Jenny

I've known for quite some time that I have an extra kid in my home. In all honesty, for at least the last four years maybe even five. And this child is unique in every conceivable way, might I add.

The child isn't your average, run-of-the-mill kid either. She is cute. Blond, curly hair. A giggle that makes you giggle as well. Mischievous as can be at times. And she can even break your heart every so often. Or surprise you by running past the corner of your eye, naked as a jay bird.

See, she is not of this world. At least not any longer. She is no more than about three years old, by her height, and her voice. She is a ghost/spirit. And every so often, both here in my current home, as well as at our old dwelling, she makes her presence known to myself, as well as to two of my children (namely the older ones).

Over the years, she has cried from loneliness, called out to "Mommy" and "Daddy" (in which my ever-so skeptic of a husband too has heard), we have heard her footsteps throughout the homes, I have endured more than once, the opening and shutting of my screen doors. And as of late, the pounding on my heavy doors to get our attention.

Does she scare me or my children? No. The three of us know she is here and that she is lonely, and only seeking attention and love. Why she remains here of course is still a mystery. And to this day, I credit her for forcing my youngest (while at the old place) to stay remaining upside down on the couch (as she NEVER had trouble of getting up before or since) until I yelled for whomever it was to let her go.

I've been told by someone's wife, who is a self-proclaimed sensitive/intuitive (and whom shall remain nameless, being that I do not have their written permission to post either of their names) that the little girl's name is Jenny. And that Jenny, for some reason is attracted to being with me and my family. There is something that she likes about us. Myself primarily.

We've been her company and her family for all this time. I have tried talking to Jenny before and asking her what she needed or wanted. I told her that there was a better place than here for her, and that I'm sure that her REAL parents were waiting for her to go home to the light.

But that all was to no avail. For Jenny is still with us and still the prankster she has always been. Though, she stayed quietly within the veil for sometime, only to recently start up her antics once again. This time, not just with me, but with the older two as well. While at times (like when I was in the shower yesterday and heard the LOUD banging on a door) it can be a bit unnerving and unsettling, my kids are getting used to the strange and unknown things happening with no just cause.

We are all taking the strange and unusual in stride. My kids don't tell many friends about their unique home, and their unique life. Which to me is smart. As a kid, I lost so many friends over my ability to feel, hear and occasionally see ghosts. And these days, Jenny is a part of our family. The only really good part about having a fourth, "adopted" child in this manner is that I don't have to pay a dime to support her.

Fast Feet

"Things happen for a reason"...What a cliche. It's certainly been around for many, upon many years. I grew up hearing it, as did my parents, their parents before them, and now my children hear it.

But there are some things that do happen, that have no reason behind it. There are no explanations. No way of figuring out why it happened.

Take for instance, the time that I was twelve years old. My mother had recently passed away, just about a month before. Of course, it was just myself and my father at the time. He was in a very deep state of depression and grief. I was also grieving, in my own way, being my father was so bad. But I didn't 'show' mine. And I did what I could to go on with life as normally as I could for my situation.

Late one night, say about 2:30, or 3:00 in the morning, I was unusually thirsty. This is not a normal thing for me. Not then, not now these days (unless I'm sick, I don't get up in the middle of the night for anything). But on this particular very late night (or very early morning if you wish to say) I had this huge urge to get a drink.

The way the kitchen was set up, and it's route of entry varied. You could go from the main hall that leads to the bedrooms and the hall bath, to the living room. Or take a shorter cut by going in to the side hall that goes in to the sink and refrigerator side of the kitchen and where the door was to go out to the back yard and back porch.

Needless to say, I decided to take the back hall that lead to outside in the back of the house. It was an eat-in, full kitchen. As I entered through the side hall, I had to pass the fridge on my right, the sink on the left that was directly parallel to the fridge. Then, pass the stove that was on the fridge's side, but was separated by a small counter and pantry (where the spices were kept). Finally, on the left, at the main counter area, just before getting to the dining table area, was where the glasses and plastic cups were. All the fine china and dining glasses were in the main pantry for safe keeping.

After getting my glass, I went back to the refrigerator and decided to get some milk.  As I did, for some unearthly reason, I felt like I was being watched, and not very alone in the kitchen. Even though, I know for a fact that my Dad was in bed, sleeping. As was the cat. The light to the living room's fish tank was on. And no one else but myself and my father were in that house.

