Ghost Stories & Paranormal Encounters

Some of you may have read the story written by Taylor Weston entitled “Insomnia – The Boy In The Radio“. You may have found it hard to believe and wondered if perhaps Taylor made it up. Trust me, he did not. How do I know? I’ve also met Jayson; I’m the “friend with the newspaper” mentioned in his post. I asked him if it was all right for me to post my own experiences and he consented. Thanks Tay!

My experiences with Jayson parallel and in some cases overlap Taylor’s. The house he grew up in is indeed an old house (I had no idea it had been a hotel but it certainly is built like one) and signs of previous owners have shown up from time to time; one day his mother unearthed what had apparently been an old garbage pit in the backyard, and recently while doing some repairs, they found pages from a 1950 newspaper under the floor. Taylor was around 4 when he and his family left Seattle to move there in the early 1990s, and eventually the family grew to 5 kids – three girls and two boys. Life went on as could be expected. I’ve known Taylor’s mom since we were literally babies – our parents lived as neighbors for well over 40 years – and in 1998 started the first of my many visits out there.

In summer 2008, while visiting her family in Seattle, Taylor’s mom casually mentioned that there was definitely a ghost in the house. I’d already planned a trip out there for that November and was intrigued. She talked about the radio tuning itself and filled me in on what she knew about Jayson; he was 12 when he died, he had died in the downstairs room that had been Taylor’s just before he moved out, and that he was there to watch over the family and was not harmful in any way. Needless to say, I was a bit skeptical since the family had lived there for years and never had said anything before. But I went out there with an open mind and thought it’d be cool to see any evidence before I went home. Little did I know it’d happen minutes after I arrived.

The videotape, which I started just after I arrived, shows little at first. Taylor’s sister shyly ducking away from the camera. One of the cats lounging in the hallway. And then the voice of Taylor’s mom calling me from downstairs: “Jayson just turned the radio on.” Sure enough, the radio – which was in Taylor’s old bedroom – had turned on. I ran in there and for the first few minutes, nothing happened. Taylor’s oldest sister stood beside me wearing an Adrian Peterson Vikings jersey while her husband sat on the bed behind me. We asked the radio various questions as I videotaped but the radio played away. Finally I asked Jayson if he was excited about Christmas which was then a month away.

The volume on the radio began climbing. As I watched in disbelief, the volume went to the maximum – 30. Then the questions came quicker, and he answered them all. Does he like fruit? Yes. Does he like vegetables? No. Does he like baseball? Yes. He adjusted the volume to answer them all. The kicker came when I asked Jayson what his favorite number was. After a few moments, the volume went up to 28 and stopped. For a moment I didn’t make the connection, but then Taylor’s sister started jumping around. As you may recall, she was wearing an Adrian Peterson jersey at the time. The number on the jersey? 28. I asked if he’d chosen that number because of her. The volume went up.

I’d also been told that if you left crayons and paper out, he’d draw pictures sometimes. So that night, I left a new box of crayons and a notebook on the kitchen table, turned off all the lights and went upstairs. A few minutes later, out of curiosity, I went back downstairs. The crayons, which I’d left in the box, were all over the table and three lines were drawn down the center of the paper. At the same time I got a strong feeling like someone was telling me “I’m not done yet; please go back upstairs.” I took a picture of everything as it was, turned the lights off and went back upstairs. A half hour or so later, I came back down and found a crudely drawn smiley face with my name scrawled across the top. No one had gone downstairs or even been downstairs. No one had entered the house.

My visit continued with other “talks” with Jayson via the radio; one night when friends of mine were visiting, we stood three crayons on end and asked Jayson to topple his least-favorite color. As my friends watched everyone around the table for signs of trickery (and saw none), the pink crayon – no more than a few inches from the others – wobbled and fell over by itself. The other crayons didn’t budge.

My friend’s daughter spent that night in her parents bedroom.

My experiences with Jayson have never failed to be fascinating and awe-inspiring. In one of the last “conversations” we had, I asked him if he thought it was cool that he was able to communicate with us the way he has. The volume went up.

Me too, Jayson. Me too.

Sent in by Jeff Swanson, Copyright 2010