I seriously LOVE when my readers share some of their spooky stories with me. Not only because I get the chance to hear about great ghost stories, but also because first person stories are always to cool! They validate all of the rest of us who have experienced similar things in our lives.
These stories are from a wonderful lady, Terrie, who has been my friend and reader for a long time!
When my husband, Rog, was a young boy, his family lived across from the cemetery. It was his mother’s favorite home. Over the years they moved in and out of that house three times. From time to time, they would have visitors and I don’t mean human ones, even though they had a lot of those kind too.
As a matter of fact, the reason they were able to move back into that house so many times, was because the other renters didn’t like the “unique” visitors.
There was one visitor in particular who liked to spend a lot of time there and Rog named him George. Rog’s dad, Art, did not like George because of one trick he liked to play on him. George would ring the door bell and quickly peek into the window on the door. When Art would go to the door, George would leave. Art once told me that they had several ghosts that would come and go when they lived in that house, but his family didn’t mind at all, and the ghosts weren’t harming or scaring them. When George was visible, he appeared to them as an older, blonde teenager.
George was partial to Rog and even went with Rog when he joined the Army. Rog was only seventeen when he joined, and he was stationed in Germany. Once when Rog’s group was on field exercises, they were in mini tanks. Rog and a couple others were sent in a different direction than the rest. A plane flew too low and crashed into the main group and all the others were killed. During that incident, Rog saw a certain flash of light. He knew, from experience, that flash meant his mother had seen what happened. He immediately wrote a letter to her that evening and discovered later that she had also written him a letter that day asking if he was alright. The letters had crossed in the mail. Concerned, Rog sent George to tell her he was fine. Rog’s mother later sent a letter saying she received his message.
George also went with Rog to Viet Nam. Rog was an engineer and one of the jobs that he did was mine sweeping. One day he saw the certain light. He turned to the light, smiled and waved. He knew his mom had seen what he was doing. He sent George to tell her he was fine. Before George got to her, she had asked another son, “What is a box type thing attached to a handle and you move back and forth over the ground?” He told her it sounded like a mine sweeper. George appeared then and told her Rog was fine. She wrote him a letter saying she saw him smiling and waving. After that, Rog was careful to keep himself closed from her, so she didn’t have to see what he was doing and worry. George continued to follow Rog wherever he moved.
When Rog married his first wife, George protected his family, especially his two daughters. George hung out with whoever he thought needed him the most.
One time, his eldest daughter had a friend staying over. She had told him about George, but he didn’t believe in ghosts. During the night, he heard noises and started downstairs. Midway down, he heard and then saw toys move. Balls bouncing, little cars rolling all over the living room. He turned around and went back upstairs. He became a ghost believer that night.
George still visits Rog’s daughters from time to time, but mostly hangs out with us, and still loves playing tricks. He loves to hide things. Years ago, I had taken classes to get an armed security license. After I completed the classes and passed the test, I put my books on a shelf. I then took classes to become a licensed Private Investigator. One day I wanted to look something up in my one of my security books, and they were nowhere to be found. We looked everywhere, on and off all day, but no books. Since I really didn’t need it, we decided to stop looking. A few weeks later, guess what showed up, right where they belonged? Yep, my books.
Rog’s favorite pocket knife turned up missing one day. We looked everywhere, and it was nowhere to be found. We knew George had hidden it, and even after asking him nicely to return it, he didn’t. Many, many months later, Rog found it in the strangest place. We had had a tornado do a lot of damage to our home a few years back. The winds tore up half our home. One of the things I replaced was a free-standing cabinet that went over the toilet.
When Rog got ready to put it together, there was his knife. It was between the box and the plastic wrap that was around the box. There were no holes or tears in the plastic. It was as if it was wrapped that way when it was packaged. It was definitely his knife.
George went through a period of adjusting the thermostat. He would set it from one extreme to the other. I explained to him why he shouldn’t be doing that, and he stopped. George likes to tease the dogs too. We watch them quite a bit just staring and tilting their heads from side to side. We know it’s George.
One day I was washing dishes and also looking out the window. Sitting on the corner rail of the deck was a blonde-headed boy. He just looked at me and smiled, then he disappeared. Ever since then, I get the feeling his name is Kevin, not George, and he appeared to me as a child of around ten years old. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a second ghost hanging around.
Things are always turning up missing. We just tell George we know he’s playing games and usually a few days later, well sometimes a few weeks later, they turn up. Sometimes he returns them where they belong or in the strangest places.
Several times a day, we hear what sounds like a box or something being dropped onto the front porch, but when we get there, there’s nothing there.
There is also something that happened that we really can’t explain. We can’t even blame it on George. A few years ago, we had just gone to bed, so we were both awake. Right outside our bedroom window a train went by. It was so loud it hurt our ears and so close that it rattled the windows and shook the house. We don’t live near railroad tracks. There has never been tracks near here. The nearest tracks are twenty to twenty-five miles away.
I am so grateful that Terrie shared her stories and I have to admit that I really would like to know who George (or Kevin) is and why he decided to attach himself to Rog. I love that he’s stayed around and become part of the family. Thanks Terrie – these were great!