paranormal and cryptozoology – Page 2

Down on Main Street…And in the End…The Conclusion…

And in the end…

Twenty years, that was my sentence in that house. Twenty long years. I always thank whomever for having my older sisters there with me so I could tell I wasn’t crazy. We had a crazy great Aunt in our family so we are always checking with each other with our standard, “What do you think? Am I being crazy?” Only we meant it literally.

Luckily we did have a few witnesses along the way. I’ll share two more, the rest I’ll save for the future book, hey you never know, right?

Take those sunken eyes and learn to see…

“When my mom and I came and stayed in gonna call it the porch that was made into a room, oh that was terrifying. Had to get up to go to the bathroom, and when returning to the room I felt something boring into the back of my head. I jumped back in the bed and covered my face it felt very bad, like poltergeist

Another time I was sleeping on a roll away bed next to the big radiator on my back, i was able to tilt my head back and see the clock on the wall but I wasn’t able to move my body like something was holding me down. Then I remember taking a shower and not being able to pick up my feet as if they were glued down.

The hallway was the worst at feeling something to me, in front of the bathroom by your parents bedroom….creepy as hell.”

– K.A

When I find myself in times of trouble mother Judy comes to me…

I wanted to mention just a little bit on the bathroom. Between watching the movie Psycho (which incidentally scared my Mother’s ass off in the theatre) way to young and ghosts running a muck in my house, I absolutely dreaded taking a shower. There was only one way in hell that was happening, my poor mother had to sit in the bathroom with me. To watch my back so to speak. She did it for us all. And when she was in the shower we sat lined up in the room with her like little ducks. I should mention our bathroom was huge. It also had a phone and a good lock in it. It was our panic room. Intruder comes in, grab the aluminum bat, run to the bathroom, lock the door and call 911. We just had to get passed the dead to get there so we had choices to make….

I get by with a little help from my friends…

“If I can just make it past the dryer in the hallway I’ll be fine. This was my thought as I booked it up the back stairs of the Main Street house where my best friend lived, Sasy’s big sister lived. I don’t recall ever navigating those stairs at a walking pace. My dad would drop me off out front and I would make my way down the driveway to the back door. It was a good day if you opened the outside door to find the cellar door closed. There was no gaping maw of evil to deal with then and you could just move fast up the dim stairway, make it around the corner at at the top of the landing, traverse the straightaway, turn left at the dryer and bust through the door, which was never locked and for good reason ( Ghosties hot on your tail), into the kitchen. Here I would be met most times by a heckling crowd gathered around the kitchen table which included Sasy and her sister’s, and their many assorted friends. So safety, in other words.

I had my own creepy basement In the house I grew up in. Not an old house at the time, but built on land where battles took place in King Phillip’s War. There was an unfriendly area there. There were two rooms near the bulkhead, one for laundry and the other my Dad’s workroom. I would hear my name spoken if I was alone and the bell on the bulkhead door would ding when no one was done there, my Mom would send me down with a load of wash and as I approached the door I would say out loud “don’t mess with me, I’m just here to do my laundry!” Then I would run through the cellar and back up the stairs. There is a certain feeling associated with knowing there is something other nearby and when you turn your back you damn well better scoot. Like someone is trying to goose you. So I was familiar with this feeling when I was introduced to the Main Street house. I also had my shields in place and my phasers set to kill by that time from my own childhood experiences. I think this is why I wasn’t meddled with to much when I was there. I was locked down tight. If that cellar door was open, I’d be all “oh no you don’t!” And then begin my desperate sprint up the stairs, around the creepy corner landing, gotta get past the dryer and I’m in!

As creepy as the basement gauntlet was, what was worse, to me, was the short hallway between my friend’s bedroom and her parent’s bedroom, with the bathroom in the middle. I was pretty sure this was the portal to hell. I had to make the choice, hold it, with bladder explosion or venture in there alone with good chance I would be sucked somewhere off planet. If I went in, it was fast, don’t look left or right, be as expeditious as you can and get the hell out. This area was ripe with activity for those living there and there was just an active bad feeling there for me. It was like a black hole and I, to this day, Have dreams about that area. I was surprised that Sasy’s sister didn’t mention in her entry how she was grabbed by the ankle and held in place while she was showering. If I recall she was also called by name too. Which is super creepy if it happens to you because it’s personal. I guess she didn’t want to revive that memory.

