Hello! I wanted to start by saying I had a sort of close call today. I have a privacy curtain hanging from a curtain rod on our stairway. Well, I started walking up the stairs, heard a noise, turned around and the giant curtain rod fell. If it was even one second earlier, it would have hit me on the head. Then, while I was picking it up, my mom accidentally dropped the newspaper, almost hitting me in the head. Now, of course, that one wouldn’t have hurt, it was just funny that it happened right after the one that would have hurt.
OK, that little story has nothing to do with the title of the blog post today, so I will get into spooky good reads. First off, for the millionth time, if you don’t believe in ghosts, then maybe stop reading and don’t comment on how you think it’s nonsense.
I have a lot of books about ghosts, but there are two that I absolutely love that will give me the creeps every time. The one is “The Haunted,” by Robert Curran. It’s a true story about a family who had to deal with evil spirits. Ed and Lorraine Warren investigated this one. The names may be familiar; they investigated a lot of high-profile hauntings. The house is located where my parents used to live, and my dad drove me by it a long time ago. I recommend reading this even if you don’t believe, because it’s a great book.
The other book is “Ghosts” by Hans Holzer. Again, that name might be familiar to you. It’s a compilation of all of his investigations. The book is HUGE, and it’s fun to read it late at night, especially this time of year. My sister bought me this one a long time ago, and I still read it all the time.
Speaking of ghosts, here comes today bonus ghost story. This one will be short, but I hope you enjoy it. My first apartment was in Lynchburg, Va., and it’s on land once owned by Thomas Jefferson. His getaway, Poplar Forest, was so close to me that I could have walked there if I wanted to. I did visit there a few times, and yep, yep, yep, it’s super haunted. Anyway, the land, not the apartment itself, is what’s haunted there. Every now and then, I would see a boy, maybe about 12 years old, walking through the apartment. And when I say “through,” I mean he would come in through the wall in the kitchen, go across the living room and leave through the wall there. He was definitely an imprint, as it was the same path all the time. But that doesn’t make it any less unsettling, especially since he was a child. The first time it happened, I was lying on the floor right next to where he popped in, and it terrified me. I didn’t live there too long, so I only saw him a few times.
Until next time!
Frazzled Daisy 