Thursday, March 26, 2015


I saw this cartoon on Queen Mary Paranormal "Beyond the Veil" posted by Jennifer Tyler and had the inspiration for my blog this week! Thanks for posting this Jennifer!

This is very funny but rang true with me. I was reminded of the time that my son Chris and I had just such a funny experience with poltergeists while cleaning out my deceased friend Paul's estate.This was among the many incidents that occurred while being the executor of my friend's estate that I wrote a book, Estate of Horror.  It was in July 4th weekend 2009 when we were confronted with something so crazy and unusual that to this day it remains unexplained.




The basement was well on its way to being cleared out - which had been no easy feat - but there were still some small pockets of clutter and boxes on the shelves to go through. I decided we would only spend an hour in the basement and spend the rest of the day upstairs. We had the Purple Heart Charity coming the next day, Friday, and we planned to give them forty boxes of items, the maximum you could donate at one time.

      (We don't know if this is a face that we captured among the books. It would be a    likely place for my friend's spirit to appear if it were an anomaly as he was a huge book collector. What is strange is that it does resemble my deceased friend). 

We made our way into the basement and Chris shook his head. “I was hoping some white wizard would have waived his magic staff and all the rest of this would be cleared out,” he said.

(Back of Paul's basement -right side)

“No such luck, Chris, Gandolf has better things to do. We’ll have to do it the mortal way and get our hands dirty. Oh, man, look at this place!”  I walked and saw slides around the room in clusters, all over the floor. Although there had been a few things left on the floor, I knew that Chris and I hadn’t left it that way.

Chris surveyed the basement and saw a trail of slides leading to the sump pump drain. 

                                                 (Trail of slides)

“Oh, for crying out loud, look at all of this. It’s been trashed.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “What’s this supposed to mean?”
We wanted to be done as soon as possible so we could be upstairs the rest of the day.
“I’m in no mood to start sweeping the floor again. Just leave it for now.”

Chris helped me pack some boxes of books that they library didn’t want. When he picked up a large book from a shelf, some 8”x 10” black and white photos fell out from between the pages.

“Hey Mom, look at these.” He held up some pictures of Paul in a swimsuit and in a business suit. “What was he, a model or something?”

“Yes, he was,” I answered.

Paul had a long history of modeling that started in college. Shortly before his death, he told me that he had posed for a photographer friend of his for some new portrait shots and did some modeling for an art class.

“He was in good shape for a guy his age,” Chris said

“Best shape of his life and he dies of a heart attack. Go figure.” I couldn’t get over the irony of it all.

Just then, a cassette tape flew through the air and hit the wooden magazine rack near Mr. Jaeger’s workbench.

“Is that you, Paul?” I called out. “Are your parents here too?” 

We hadn’t brought the tape recorder because we planned to get the work done and leave. Now I regretted that we hadn’t. There was an eerie silence. Nothing happened.

“Ok, well we have to get back to work,” I shouted to no one in particular. This is nuts. I thought.

Bang! A slide hit the metal cabinet. 

  (Slide thrown to floor with a sock. The ghosts really have a sense of humor!)

“I’m getting pretty tired of picking up after you,” I said.

Bang! Something hit the cement floor opposite from us. 

“What is this? Do you become brats in the afterlife?” I felt like I was dealing with some mischievous three-year-old.

“Mom, look there’s a metal shovel in the bucket over there.” 
We walked over to the bucket and saw a long-handled garden shovel inside it. 
“How the hell did it get in there?” Chris asked.

(This was an unnerving discovery seeing such a heavy object tossed into the bucket by the poltergeist).

I looked at him and grinned sarcastically. “Are you forgetting that we’re in the frigging fourth dimension of the Twilight Zone?” I asked.

“Right I forgot!”

If you want to use your energy to lift something that heavy why don’t you pick up after yourselves?” I called out. “This place is a mess.” I was angry now. “Yeah, what do you care…you’re dead.”

We picked up a few boxes to take upstairs when suddenly we noticed something different by the staircase. Every single slide and object that had been lying on the floor was gone.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Chris exclaimed.

“Oh my God, Chris.  Look!” I pointed to the shelf near the staircase. The slides were now neatly stacked, one on top of the other, in three piles.

“No freaken’ way,” Chris said shaking his head.

We put the boxes down and looked around. Everything cleared off the floor towards the sump pump, too. It was astonishing!

slide thrown on the sump pump)

“Thank you,” I said to the invisible cleanup crew. “Now, why don’t you clean up the other side too?”

“I think you’re pushing it, Mom,” Chris said as he made his way upstairs again.

“If they are all sooo powerful,” I gestured around with my hands as I followed behind him, “they can clean up the rest of the mess they made.”

A few minutes later we returned to the basement and were talking about what to finish bringing up, when we stopped in our tracks.  Every single item that had covered the floor near the wardrobe closets was gone. I looked around and saw some of the objects on the Franklin stove—a blue hanger, a box of tissue and a Christmas ornament in the shape of a dove.

(Objects that got picked up)

On the short metal table near the closets, the slides were neatly stacked in piles.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and started to laugh. Chris pulled off his Phillies baseball cap and scratched his head.

 (I know many are sensitive about mentioning "orbs" but I wanted to include this     photo to show the area where the poltergeist activity had occurred). 

“Ok, they really listened to you, Mom.”

I was dumbfounded. They had heard me and did what I asked. 

“No one’s ever going to believe this,” I said.


As with writing any type of paranormal book, there are the skeptics questioning that these things don't really happen. My goal in writing my book was to share my experience with others who identify with this and have also lived through their own supernatural phenomenon. It is not my goal in life to convert skeptics. They have their opinions and I have mine.I only ask that people remain open minded and not readily dismiss what they do not understand.  
As Shakespeare once wrote,
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy". 
Hamlet (1.5.167-8), Hamlet to Horatio

Now I wonder if the ghosts do windows?