I remember I slept over one time and one time only. I spent the the night on the floor of the bedroom with one eye open all night, monitoring the bedroom closets, the portal to hell hallway and the underneath of the bed right next to my head. I didn’t even allow my feet to poke out of the blankets.

I don’t even know how they managed to sleep there on a regular basis. My friend is permanently warped by living there as evidenced by her particular sleep habits. When we go on vacation together she packs ear plugs, stygian darkness and white noise are necessary to her for proper sleep.

So, for me, my experience of the Main Street house was the feeling of the place mostly. I didn’t want to see anything or get all touchy feely with a ghost or whatever. But I knew they were there. And I believe the stories of Sasy and her sisters and their mom.

It helps to explain why they are all so crazy…”

He’s as blind as he can be, just sees what he wants to see…

You’ve read that my mom was the kick ass ghostbuster of the neighborhood…who ya gonna call? Judy that’s who…now as for my dad, we haven’t mentioned him often because he saw only one weird thing the whole time we lived there (A red negligee on the bed). He was completely oblivious. Singing away no fear or worries practicing a new song in the shower like we were living in a normal universe. He didn’t realize that everyday was the same thing, whatever we lived with would mimic the sounds he made coming up the stairs everyday, the whistling, keys jiggling and grocery bags crinkling. My mom would say, “open the door for your dad” and guess what he was never there!Now he didn’t say directly he didn’t believe us, but I know at first he didn’t. Then the whole neighborhood had issues and really, we couldn’t all be nuts…I love him, I miss him, but he was the skeptic from hell. And unfortunately he made the money so we were trapped, till he decided we were moving…twenty freaking years later…

We all did the best we could to ignore and adapt to our environment. We had each other. We didn’t let the spooks ruin everything. As a family we loved and laughed a lot. I can see the laugh lines forming now. My friends all wanted my parents to adopt them because they saw us interacting as a family laughing and living life. People always ask why I’m always jacked in, what’s with the constant music? Well we all came together around music. I can hear a song and immediately think of something ridiculous that happened growing up. My dad was an entertainer, he sang constantly. But most important it blocked out noises, voices and kept my brain occupied. Still does, everyone I know I have attached a song to, they just don’t know that…yet. And why the Beatles lyrics? The Beatles was the one band from the beginning we all agreed on, could sing along with… together…

So that was my haunted tale. well most of it, I don’t want to bore you by going on and on. And it’s okay not to believe it all, the floating probably sounded insane, I’m just happy to have it out there and over with. I’ve purged out my childhood…I’m truly free…

And in the end, the love you made was equal to the love…you gave

Song quotes from The Beatles

All pictures of the house were taken by me and reflects how it looks as of today, August 19, 2019

Down on Main Street…Part 6…Nightmare on Main Street…

One, two, Freddy’s coming for you…

It’s bad enough when you’re being stalked by ghosts in your waking life to then be terrified asleep too. My sisters and I were having nightmares almost every night since we were little.

Three, four better lock your door…

Bedtime had a ritual while I was little. My mom would watch tv or sleep for a bit In my sister’s and I’s room till we feel asleep. If I woke up during the night and she was gone? Well then you played the grab your pillow and your stuffed protective Sheriff dog and run full speed like your ass was on fire game…don’t stop and look at anything just run.

I feel bad she didn’t get much time to herself back then because I was a chicken shit. But I was a play with my Barbie doll princess. I couldn’t handle this ghostly insanity. I was just to young to deal. But I did the best I could, we all did.

5,6 grab your crucifix…

Okay back to bedtime. It took me awhile to fall asleep. I needed the TV on, the kitchen light and my mother to do it. But when it sleep did come? It was a different kind of fear.

7, 8 better stay up late…

Down on Main Street…Part 7…I Don’t Wanna go Down In the Basement…

There were a few hot spots in our house I especially didn’t like – the hallway by my mother’s bedroom, her actual bedroom, and the front hallway. They were all to be avoided whenever possible. Just thinking about the basement in that house gives me the creepy crawlies. Full on nightmare material I’m telling you.