As best as I could, I tried to ignore what I felt and sensed. I poured my milk in to my glass. Then like a good girl, I placed the milk (with the top on, thank you!) back in to its spot of the refrigerator. Then, I started walking towards the table in the dining area. Mind you that also, the stove range light was on as well.

No sooner that I had reached the table, I really and strongly felt like someone was there with me, and was watching me. So, I placed my glass upon the table, and the slowly, I turned around. What I had seen next, literally froze me still with fear.

From the point of where I was at the refrigerator, I had seen glowing feet. From ankle, down to toes. They were an ashen gray in color. And what struck me most I think was the fact that they were "lit up".  And they remained that way the entire time that I had watched them.

These feet came darting at me. Walking in a very quick pace. They never stopped. Never came at me as if to attack me. In fact, they rounded the corner of the stove, turning to the right. They walked swiftly past me. As soon as the feet struck the partition between the living room and the kitchen, before my very eyes, they disappeared.

When they vanished in to thin air, they didn't leave in a mist-like fashion. They didn't make like they were walking up steps. They just went. Poof! Gone, no more. Just as quick as they came before my eyes, they left with the same lightening speed.

But even after all of these years, I can still describe what they looked like. They as I stated earlier, were an ashen gray color. The feet were "heavy set", as if the person was overweight. There was a visible curvature, like a "down grade"-look on a highway sign. The toes were "meaty" or fat. Also, there was a crooked toe to one of the feet.

And I have that very same crooked toe. Same toe, too. Just the opposite foot.

Animals and the Paranormal

Do you have a cat or a dog? Have they acted 'funny', especially at night (or ANY time of day, really)? I'm not talking basic, everyday antics and silliness. I'm speaking of all-out psychotic-type activity.

Severe scratching at the door, wall, window or carpet. Non-stop pacing and whining or mewing. The animal's inability to stay in one certain room for a variable length of time (less than three minutes). Growling/barking/hissing at 'nothing but thin air'.

These are supposed traits of animals that are experiencing psychic phenomenon with another plane of existence. With the ghostly world.

When I was a teenager, about fifteen, my dad and my then-step-mother were living together in the house where I had my very first experience. She was deaf, and so she had added to the family, a beautiful Golden-Red Retriever dog named Ginger. That (grown) puppy and I fell instantly in love with one another and were not very inseparable after we got to know one another and they (the dog and my step-mom) moved in with myself, my dad and my Nana.

Not too long after the adjustment period, Ginger started displaying strange characteristics. She wanted to chill out with me pretty much anywhere I was within the home or outside, even. No matter where I was. With the exception of one particular area.

My room (at that time). By then, I was in the bedroom that was straight across from the bathroom. It was the smallest of all three rooms of the home. And it was where my Grandmother resided, and my Nana slept when she would visit in the days before the loss of my mom and grandma.

Be it day or night, Ginger could NEVER stand being in my room. It didn't matter what time it was. It didn't matter why I was there. She could never be coaxed in to staying in the room with me. Not by my self, my step-mother, my father. No one. She would instantly shake and whimper. Then, if the door was closed, she would scratch frivolously at it. Until someone unlatched the handle and then Ginger would go flying out the door and hide in my parent's room, or go behind the couch in the living room.

Also, I noted, she would stare at one particular area of that room. The corner right at the door way of the entrance of the bedroom, and where the right corner of the closet was. It was the same exact area that I always felt "creeped out" by.

Can animals really sense the "unknown" of another world from which our energy transcends time and space? Do they have a sixth sense as us humans claim to have, to feel, hear, and see people from another realm or plane of existence?

Personally, I think that they certainly can, and do have the ability. And being that they are animals, they are not restricted by society's rules of what is Politically Correct and real (or not real). I have been able to experience with my own eyes, the fear and awe an animal can (and does) have where ghosts, spirits, and hauntings are concerned.

Ginger, I found out several years later, after my dad's divorce, had finally passed away. She had to be humanely euthanized, due to severe medical problems. Problems, that if they were allowed to continue to attack her, would have made her life unbearable and extremely painful.

But, she was my protector. Well, except when it came to my bedroom. Then, she was just a fraidi-cat.

