and As published in the Blue Island Forum, 10/31/06 edition, and in my AOL journal.
and Over the years, I’ve heard stories from a number of people. Here are a few.
and The young man pointed at the bathroom window. “Had to block that off,” he told me. “Couldn’t stand it anymore.” A piece of plywood had been cut to fit over the window. and "What’s that?” I asked.
and “Kept hearing a baby crying. Wouldn’t stop either.”
and “You call someone? Maybe it’s sick or something.”
and “No, You don’t get it. There is no baby. Not here, and not next store. There’s an old man living there. Thought I was crazy when I asked him about it.”
and Mrs. X. described a sketch she found in her attic when she moved into her house. “It was a pencil drawing,” she said. “Of a young, bearded man in an old time military uniform. I always called him Captain.”
and She told of how she loved the sketch, and how she thought about hanging it in the entrance hall of her home. When she did, she said she heard footsteps walking across her living room. “I heard them a lot after that,” Mrs. X explained. “Especially when I knew that no one was in that room.”
and This went on for many years, and ended only when her home burned down. The fire caused significant damage in the front hall, right in front of the where the sketch hung, and consumed the sketch itself.
and After her home was rebuilt, she came across a book about the life of Ulysses S. Grant. Inside was a copy of the sketch. It was Grant in his early years. His nickname was Captain.
and My daughter, Becki, spent the night at her friend, Jen’s, house, which is located across a field from freight tracks. The pair said it was hot, late into that night, and they were restless. They moved to the back porch where they could talk. The girls watched as a boy materialize by the tracks. He was wearing a Adidas jacket, and wavering in and out. Becki said that he stayed in the area, never moving too far in any direction. After about thirty minutes, he just faded away.
and “You know,” Maggie told me, “I was little when this happened.” It was late in the evening and Grandma was reading to Maggie and her brother. “Something moved in the dining room,” Maggie explained. “Grandma thought it might have been Uncle Bob.” When she called out, no one answered. Again she heard something rustle. “You know, Grandma thought then it might have been her sister back in Poland. They knew when Grandma immigrated that they might not see each other again, so they promised that whoever died first, she would try to let the other know she had passed. And Grandma knew her sister was ill. She thought maybe that it might have been her sister making that noise.“ Two weeks later, Maggie said, mail arrived from Poland. “The envelope had black lines along the edges. It was customary to use that kind of writing paper when someone died.” Inside was a letter informing Grandma her sister had passed. It was dated two week earlier.
and Mary told me this. “You just wouldn’t believe it,” she said. “I’d put my ironing board up, lay out my ironing, and step away. When I’d come back, it was ironed and folded. Now if you have to live in a haunted house, that’s the type of ghost you want.”
and I sent my son, Jon, out for milk one evening. Becki volunteered to keep him company. They bought the milk, and something to snack on. Then Becki decided she didn’t want to hurry home. “Let’s go for a ride.”
and Jon drove north into Chicago. “I’ve always wanted to see the Irish Castle up close,” he said.
and He pulled into the driveway at the Unitarian Church, and up to the Castle itself. “He was looking at something,“ Becki told me later. “When I tried to look, he just tore out of there. Really fast. All freaked out and everything.”
and I asked him about it. “There was a girl there, in an old fashioned plaid dress, and I could see right through her.”
and It took a bit of research, but I found out who the girl might have been. In the early 1900’s that building served as a school for girls. A flu epidemic took a large number of lives during that time, and apparently a number of girls from that school as well.
and A reference librarian told this story. "Every so often someone would be pulled over by Memorial Park for speeding. The cop would be driving an old Indian brand motorcycle. He’d stop the car, warn the driver, and then jump on his motorcycle and take off. When the driver reported it to the police, he was told that the Police Department hasn’t owned motorcycles for many years."
BOO!
*Graphics by D's Designs
2 comments:
Fascinating, love them all. The first one about the crying baby. In one house I lived in I used to hear a baby crying every night when I went to bed. There were no babies anywhere in the area.
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