I recently purchased my own home, do you want to know what it doesn’t have? A basement, that’s what. I’ll take my chances with the tornadoes of the world. The lack of a basement was one of the things I liked best about the house. The realtor was like, “You probably won’t like this, but it’s just a slab.” Well then, pop the champagne, I’m buying a house today!

I don’t want to go down in the basement…

On Main Street there was a huge basement and the only way to avoid being close to it when you came and went was to go through the front hallway. Well I didn’t like that vibe either. For some reason there were always hornets there (which I got stung by many times). So the basement it was.

There’s something down there…

I can’t describe the feeling of walking through, or passing by the door of the basement any better then by saying, pure terror. I’m talking, break out in sweats, wide eyed terror. I have no idea what could have ever happened down there that could have been so bad. Whatever it was, it left an echo or evil stain on it for the rest of eternity. By the way, one second in that basement actually felt like an eternity. My sisters and I were all terrified of it. I never actually saw anything odd down there. I don’t think James Brolin is walled in there but you never know. And even though we didn’t see anything, we felt something menacing down there watching us, and we always thought if we stood still in there long enough whatever it was would grab us.

I don’t want to go…

I can’t talk about the basement and the staircases without talking about something that I always kept secret. I was young and I thought maybe I was losing my mind. I was afraid to tell anyone, even my family and we shared everything.

Some days I would walk to the top of the stairs and then the next thing I knew I was at the bottom by the basement door and outside door. I was always panicked at first because I didn’t remember coming down, and what if I fell? But I would remember a sensation of floating down them and I definitely knew I didn’t walk down them on my own. Some days I would stand up top and wait and see if I would float down, like a game. Later, when I was in my tweens, I never felt that again. And I wondered, did they jump into me trying to find a way to get outside of that house? All I knew was no one said anything about it happening to them so I wasn’t saying a peep.

About a decade ago, give or take, my sister’s and I were having dinner and chatting away. The Main Street house came up, as it often did, and my sister said she had something happen to her there that she never talked about before. Well we were all ears. She started to explain how she felt like some days she floated down the steps and my other sister said “You too?!” And then we realized we couldn’t all be having the same hallucination, we must all have actually experienced this.

Here’s one sister’s account of “floating” down the stairs…

“So, some of the times that I came home…and actually sometimes when leaving the house…I would get the feeling that I floated up the stairs (or down depending which direction I was going). And I wouldn’t know really how I got to the top or the bottom. It was surreal. This was just the crazy leading to crazier.”

Here’s my oldest sister’s experience…

“I didn’t like anything about that entrance. At the bottom, to the left of the stairs, was the entrance to the terrible basement, at the top was the door to our kitchen. Not exactly at the top, though. the door was around a blind corner, and you never knew if you were going to run into whoever was always turning the doorknob. The staircase itself was…mysterious. For a good chunk of my childhood I had many trips down the stairs (it only happened to me when going down the steps, never up) that I had no memory of walking. I’d be at the top, have a brief sensation of falling, and then floating. My brain would be all foggy, like when your under a mild anesthesia. Suddenly, I’d be at the bottom of the stairs, wide awake, hand on the doorknob to exit. And I’d be SCARED, because I knew something wrong was happening, but I had no way to make it stop and no way to PROVE it was happening. So, I said absolutely nothing about it, until I mentioned it at dinner one evening, ten or so years ago…

I don’t want to go down in the basement…

What did the spirits want with us, with our body? Why only float us on the staircase? (I should mention I only floated down). Were they trying to get out of the house, and when we got to the door they realized they couldn’t leave? I can’t believe all these years as adults who understand and believe in hauntings we never told each other. I truly thought I was crazy. I’m amazed I can share this with everyone now. I’m learning it doesn’t matter if you think I’m a silly, crazy girl at the end of this story, because what’s important is getting it out of my system. There just may be a person (or a family) like ours that needs to know they are not crazy. Isn’t that why most of us in this paranormal world are here? We want to understand what we went through, we want to help those living through it now, and we want to show the world we aren’t crazy, we are not alone in this.

