basement doorway.

No one ever spoke of the butter dish turning back up fixed as if I hadn’t broken it after all.  As with many other occurrences that happened over the years it seemed to all be in my imagination when I absolutely knew that it was not.

I remember, back when I was a teenager, how difficult it was to get most of my school friends to come to my house for any longer than just in and out.  Their trepidation stemmed from weird occurrences that were common to me but intently frightening to them.

This is one experience I recall when a friend I will call “C” had decided to forgo the strange within my house and actually spend the night.  My parents had gone out for the night leaving her and I in charge of my younger brother and several foster and adopted kids who lived with us at the time.  It was 11 pm and everyone but her and I were in bed fast asleep.  I remember we were sitting at the dining room table playing a game of Rummy, all of the lights were blazing; as I always insisted on them being, and the room was quiet except for our occasional banter about the game. 

Midnight chimed on the grandfather clock in the livingroom and just as the twelfth chime rang a picture of my older brother, who lived elsewhere, flew off the top shelf behind us and landed hard against the old phonograph/eight track cabinet across the room.  The picture had soared over our heads and we both were instantly startled as the radio in the cabinet began to play, switching stations with an eerie static. It was one of the kind that had to be switched from radio to eight track to phonograph with a toggle-like switch inside a heavy lid that concealed the players and radio within.  This was the first time something like this had happened, mostly it was just things disappearing or phantom shadows that only I laid witness to.

Both of us were severely frightened by this. Although I had encountered other strange happenings, my friend ‘C’ had no idea about the things that just seemed to go on in my house.  (And shame on me if I had purposefully withheld that information in the hopes that nothing would happen while she was there, I was only 13 at the time.) Of course, I had told the stories but she had dismissed them as my imagination.
I begged her not to call her dad to go home, and it took much finesse to calm her down.  Finally, she consented to stay the rest of the night and nothing else happened, thankfully.

The following morning my mother called us to breakfast and we overheard her talking to my father about the midnight arrest of my brother; the one whose picture sailed across the room and caused the radio to eerily play on its own.  My friend and I exchanged glances.  I decided to divulge the previous night’s happenings to my parents and I don’t really think they believed me.

I haven’t talked to ‘C’ in many, many years, and I wonder if she remembers this occurrence?  From that day on not one of my friends from school would come to my house except one, my friend Patti who lived across the alley. Patti was the only fearless friend I had, and still have today.  Seems like we have had more than enough of our share of hauntings over the span of our lives.  Maybe that is why our friendship has lasted all these years; because we share a link with some otherworldly realm that has reached out to us over and over as we grew up. 
              

Heir of the Wolf, a novel by Lisa Dennis and Patricia Arnold is set for Re-Release next year. The authors claim that when they released the book last year, they were rushing for a deadline. Now, they are taking their time and including every little detail so that readers will have more to enjoy. To entice readers, they are including exerpts of the book (the prologue is available now, on their website). They will also be blogging about their creative process, including a scrapbook of early ideas and some of Patricia Arnold’s illustrations from the book. Visitors to the blog will be able to comment, share ideas and be able to read parts of the story. They will also be able to learn more about the characters. What a great free read for Halloween! Readers will also receive updates on the project and when the unabridged version of Heir of the Wolf: Dark Legacy will be avaible. They may also receive a sneak peek into what will occur in the sequel!

Here is a Synopsis: Unknown visions, unseen visitors in the night, a dark creeping terror that carries the breath of either gruesome death or half-life. A family plunged into the darkness with no way out. Time has passed and no person born into the family is immune, no one skipped or found unworthy of the dark gift; especially the women, luscious and verile, they become the thralls, the first to take the change.

Those who cross the power of the beast get brutally ravaged; violent visages of blood and gore, sometimes never to be found. The blood may be the only key to escaping what awaits, it walks among the ones it wishes, kills those not of pure blood and easily picks the parasites out of the family line.
It surpasses time and history, neither born or bidden into the wasted centuries that have passed. Its memory is that of time immemorial. Hunger and the need to find a true companion are all that drives the beast. The family are cursed to be the harbingers of this pure darkness.

So visit the website and stir up some fear!

I once worked with adults who were mentally and physically disabled. Many of my shifts were at Garrett Home (name changed for confidentiality). Garrett home had once been the home of the Garrett family, and had been built in 1866. It was a large white victorian, it had a quaint cottage in the back, a barn and a screened in porch.

The house was right on the highway, not very isolated; but Garrett Home had a life all of it’s own seperate from the busy road it resided on. Many of the residents of Garrett Home were prone to fits of rages, which they did not display much of once they left Garrett Home to move into their own respective apartments or duplexes.

Garrett Home had an attic upstairs, one of those old fashioned ones with the tiny door. Often the attic light would come on for no reason. Sometimes when I left at 12:45 in the morning, I would look up to see the attic light on. I would let the other staff know, and they claimed they did not leave it on either.

The home had a wide spiral staircase. I can’t tell you how many times I dreaded walking down those stairs, it was as if someone were about to push me down the stairs. Sometimes I felt a touch on the small of my back, or felt and heard breathing on the back of my neck. This was quite upsetting.

Sometimes during the day, if I worked alone, I would turn the seventies style stereo on to listen to music as I worked. One morning I was in the office working on my documenting when I heard the tuner on the stereo. I went into the “ball room” and watched as the button on the tuner moved as if an unseen hand was trying to change the station. I quickly shut the stereo off.

It came on again, and with it the changing of the station. I unplugged it, and thankfully, that was that; although it was clear that there was an electrical charge a few seconds after I unplugged it.

Mornings after that, the stereo was often on because staff had turned it on. When staff left, the stereo antics began again; that is unless I remembered to leave it unplugged.

Garrett Home was closed a few years ago. The residents that had once raised hell within it’s wall now living in their own apartments or deceased. I still wonder how much Gorman Home had effected their lives. It was a spooky old house, but like many other houses of its ilk, attracted a new family. They refurbished the grand old home to its former glory. Hopefully it isn’t playing games with them like it did with me.