Things that Go Bump in the Night

Jordaina Robinson, paranormal writer and former WWK blogger, wrote about her paranormal experiences in May. I’m in the middle of writing my paranormal mystery, TOASTING FEAR, and just like Jordaina, I’ve experienced two definitive paranormal events. One is private, but I’ll tell you about the other.

Just so you don’t think I’m crazy, my boyfriend, at the time, JD, who is now my husband of 27 years, went through the experience with me. That mutual experience for me verifies its validity. Of course, JD and I may both be crazy, so continue reading at your own risk. Although psychologists document group behavior and mob mentality, I assure you that the experience was much like the white elephant sitting in the corner of the room that we tried our best to ignore.

The paranormal events occurred in JD’s rented farm house located in the countryside of York County, PA, also home to Rehmyer’s Hollow, the setting of a “hex murder” of a Powwow doctor in 1928. (For more information see: http://www.hexmurder.com/ ) I drove through Rehmyer’s Hollow once. The forest was dense there, the trees growing together over the road, creating the effect of driving through a tunnel. Combined with hilly terrain that blocks the view of the next curve, it forces drivers to a crawl; the eerie atmosphere was claustrophobic. I never went back there again. Horror writer, Brian Keene, lived in the area and set a few of his novels nearby.

Paranormal phenomena seem to afflict the area. I have wondered if the German heritage of the original settlers caused the preponderance of paranormal activity. The German concept of Schadenfreude, deriving pleasure from the misfortune of others, seems evil to me. Schadenfreude is derived from two words, “schaden” (harm) and “freude” (joy). If taken further back in time, “schaden” meant scath’d, a term John Milton used in “Paradise Lost” (line 613). Yikes, no wonder I moved to Virginia!

We were in our mid-twenties, and I was in graduate school at the time at GWU, located about two hours away in Washington, D. C. I’d often stay at the house for the weekend and then we’d get up early on Monday morning. JD went to work, and I drove back to school. As months passed, I started to feel watched while in the farm house. The first time I remember being aware of this sensation, I was in the bathroom looking into the mirror. My image was the only one I saw, but unease washed over me.

After that initial experience, I started feeling a presence. Lying in bed before sleep overcame me, I felt movement running up and down the exposed side of my body, like a chilly breeze exerting the slight pressure of a roller. I didn’t say anything to my future spouse. Like anyone experiencing strange phenomena, I assumed my experience was singular. But then, things changed.

One Monday morning while we still lay in bed, the front door slammed. That particular door stuck, which forced everyone to slam it shut or the lock wouldn’t catch. At first, I assumed my boyfriend’s roommate was coming home early to get ready for work after his weekend stay at his girlfriend’s place. After hearing the door slam, I heard no other sounds, such as his moving about the house, climbing the stairs to his bedroom or the running shower. I still didn’t say anything. But, after a few mornings of hearing the door slam around six a.m. without the roommate appearing, I asked JD about the door. He didn’t say much, but later, away from the house, he explained and described that he too felt watched, felt cold hands running over his body when in bed and that he avoided the bathroom except when absolutely necessary. We didn’t come to any conclusions then.

One day I arrived at the house before JD got off work. I let myself in, sat on the couch and started to read. Nothing outwardly happened, but I felt very unwelcome, hastened off the couch and escaped out the door. I waited outside until JD arrived home. He asked why I hadn’t waited inside and I explained my feelings, which he understood without question.

We were sitting on that same couch when JD asked me to marry him. We became engaged in May and married in September, when he moved from the house to our rented townhouse in the Northern Virginia suburbs of Washington, D. C. All that summer while preparing to marry and move, we felt significant changes in whatever spirit lingered there. A feeling of remorse and loneliness persisted, as if the ghost regretted haunting us and wished that we would stay.

We later learned that the house had been built by a farming family in the early twentieth century. After the husband died and the children moved, the widow lived and died in the house alone. I can only assume that she was showing her displeasure at out immorality, but once engaged her judgmental attitude changed, too late, for we were already gone.

What is your story of things that go bump in the night?