Well, finally making my way back here. I took some time off to develop 3d resources I've been building as well as a few other important life choices. So back to the story-telling...
Another ghost story perhaps? I'll tell a few of my own before wading into the memories of stories I've been told throughout my life. I've many of those too, small baubles of memory I've hoarded, tiny treasures that added up to the belief that there is more to this world than what our fingers can touch, our eyes can see or our ears can hear. Oddly enough manifestation of 'otherness' can include an intrusion upon those very three senses.
Years ago my grandmother moved to Richmond Texas to be closer to her son and daughter, my Father and Aunt, respectively. She and her husband had been obsessive antiques collectors and occasional dealers, their home peppered throughout by Early American antiques, mostly in the form of furniture, paintings and toys. Toys seemed to be a special interest of theirs and they often built small vignettes and dollhouses to house precious miniatures. Dolls lay encased in glass domes and cabinets in one room, whereas another might house the dollhouses, military toys, cars and a variety of other antique gems. As children, my cousins, sister and I found those rooms to be strangely eerie and though we never discussed our feelings about those room until adults, most of us recall rushing through the hallways and rooms and exiting as quickly as possible. A special sense of dread often came over me when I had to be in those areas alone.
After my grandfather passed away, Rosemary my grandmother, finally sold her old house and moved. Again she chose upstairs rooms to house her toys and set up decorating the place with all her beloved furnishings. Just above the kitchen, dining room and entry hall were parts of those very toy stuffed bedrooms.
I can recall visiting her on occasion as I lived a mere half block from her new home. One afternoon I stood in the dining room staring amongst all the interesting items that packed the house. Along one wall was a curtained window and behind that, along the far wall was an entry into an equally dark kitchen. The room I stood in had little lighting except that which shone fitfully through the curtains behind me.
I vividly recall looking up at the wall that faced the curtained window and noting an odd feeling come over me. It was certainly eerie though I wasn't the least bit scared. Odd, I know. From the ceiling, directly at the corner where wall and ceiling meet, slowly lowered a strange, semi-shimmering arc of light. Approximately 3 foot wide by 1 foot high, it lowered as if a large half oval of soft light was being lowered through the ceiling. Truly that's about the best way to describe it. It ' shimmered' golden not unlike light that reflects from a car in the hot summer sun. I remember being curious and glancing back at the curtain to see if it was open and if a car had pulled up outside to make such an odd half oval of light. No such luck. Nor could any light reflect from the kitchen or doorway on the dining room's opposite end. It was an anomaly that shouldn't have been possible though when faced with such a strange thing, your mind churns to try to define it. As strange as it sounds, I felt ' observed' as if whatever cast that light was equally as aware of me as I was of it. Again I felt no fear, just a wider sense of awareness than usual, even when it began to raise back up -through- the ceiling.
My memory of the event reminds me of one of those newer televisions that are placed in automated cabinets and can be called from their perch to raise or lower at whim. When it rose up, it did so smoothly, very much like one of those flat screen setups. Of course that was in the late nineties, when I'd never seen such a thing. It simply - was-. I stood and stared at the empty wall for a long moment afterwards. Once I knew whatever it was, was not returning, I began again to search for the source of that light, hoping it might be light from the window,or somehow reflected from the curtained kitchen windows into that dining room. At that time I was in my thirties and certainly adult and intelligent enough to realize that light will not reflect well through double fabric curtains. Nor will it turn and twist into arcs to reflect past walls and doorways, at least not with a well wrought system of highly reflective mirrors. Needless to say, none of those were present. Best of all, there were -no- cars parked outside on the street, not during ( I checked) and not after.
Strange events seem to have followed me throughout the greater years of my life. During many of the events I was not alone and certainly not the only experiencer of those happenings. I've heard it said that there is a small percentage of humans to whom such things happen on a relatively regular basis. Approximately 40% of people may have had admitted to some form of paranormal or unexplained activity in their lifetimes. There are many explanations for such findings.. anything from a mere sensitivity to magnetic fluctuations in the environment to an awareness, sensitivity or latent talent for actual events occurring in a frequency range that is usually imperceptible to most people.
Those that do experience such anomalies are often frightened of their experiences. Most of us would be if suddenly confronted with an event that went counter to the reality we have all been conditioned to believing in. Some of us try to ignore these events and pack them away in our memories, hoping to forget the day we saw "X" or "Z" happened. Others, like me, might be a bit more intrigued. I have been searching for answers for a very long time. My experiences usually don't set me back but tend to galvanize me into learning more. I am also clearly fascinated by the stories other people tell me. Though I may not believe everything told to me, most of the stories I have been told, we shared with me by friends, family members or business associates who had far more to lose in their sharing than not. ( mostly in reputation!)
I am very interested in hearing your experiences. To protect your name and/or reputation I offer you anonymity if you choose to share with me via email, in person or via electronic voice programs such as Skype or Messenger. If the story is accepted into "The Project" book, I also have a set of legal papers that both of us can sign that will protect that anonymity as well as allow me to reproduce your story in digital and potential retellings on other media. ( You retain rights to your own story regardless).
I do hope you will consider sharing with me, as well as the wider audience implicit in web and paper media. Each story is a small piece in a huge puzzle, a drop in an ocean of information on the subject. Still.. it may help others to understand and come to terms with their experiences and give us all a wider understanding of the picture as a whole.