I truly hope this helps some young girl or boy. If you’re reading this, you are not alone and you are not crazy. I believe you. If you can have ghost encounter PTSD, then I have it. I’m a night owl who barely sleeps at all, and I need a light and noise to not be afraid to close my eyes. And unless my sisters and I had shared hallucinations, then spirits are real, very real, and hopefully they aren’t in your home right now…

To be continued…

Song lyrics are from, I Don’t Want to go Down to the Basement by The Ramones

Down on Main Street….Part 6…If you Have Ghosts…

If you have ghosts you have everything…

Part six and you’re still here, I thank you for that. I think I mentioned I’m one of three sisters. My older and wiser sister has a story to tell as well. Hers is fresher in her mind because she was older when it all began. I like to keep saying older sister just to annoy her. Okay I’ll stop now, and here it is, my oldest sister’s tale (I tried, but you are older after all)…

You can call it surprise there it is…

“When we moved into the Main Street house I was incredibly excited about the move because our previous apartment was very tiny, and this place was HUGE. Built in the early 20th century, it was a maze of interconnected rooms, lots of doorways and hallways with 2 entrances and a large basement.

In the beginning it was fine for us kids, but my mom immediately began hearing people walking around in the kitchen in the middle of the night when we were all asleep, seeing doorknobs turn with nobody on the other side, waking up to find “people” around her bed talking to each other, but not seeming to notice mom in the bed, and many other bizarre experiences.

As we got older we were better able to recognize that some of the things we were hearing, seeing and feeling were not normal. I have a few memories of my own that haven’t faded with time….

In the night I am real…

My bedroom-Most nights I’d lay in bed with my eyes scrunched closed, trying to sleep, but there was so much NOISE. Items, large and small, sliding around on my dresser, drawers opening and closing, sometimes windows. I never saw anything moving because I never, ever, opened my eyes.

My parents bedroom-For a while we had my great grandmothers rocking chair in their bedroom. It was one of those 18th century padded, apholstered numbers with flowery fabric. I loved that chair, but often when you entered the room it was rocking. My scariest memory was the night I decided to lay on my parents bed for a little rest because I could still see into the dining room where everyone was sitting and chatting. After a couple of minutes I could hear the dresser at the foot of the bed, drawers with jangling handles, opening and slamming, over and over. My eyes were open but I refused to look. Suddenly the window opened and slammed shut, then all was quiet. And I ran.

My sisters’ room-I think my sister may have already told this story, but here it is again! We were sitting on the floor, listening to a Duran Duran record, and our cat was laying on the open window’s sill behind the slatted headboard of the bed. Shockingly, she was pushed through the headboard, ribs first, with her head and tail following. Bent in half. It was awful. I still can’t believe she came through that scared but unhurt.

The back hallway-The worst. Door knob always turning with nobody on the other side, footsteps up and down the stairs at all hours, the basement door at the bottom of the stairs that we were all too scared to walk by if it was open (major creepy-crawlies). And the stairs…that’s a story for Sasy to tell in another installment.

Many of the homes on our street were like our place, and I can’t finish up my story without mentioning that my mom was the neighborhood kickass ghost buster. Strange noises, doorknobs turning, faces in the window? No problem! She would pick up her broom (I’m not even kidding) and march into dark hallways, fling open doors, windows, anything, with her broom raised high. And she did that for all the neighborhood kids whose parents worked and they came home from school to an empty house. Well, almost empty house…”

VBE

The moon to the left is a part of my thoughts, and a part of me is me…

I’m glad my sisters are purging this story from their mind and soul as well as myself. It wasn’t fair to grow up, make friends, go through puberty, first loves, etc with this always humming around us making us doubt our sanity. I’m glad we were close and always had each other. But at least you’re learning now what makes me…me and how and why I’m so weird. Seeing is believing they say. Well like the expression goes, I’ve seen some things. And the spirits in my material world were just a gateway to all other high strangeness. You can tell me anything, you won’t shock me and I will believe you, because I know…I know, how important it is for someone to be that ear. Someone you can be weird with and they’ll support you no matter what, I hope you all find that one person…