Children and the Paranormal World

Often times, when small children come to their parents, claiming that they have seen something that is not "normal", or hear odd noises, such as scratching, footsteps, or voices from an indescribable place, parents often tell said child that they were just dreaming, hearing things, or having an over-active imagination.

But when is it TRULY one of those types of situations above, and when is it REALLY something more than just what "meets the eyes/ears"? Or any other senses, for that matter?

I remember as a small child (speaking of ages eight, when my experiences began, to up around twelve years of age), I was just too plain scared to say anything, for fear of not being believed. I said something ONE time, only to be told I was dreaming or imagining things. When I *knew* that there was more to it, than just my imagination and Dream-like fantasy areas of my brain being in overdrive.

These days, I still have experiences with the Other Side. Believe me, or not. That is up to each individual reader. But so do two of my three children at this point. One of them being ten, the other just turning nine last month.

I've heard them speak of voices, seeing apparitions (either in part, like an arm, or whole and full-bodied spirits), hearing steps and seeing a door close when no wind was around.

In those times that my children come running to me, to tell me that they experienced an 'odd' occurrence, I listen intently, making sure that they aren't 'rushing' through their story, then give my take on what may have happened and what to do (or not do, be it the case).

I'm not one to just brush it off (so to speak) or feel that it's just their imagination running wild. Why? Because I have seen with all three of my children, the wonders of their openness to what may lay on another parallel that we really have not much understanding or knowledge of. Since they were babies, I noted "strange" giggles, facial expressions and reactions that my (then) babies had. They were not just gas, relieving themselves in their diapers, and "basic communication" with what would be thought of as an "imaginary" friend. I really, and truly felt that they were communicating with those that even I, a believer of such things, could not see or hear.

So, yes, I do believe that children, especially of the smaller variety, can see and hear (maybe even physically experience as well) ghosts (or spirits, if that's your name for them) more so than us adults can.

Why? Because they are innocent creatures, untainted (at that point of youth) by societies (and parental) views of ghosts/spirits/hauntings/Paranormal Subjects not being "real" or of worldly acceptance. We, as their parents (most of us, anyways) have taught our children that it's "all in their head" and that other people will think that you are "crazy" for believing and talking of such things. Which, at least in my case, in my home, is not the case.

It all honestly depends on each individual, their upbringing, personal conviction, their belief system and their personal acceptance of such matters. And how they feel to teach the future generation of society in the subject, as well.

Steps In The Attic

As always, with every great story, there is a beginning. So, I shall start from the point of childhood, at eight years old.

My Maternal Grandmother had passed away early in the year of 1984 (I was born in late 1976). She was a woman that took no crap from anyone. She, at the end of her life suffered with a heart condition, blindness due to Glaucoma, and Diabetes. She passed days after I last saw her outside her ICU window.

In her better years, Grandma loved to wear those thick-heeled, four-inch pumps. Everywhere. When she passed, she had a pair on for her funeral. This was to be the second "big" loss in my life of those that I dearly loved, and were close to.

Not long after her burial at sea, and us trying to lead a life without my Grandma living with us (or being alive period), I noticed odd occurrences. Primarily at night. Rustling, sounds like mice or other small animals roaming in the attic above me.

Mind you, NONE of us in all the years we (mainly my Dad and I, along with my mother who passed in 1989) went up in to the attic. I never once can recall that door EVER being opened.

One night, as I lay in bed to rest up for yet another school day, approximately three, maybe four weeks after Grandma died, I heard something familiar to my ears. Yes! Familiar. It sounded like her SHOES. Those thick-heeled pumps could never be mistaken. They had a sound that was unique to the sense of hearing of all their own.

It was a hard thumping 'click'. And that click was going slowly at first, only to pick up pace with my ever-faster beating heart. Finally, it became a fast-pace walk back and forth. It was almost like the person walking and pacing had a worried sound to them.

This walking noise came at a time where I wasn't asleep, but I wasn't awake, either. I was in bedtime-limbo. I was drifting off when that first thick-heeled click came about. Of course, I then lay wide awake from the fear and the constant back and forth movement of the feet, as well as the wood underneath them creaking with each hurried step.

For an hour, I hid in silence as I listened. Finally, I fell asleep. But never for years and years (even after my own mother's death), did I tell a single person, not even my father, what I had witnessed that fateful night.

From that point on, the strange happenings in my house got more frequently active. And I lived with it on my own. Then again, that is a tail for another time.