Go on now.. click that reply button. Sidle over to the contact page and send me a little message. Really, I can't wait to hear from you. :)
Another ghost story perhaps? I'll tell a few of my own before wading into the memories of stories I've been told throughout my life. I've many of those too, small baubles of memory I've hoarded, tiny treasures that added up to the belief that there is more to this world than what our fingers can touch, our eyes can see or our ears can hear. Oddly enough manifestation of 'otherness' can include an intrusion upon those very three senses.
Years ago my grandmother moved to Richmond Texas to be closer to her son and daughter, my Father and Aunt, respectively. She and her husband had been obsessive antiques collectors and occasional dealers, their home peppered throughout by Early American antiques, mostly in the form of furniture, paintings and toys. Toys seemed to be a special interest of theirs and they often built small vignettes and dollhouses to house precious miniatures. Dolls lay encased in glass domes and cabinets in one room, whereas another might house the dollhouses, military toys, cars and a variety of other antique gems. As children, my cousins, sister and I found those rooms to be strangely eerie and though we never discussed our feelings about those room until adults, most of us recall rushing through the hallways and rooms and exiting as quickly as possible. A special sense of dread often came over me when I had to be in those areas alone.
After my grandfather passed away, Rosemary my grandmother, finally sold her old house and moved. Again she chose upstairs rooms to house her toys and set up decorating the place with all her beloved furnishings. Just above the kitchen, dining room and entry hall were parts of those very toy stuffed bedrooms.
I can recall visiting her on occasion as I lived a mere half block from her new home. One afternoon I stood in the dining room staring amongst all the interesting items that packed the house. Along one wall was a curtained window and behind that, along the far wall was an entry into an equally dark kitchen. The room I stood in had little lighting except that which shone fitfully through the curtains behind me.
I vividly recall looking up at the wall that faced the curtained window and noting an odd feeling come over me. It was certainly eerie though I wasn't the least bit scared. Odd, I know. From the ceiling, directly at the corner where wall and ceiling meet, slowly lowered a strange, semi-shimmering arc of light. Approximately 3 foot wide by 1 foot high, it lowered as if a large half oval of soft light was being lowered through the ceiling. Truly that's about the best way to describe it. It ' shimmered' golden not unlike light that reflects from a car in the hot summer sun. I remember being curious and glancing back at the curtain to see if it was open and if a car had pulled up outside to make such an odd half oval of light. No such luck. Nor could any light reflect from the kitchen or doorway on the dining room's opposite end. It was an anomaly that shouldn't have been possible though when faced with such a strange thing, your mind churns to try to define it. As strange as it sounds, I felt ' observed' as if whatever cast that light was equally as aware of me as I was of it. Again I felt no fear, just a wider sense of awareness than usual, even when it began to raise back up -through- the ceiling.
My memory of the event reminds me of one of those newer televisions that are placed in automated cabinets and can be called from their perch to raise or lower at whim. When it rose up, it did so smoothly, very much like one of those flat screen setups. Of course that was in the late nineties, when I'd never seen such a thing. It simply - was-. I stood and stared at the empty wall for a long moment afterwards. Once I knew whatever it was, was not returning, I began again to search for the source of that light, hoping it might be light from the window,or somehow reflected from the curtained kitchen windows into that dining room. At that time I was in my thirties and certainly adult and intelligent enough to realize that light will not reflect well through double fabric curtains. Nor will it turn and twist into arcs to reflect past walls and doorways, at least not with a well wrought system of highly reflective mirrors. Needless to say, none of those were present. Best of all, there were -no- cars parked outside on the street, not during ( I checked) and not after.
Strange events seem to have followed me throughout the greater years of my life. During many of the events I was not alone and certainly not the only experiencer of those happenings. I've heard it said that there is a small percentage of humans to whom such things happen on a relatively regular basis. Approximately 40% of people may have had admitted to some form of paranormal or unexplained activity in their lifetimes. There are many explanations for such findings.. anything from a mere sensitivity to magnetic fluctuations in the environment to an awareness, sensitivity or latent talent for actual events occurring in a frequency range that is usually imperceptible to most people.
Those that do experience such anomalies are often frightened of their experiences. Most of us would be if suddenly confronted with an event that went counter to the reality we have all been conditioned to believing in. Some of us try to ignore these events and pack them away in our memories, hoping to forget the day we saw "X" or "Z" happened. Others, like me, might be a bit more intrigued. I have been searching for answers for a very long time. My experiences usually don't set me back but tend to galvanize me into learning more. I am also clearly fascinated by the stories other people tell me. Though I may not believe everything told to me, most of the stories I have been told, we shared with me by friends, family members or business associates who had far more to lose in their sharing than not. ( mostly in reputation!)
I am very interested in hearing your experiences. To protect your name and/or reputation I offer you anonymity if you choose to share with me via email, in person or via electronic voice programs such as Skype or Messenger. If the story is accepted into "The Project" book, I also have a set of legal papers that both of us can sign that will protect that anonymity as well as allow me to reproduce your story in digital and potential retellings on other media. ( You retain rights to your own story regardless).
I do hope you will consider sharing with me, as well as the wider audience implicit in web and paper media. Each story is a small piece in a huge puzzle, a drop in an ocean of information on the subject. Still.. it may help others to understand and come to terms with their experiences and give us all a wider understanding of the picture as a whole.
Go on now.. click that reply button. Sidle over to the contact page and send me a little message. Really, I can't wait to hear from you. :)