To be continued…

Down on Main Street…Part 5…Sisters are Doing it for Themselves…

Well wow, part 5 already. Glad you are still hanging in there with me. As many things as I could go on about, I’ll tell you this one little story. After that, and because I didn’t live in this house alone, one of my sisters is ready to tell her story of what it was like in that hell. So let me get rolling here…

You are not Alone…

I stayed home from school one day, I think high school, maybe freshman year? Well, no matter, I stayed home sick and was in my room sleeping away. It’s the best when you can sleep in and the house is quiet, and you’re psyched because you got to stay home, and your dad didn’t even pull you by your toes to get up. Well, that was what I thought I was going to be doing, until my mother woke me up panicked because whatever she saw coming out of my bedroom wasn’t me. At first she said she thought it was my sister, because one of our ghostly friends looked sort of like her because she wore this white fluffy bathrobe. If you saw a flash of white you hoped it was her. My mother got up because the phone was ringing and she thought it was my sister going to answer it. She actually even said to “whatever,’ “I got it” (the phone). But then she realized that particular daughter was at school and I was in the bedroom alone…

We sat in the dining room for hours because we could see the whole house from there. And our TV kept going off and on. We were a mess by the time everyone else got home, and me? I didn’t sleep for a least a month. My mother was truly frightened. All I kept thinking was that ‘whatever’ was in the room with me alone. What was it doing? Was it looking at me? What if I opened my eyes? Until you experience that terror it will be hard to understand or believe, but it’s true. It’s all true…and now my sister’s story in her own words…

We’re in this Together Like Birds of a Feather…

“Main Street…where do I start? So when I was little, probably about the time of double digits, a lot of strange things happened. There was always an overall “creepy” feeling most of the time….especially at night. But there are some things that really stand out from my time there, which was a long time. So…nobody ever really liked the basement. I don’t know what it was, but the feeling that you got down there was not good.

Oddly it wasn’t all the time, but most of the time. A lot of the times we had to come in the basement entrance because that is where our father parked. And later when we got older that is where we parked. From the minute you opened the basement door, you only had a fraction of time to open the door, then slam it shut, and run up those basement stairs and then slam the door shut at the top of the stairs. For me that was pretty much my routine every time. And as a side note, if this was night time I wouldn’t even bother opening the basement door. I would literally walk to the end of the dirt road in the back, around the corner up the road to the Main Street side of the house. That would be the times when I went through our normal porch side entrance. And if the door leading to the basement wasn’t shut, again I would kick the door shut, run up the stairs and pray that the top door to the house was not locked so that you didn’t have to stand next to the attic (Not going to go into that story).

One day I saw a glimpse of a face in my mother’s bureau mirror, a face of a man that I could not describe. I was accused several times by my mother for being home wandering around the house instead of at school. I was either seen wandering around, walking to answer the phone or passing by a doorway…apparently just being a wandering nuisance. This was all because I used to have a white bathrobe and she always saw a white figure. Well all the times I was seen “wandering” I was never home. Ever.

This last story I’ll share is that there were times when I would hear the door knob rattle on its own. When I was younger I used to have these nightmares where somebody was always rattling our front door knob and when I would get to the door it would push open on me and it would basically be blackness trying to come in the other side. I didn’t know what it meant but I used to have that same dream that the doorknob would rattle. And my mother would go to answer it and I would beg her not to open the door, she would open it and then the darkness would push in. That’s the point I always wake up. But it felt real…like there was a darkness or dark force trying to come into our home. I do believe though, it may have already been there.”

We are Family…I got all my Sister’s with me…

We all had nightmares and I believe they all came from what was brewing inside our home. I do want to say though that the doorknob rattling happened daily in our home, and the neighbors homes. Every Saturday morning my sister and I would get up early and watch cartoons. We would sit on the couch next to the door leading to the stairs out to the front door. And every morning nonstop something would run up and down the stairs, jiggle the knob, and run back down. For hours. Hours. We were so used to it we would yell at them to stop. They didn’t. My mother would always unlock the doors and go check it out. Every time she opened the door we thought she wouldn’t be coming back…

To be continued…

And Now a Word From Bigfoot About the Fourth of July

Well it’s that time of year again. One of the few days you fools leave me alone in the woods to myself, while you go try to get blown up by fireworks 💥.

