In conjunction with the contest I am running for THE RESTORER by Amanda Stevens and the fact that I had a ton of people in my survey ask for more personal stories from me, I’ve decided to tell you guys a bit about my personal experiences with the supernatural. I have a few so sit back and relax and let me tell you some Ghost Stories.

The fact that I have a very active imagination might play into a lot of my stories, I think creative people tend to “see” things where other mights logically think their way out of it, but I believe things have happened to me. A lot of things. I’ve had dreams with dead relatives where they’ve told me things of great importance. I see things from the corner of my eyes and sometimes (when I’m feeling vulnerable) believe that it might just be someone that I’m seeing, not tricks of light, eyes and mind. How could I not? Humans only see in certain spectrums, there could be other dimensions around us that beings live in. It could be very plausible that the things I see from the corner of my eyes are actual beings that might see me. Most of the time I talk myself out of these thoughts, but when you see a black shape out of the corner of your eye that is hanging over the bathroom stall and when you look up it is gone — well it is hard to discount that it wasn’t there at all, especially when it reappears the moment you look away.

Well enough of that, you guys want to hear about the ghosts right??

A long long time ago, my Great Grandmother purchased a house as an investment. She actually bought four of them, one for each of her children. One man had owned the house and had purchased it from the US Government. The houses were used as staging houses from what I understood, for the military. Either it was offices, or actual living quarters I’m unsure. The house went from my Great Grandmother to my Grandmother when she passed and was really never used as an actual residence, just a rental for most of my Grandmother’s life, until my Granny renovated her own house and moved into the Louisville house while renovations were being made. Then the stories began. Strange noises, doors opening, closing, things of that nature. But, my Granny is a very logical person, a math teacher so she blew it off.

On moving out, my mother, me and my two brother’s moved into the house, because my mom had just divorced my father and we needed a house to live in while my mom went back to school. I was fifteen, with a newly divorced mom who was in school and dating and giving me very little attention. I think I might have perpetuated the hauntings because I became obsessed with divination, tarot cards, conjuring and things of a more pagan nature. The odd noises increased. Running sounds would echo very loudly through the house at 8 pm every night. Every night. My cousin’s boyfriend who was Latino and very very superstitious saw a light over the bed and refused to ever enter the house again. I awoke to see a man standing next to my bed in full battle dress on numerous occasions and my tarot cards had startling accuracy. Something that I could not recreate when outside the house. A friend of mine actually did a side by side reading with me and we pulled the exact same cards – nine in total. We stopped at nine too freaked out.

Everything was rather benign though and it was almost just like a cool story you told when you were drinking with friends. My mother likes to bring it up a lot. I eventually joined the military and moved out of the house. My mom graduated and bought a house of her own and Granny rented the house. again.

Fast forward six years and Granny was renting it to a terrible woman who neglected her child and the neighbors were fed up. This was a very very nice neighborhood, one of the best in New Orleans and they didn’t like the riffraff that was going on in the house. My husband (bf at the time) and I had just decided to live together and my Granny asked if we could move into the property instead of renting outside the family so she would know there was someone “respectable” living there.

The haunting started up immediately. The refrigerator door was constantly swinging open and it was new with a great seal. I would walk into the kitchen and ALL the cabinets would be open (think the 6th Sense). The running at 8pm continued. One night my husband and I were sleeping when there was a loud banging coming from the bathroom. Someone was banging on the window…a window that looked out into the house (a shoddy add on, had the bathroom window looking into the storage room that was added on to the house). The window was actually situated so you would have to climb up a cabinet to get to it and like I said, was inside the house, so it wasn’t like it could be a neighbor banging away. There was no one else in the house and it scared the crap out of me.

And lastly, the grand finale of the hauntings. I don’t think he liked my stepbrother and sister, because one Mother’s Day my mom and her new husband and kids, along with my brother came by and we BBQd. The kids were in their early teens, tweens, and just being relatively good kids hanging out. My stepsister was in the kitchen with my brother and she went to the fridge to get a Diet Coke. I had a decorative HUGE jar of cut up oranges (something you would get at Pier One or World Market) at the back of the fridge and three German Beer Mugs at the front. My brother (who had to be around eighteen at the time) said he watched as the jar slid forward and moved to the side as it passed the mugs and then fell, striking the back of
my stepsisters head. The jar exploded. There was glass and vinegar and oranges everywhere. She was bleeding. She’s lucky it wasn’t worse. If it would have hit her higher she could of had a concussion or been knocked out, but it hit her at the base of the head. We spent and hour in the bathtub washing out the oranges and then cleaning up the kitchen. We looked at the top of the fridge and like most tops of fridge there was a bit of dust. I saw the track that they jar made. A regular jar sliding from being jostled would slide in a relatively straight line if it was doing so in one continual motion. This jar almost slid in an L pattern, judging from the streaks on the top of the fridge. The jar went AROUND the beer mug.

On the way out the door after being traumatized and a little shaken up. My stepbrother stopped to peer at my collection of DVDs and CDs (back when you still collected your CDs and displayed them in fancy case thingys), they were behind three tall candle holders that reached upwards of four feet. He touched nothing. I was watching. The entire area just crashed to the ground all of the cds, DVDs and candles just fell in upon themselves. There was stuff everywhere. My stepbrother ran out of the house and I don’t think he was comfortable coming back ever since….but after that everything seemed to go quiet. There really wasn’t that many nights when we heard the running noise anymore, and no more cabinets or fridge being opened it kind of just stopped. Or, as my husband said we came to a peaceful understanding with him.

Not too long after, maybe a year or two later the house was buried under 13 feet of water and then later torn down. Our family sold the lot and a contractor bought it and a new house is just beginning to be constructed on it. It’s a huge monster of a house. But the three oak tress that my Great Grandmother planted are still standing on the front lawn. I wonder if the ghost made it through Katrina – if he went with the house, or is staying with the lot. Will the new family that moves into the house hear running at 8 pm every evening, louder maybe in the Summer?

This is the house after Katrina. The water reached about a foot
over the roof. That is my husband on the lawn, we were trying to
save as much stuff as we could, so we were washing things
off on the lawn and storing them in bins. This is three weeks
after Katrina.
The three oak tress. Still standing. They made it through Betsy
and Katrina with just a little lean…

Here is the property listing if you guys are interested:

Also, don’t forget to enter THE RESTORER contest! Details above this post.