all heard scary stories, some told around a campfire, some handed down
as family lore, some we read about, but those stories are seldom in the
first person. The story you are about to read happened to me; this is a
first-person account of a paranormal event.
My business was doing so well that I needed a little time away to regroup. My brother Bob invited me to stay for the weekend at his girlfriend Iris’ childhood home in Teaneck, New Jersey. Tragically, her mother died two months earlier, after a long and painful bout with cancer. At the reading of her mother’s will Iris found out her mother bequeathed the house to her.
Bob and Iris shared an apartment in New York City but decided to stay at the house in New Jersey on the weekends. Muggs, Bob’s beautiful Great Dane, came along. He was sweet as sugar and as big as a shed, everyone loved him.
I jumped in my car and sped off, glad to be on the road. Arriving at
dinnertime, Iris asked me to sit and have dinner. A welcome invitation,
hungry and tired, I sat down for some food and a catch-up. Muggs sat by my
side during dinner hoping something would fall on the floor during our
was then that Bob told me, Muggs, who was usually calm and playful, was
acting very jumpy since they arrived at the house. He went on to say
that Muggs stays at the house while he’s at work, but when Bob returns
home, the door jam to the front door, is scratched as if something
scared Muggs, and he was trying to escape.”
“What do you think is causing his behavior Bob, I asked? I’m not sure, Bob answered, but something is going on in this house that’s freaking all of us out.” Freaking all of you out! Would you like to expound on that statement, you’re making me nervous? Bob and Iris turned to me, we’ll talk tomorrow morning, Bob said. Iris and I will explain what’s been going on.” “This sounds eerie; you’re scaring me.” Fear clearly showing on my face.
Bob carried my suitcase upstairs while I continued my conversation with Iris. A short time later, growing tired I said goodnight and climbed the stairs to my room. Walking through the doorway into a dark bedroom with only light from a streetlamp nearby I turned to lay my sketchbooks down on a small table by the door. That’s when I saw the silhouette of a figure standing by the window. The image terrifies me. I let out a bloodcurdling scream, dropping my books on the floor, and leaping down a full flight of stairs in three jumps.
Bob looked up and exclaimed, “What the hell, I’ve never seen you move that fast, what happened?” When I told him about the figure, he and Iris looked at each other. What! Are you going to tell me why the energy in the house is so skewed? “Tomorrow at breakfast is all they said.”
With that, I cautiously walked back upstairs, turned on the light by the door, but saw nothing, so I proceeded to get ready for bed with Muggs by my side. When I crawled into bed, Muggs wanted to jump on the bed too, but he was so big I said, “Muggsy, no!” He resigned himself to sleeping next to me on the rug.
There was a digital clock on the night table, I checked it to be sure the alarm was off then fell into a deep sleep. In the middle of the night, I awoke to hear the alarm ring. Odd, I didn’t set the alarm. I sat up, feeling wide awake. “That’s weird I thought looking at the clock beside the bed.” The numbers read, 5:55 AM. A short while later, I fell back to sleep.
The next morning, during breakfast, I mentioned the strange incident to Bob and Iris. She looked up, alarmed, “What time did the alarm wake you from sleep, she asked?” I explained, I didn’t set the alarm, but it rang at 5:55 AM. She looked at Bob, Bob looked at her,” ”What, I asked again?” Why are you looking at each other like that? Tell me what is going on.
Iris turned to me and said, “Lu, that’s my mother’s room, she died in that room at exactly 5:55 AM.
I gasped, “Oh, My god, Iris, that’s bizarre?” She began to fill me in on the weird goings-on for the past few weekends. “My mother died after a tortuous, pain-filled week; I think she’s still here.” “Do you think that’s why Muggs seems so unsettled, his sixth sense has picked up her energy?” “I’m sure that has something to do with it Iris said, but there’s more, Muggs, and the cats are unsettled. Their body language conveys they’re on alert as if they see or hear something we can’t.”
The Sixth Sense
In addition to the five senses (sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing), dogs also possess a sixth sense — that “gut” feeling we get when something doesn’t feel right. The difference, though, is that dogs are more open to trusting what they feel and acting on those feelings. Accordingly, while most people’s minds analyze what’s going on and deny the possibility that auroras or spirits exist. “Dogs are remarkable creatures, with senses that far exceed a human’s,” explains AKC Dr. Burch.
Iris began recounting an incident that happened a week earlier. “As a flight attendant, I needed to arrive at JFK by 10:00 on the morning of my flight. My flight would take off shortly after, one hour to get ready, one hour of travel time from New Jersey to JFK, I set my alarm for 8:00 AM. The next morning I awoke to the alarm, but it seemed early, still dark outside. When I checked the alarm, the clock showed 5:55 AM, the time of my mother’s death. Now, you’re awakened from a deep sleep at 5:55 AM, but you didn’t even set the alarm.” “Iris, that’s terrifying.”
Bob chimed in, informing me about an incident that happened a month ago. He began, “an old friend came to visit me from England who is very sensitive to energy. She stopped, dead in her tracks, as she walked in the front door, turned to me and said, “I can’t go in this house, Bob, something isn’t right here. There’s a powerful sensation of sadness and negative energy so intense I feel it just entering the front door. “Bob, please take me back to my hotel.”
That night Bob, Iris, and I went out for dinner, returning about midnight. They told me to keep a small light on which should change the energy in that room. I slowly walked upstairs, but before entering the room, I turned to find Muggs. Come, Muggsy!! I walked into the room and patted the bed. Muggs looked at me, bewildered. I said,” you can sleep with me on the bed tonight, sweet boy.” He didn’t care why, he was happy to accommodate me, and I was delighted to have the big lug on the bed, all 225lbs of him. I couldn’t sleep, though, until I heard Bob and Iris come up the stairs to their room.
The next morning at breakfast, they proceeded to tell me all the stories of the weirdness in that house. The cat’s hair standing on end while standing on its toes staring toward the basement door, transfixed. Muggs scratching the door jam as if to claw his way out. Iris’ band members, who, upon going to the basement to practice, came flying up the stairs citing a strange feeling in the studio area. One band member told Bob it was icy cold in the studio downstairs where Iris and the band practice while other parts of the basement were really warm.
That was it, time to go. My relaxing weekend was turned on its head. I can tell you, by the time they finished those stories, I was happy to be going home.
"Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate?” My Bio...