I myself am not a fan of explosions and fire. Hair catches fire to easily ya know. That is why you never see any evidence of fire from us. No sir..but no matter how many times your houses, lawns, decks and fingers catch fire you keep on keeping on.

Someone has even set the forest on fire, my forest here…on freakin fire…that cannot happen again. Some of my forest friends did not make out as lucky as I.

You don’t know this, but while you’re taking a break from following me, I get a chance to observe you. I’ve even crept up to the edge of your backyards. And let me tell you something. You have not seen stupid if you haven’t observed a backyard Fourth of July party. Allow me share some of my field notes with you..

1. First off, It’s to Hot to have an outdoor party, your guests are roasting and you don’t have a pool. New rule, if you don’t have a pool, you are not allowed to have a summer party. Period.

2. Omg! Tell that awful band to stop croaking already. Dear hairy god, could they be anymore Wedding Singer bad.

3.There actually can be to much red, white and blue. Blinking glasses, hats and even shirts. People, just no.

4. Now let’s talk about cuisine. I’m sorry, how long exactly has that potato salad been out. And are those flys on top of it. Those hot dogs are more shriveled than, well all right I’ll spare you the end of that sentence. But it has a lot to do with cold water. Which no one here has to worry about , because you don’t have a pool!!!!

5. And now your host..blinking flag moron. Your friends husband, whom you can’t deal with but you feel obligated. He has no shirt on. Hairier chest than me with blinking shorts that say “is that a light in my shorts, or does he just automatically light up whenever I see you?” He is the biggest drunk there. You feel violated when he just stands next to you, and you’re planning out how to escape and take his children with you.

6. The other guests. Really, hahaha if those were my friends I’d take off and live in the woods somewhere. Oh wait, I already do. Guess mine suck too.

7. Let’s get ready to rumble..and now the main event. The one not staring Ryan O’Neil and Barbara Streisand. The fireworks 🎇 💥🔥🙌. The ones you are about to light up, next to all the other fireworks. Fool. But I’m prepared to run, always. That’s what I do. You have no clue what you’re doing. You’re letting blinking dick light them, while children are around and you’re only 20 feet from your house! And he’s throwing the used ones in the fire pit! The one 10 feet from the fireworks. Omg, I can’t watch anymore it’s to much.

The house, lawn and hairy chest went up in flames. The end of field 📝 notes.

I’d like to say if I shared this with you, you would learn a lesson and be safer and smarter next year. But this is the second time blinking dick had burned his hair off…

All pics found on google

Down on Main Street…Part 2

I’m not quite sure what makes one a believer or not. I’m not sure why some people are, as they say, open enough to see things of a paranormal nature but it’s true. There are two types of people in the world. One who sees with all their senses and one who is closed off. In our house it was my father who was closed off. The bread winner, the one who worked till he dropped and was never home. Thus we were stuck in our house till we could move ourselves out. But my mother knew that we were in trouble the day we moved in. Stuck there for life knowing my dad would never believe her, or us…Here is her story.

The mother ship has landed in Hell…

Her tale started on day one. The moving was tough going. She had my older sisters and soon to be me to contend with. Don’t get me wrong, she was a tough cookie. But we had a very big house and all the arrangements and unpacking were going to be on her. The day of the move she was exhausted so she laid down for a second in my sister’s bed. Upon getting a great shoulder rub she said, “Thank you junior,” to my dad (him…rub shoulders? Never). That should have been a red flag. But he didn’t answer. No one did, because no one was there. She knew on day one we had to get the hell out of there. There was a period of quiet here and there she said, or later what we would all call dormant. We would have periods off and on when the house would feel less, I don’t know, heavy, I guess you could say. We knew when “they” weren’t around. So it was awhile before her next encounter happened. But it did happen, at night, when she was sleeping in her bed. A place where everyone should feel safe. But as she slept she felt as if someone was staring at her and it woke her up. When she opened her eyes, an old woman was standing over her staring at her. She laid there for hours in shock and fear she said. She would never sleep much at night again after that, and later on, nether would we. And just so you get an idea of what she, and later we were going through, my dad died three years ago, still not really believing. Accepting it finally, but not necessarily believing. He saw one suspicious thing the entire time we lived there. We were screwed…

To be Continued…