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Ghost Tales In My Family

May 12, 2008

My name is Jessica, and ever since I can personally remember there has always been a true ghost tale told in my family. First things first, I am now 18 and mature enough to know that telling fake stories is beyond my intelligence.

It starts out by my mother telling me a ghost tale here and a ghost tale there. And she always told me that these were fake and I shouldn’t fear them. Ghost stories like she and her brother (my uncle) would go through when they were young. My mom always explained that as a child she moved around a lot, from place to place, leasing houses.

One house in particular was worst of all. Where she would wake up in the middle of the night from a dead sleep to see my uncle standing in the corner of her room touching and talking to the wall. And her dad (my grandpa) was a drunk, not a very good role model to his kids and wife. He would drink the most in this house and get violent the most in this house. Not only did my mom and uncle, gramma and grandpa experience things in that house, but the things that happened starting taking its toll on the inhabitants.

My grandpa would be sitting in the living room drinking his 40 but not yet drunk where he’d hear children’s voices down the hall. Thinking it was my mom and uncle, he’d run down the hall to tell them to go back to sleep only to find them resting in a slumber still. And when he’d sit up all night to watch television he says he swore that the shelf above the TV rocked and the home interiors would fall off of it.

Well, needless to say there are a lot more stories my mom said were fake. But that’s just to name a few. Then when I would go and tell my grandma about the “FAKE” stories my mom had told me, she would say that they weren’t fake, they were real.

Countless number of times my uncle has told me more and more stories about that house in Orlando, Florida. And countless more times he would tell me that entities are still plaguing him. When my uncle was in his 20’s he had gotten married to a woman, and they bought a house together. Unfortunately the house was haunted. I hated sleeping over there on nights my step aunt had to watch my brother and I. I would never fall asleep. I would never close my eyes. I felt if I did, I’d be letting my guard down and something or someone would find me and hurt me. Needless to say, something tore their marriage apart and my uncle told my aunt to keep the house.

He ended up moving in with my grandma where all hell broke loose. My uncle would tell our family all the time how every morning at two am sharp, right before he had to get up and get ready for work, he would exit his bedroom to find a tall slender figure of a man standing in front of my grandmas wide screen TV. Why do I mention the type of TV? Because that’s how my uncle told us how big and tall the figure was.

Well my mom ended up divorcing my real dad and meeting my step-dad and shortly moving in a house with him where for nine years I was tormented by the darkness of the unknown. It all started the year we moved in. It was August of 1996 and I was six years old. I remember the year because my mom bought my step-dad a cat for his birthday on August 4th and that cat is now 12 yrs old.

My birthday comes in October where I turned seven in the first year of that house. I clearly remember having all of my family over for my birthday. I also remember my mom telling me to go and get my little four year old twin cousins out of my room because they were playing with my toys. My mother and I could hear their laughter and voices behind my closed door to my room. So I know I told my mom alright. I distinctly remember walking in my room to find my room perfectly clean. No toys were out and everything was put up and neatly arranged to how I had it. The twins were not in my room.

Some years later, I believe I was 15 at the time, when I had just got done cleaning and rearranging my room ( I had like an OCD with cleaning and rearranging my room). I had it in a particular way where you could not see my door way from the head board of my bed. I made it that way just cause I didn’t want to look up one night and see a figure in my doorway.

After knowing my work was good, I put my knick knacks and breakables on an old shelf right by the doorway. I remember one day when my friend Vyanna came over and she wanted me to go and play Dance Dance Revolution at her house. So I was exiting my room and as I did a candle on that shelf flew off and hit my foot as I walked by. I can’t explain how, and I can’t explain why, but I do know that I explained to my mom how much it scared me.

Taking you back a few years, to when I was nine. My mom had a baby at the house three months too early, a little girl we called Julie. When the paramedics arrived to my mom, that little girl had already passed away. So for three months after the misfortune, my mom would wake me up at nights, I’d say once or twice a week, complaining that she heard a little baby’s cry. She said that the cry sounded like it was coming from my room. That of course scared me, but what scared me the most was my mom hearing an infants cry when no one else could.

After realizing the cry wasn’t coming from my room my mother told me to get up and put shoes on because she wanted me to go outside with her and look for the crying baby. Well the search for the baby continued and I kinda got into a routine, my mom waking me up and telling me to put my shoes on to go look for it. I would already have my shoes and flashlight by my bed waiting for my mom to get me. Then when I would confront her about it the next morning, she had no memory of ever doing so (May I add, my mom is a perfectly sane woman).

Then my mom got pregnant with a little boy not far behind and he was born in February of 2000. We call him Ben. Once, when I was 16, it was my mother’s and step-dad’s anniversary and I agreed to watch Ben as they went out and celebrated. I got their permission to invite Vyanna over for some company. I got Ben fed and put him to bed. Afterwards Vyanna and I played the Dance Dance Revolution game in my bedroom.

We went to take a break from all that dancing around and got something to drink. I checked on Ben and he was sound asleep. But Vyanna and I were covered with a fear of dread and we began to hear footsteps in my kitchen. My living room is off my kitchen where you can see the counters and the stove from the couch. Vyanna was sitting on the couch and I was sitting on the chair, where you can not see into the kitchen. Vyanna all of a sudden jumped up and ran out of my house. I followed her to see her sitting on my front steps with her head in her hands crying. Of course I asked her why she had done that, and she said that she swore she saw her cat on my counter. Running from the sink to the stove. Vyanna’s cat had died three days earlier after giving birth to a litter of four kittens. I walked back inside to the kitchen to investigate. All I saw was my fat cat sitting on the air conditioner vent that was on the floor. I went to check on Ben and he was still sound asleep.

I’m 18 now, and I have only shared a handful of experiences. Everybody that has ever lived in that house or visited that house has experienced something sometime or another. I now live with my boyfriend in Sanford, Florida and since I moved out of that house my mom and step-dad have gotten a divorce, and she now is engaged to another man in another house.

My step-dad still lives in that house and still continues to experience weird phenomenon. Ben visits my step-dad (his birth dad) every weekend and even that eight year old boy shares his ghost stories. Ben even sees a little girl in my grandmas back yard and calls her Camilla Jo hand, which is a little girl that was raped, mutilated and murdered in the year of 1969 in Ocoee, Florida.

Now living in this apartment, I still feel that spirits attach to me, because I’ve only lived here a month and I have already experienced what I can’t explain. I am really sorry that this is so long, but now you can get a glimpse of true ghost stories. Thank you and until next time, please leave your feedback, and tell me your stories.

Written by Jessica Marie Wishon, Copyright 2008

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