Stella, you ain’t all that. Any ghost can dump salt and pepper shakers on tables at C.C. Cohen in the middle of the night. But how about ones who leave a trail of cigarette smoke and crank up Zydeco music in the middle of the night? Finish painting their own portraits? Or cause smoke detectors to beep – just once?
Whether you’re a believer or not, you have to admit that these four firsthand experiences are awfully hard to explain.
Written by a West End resident who wishes to remain anonymous – she doesn’t want folks to think she’s wacky. Believe us, she’s not!
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| Photographic proof: Helen pays a visit! |
Right after I bought my house in 2004, the son and daughter of the previous owner came to visit me. They live out of state now, but wanted to meet the person who would have their childhood home. Their mother, Helen, had passed away just a few weeks before I purchased the home.
After talking for a few moments and realizing how excited I was about my new home, the daughter teared up and exclaimed, “Our mother has hand-picked you! She just wanted to be there, in her house, and smoke her cigarettes. And she has chosen you to be the one to have her home.”
I found that very sweet but, also, a wee bit disconcerting. I had already pondered how easy it had been for me to acquire the house. I just walked in and said “I’ll take it” and it happened seamlessly.
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| Julie Shaw wasn’t alone at Aphrodite Gallery. |
Time For You To Go
When I moved here at the end of 2004, I would be up in my bedroom and I would feel this ghost. She was female. I could see the tail end of her dress or nightgown as she’d go by me. It happened about a dozen times. She was always on my left.
She didn’t scare me, but finally I said out loud, “It’s time for you to leave. You need to go into the light. You don’t belong here. It isn’t your home anymore.” And I haven’t seen her since.
Awhile later, Margie Cissell, who lives a few streets over, asked me if I knew about the ghost in my house. (Editor’s note: More on this below!)
I had a psychic visit me awhile back and she told me that she couldn’t spend the night in my house because too many ghosts in LowerTown were pulling at her. So I had to take her out to a hotel near the mall.
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| A case of the vapors on Fifth Street! |
Where There’s a Smoke Detector, There’s a Ghost
My brother lived in Julie Shaw’s house long before she bought it. It used to have four apartments. His downstairs neighbor was Mary Duncan Deihl.
She had a trust fund but would always borrow $5 from my brother before her money would come at the end of the month. She had very long fingernails. She’d put them all together and peck on his door seven times, so he always knew her knock.
Around 1985, she moved into the Irvin Cobb Hotel and soon died. My brother was getting ready for work one day and he heard that same knock. Is scared the bejesus out of him when he opened the door and no one was there.
She then started opening the refrigerator and getting into his freezer. One time he was napping and he could feel her coming too close to him. He yelled at her and could hear her take off.
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| Multiple unsolved mysteries make the Fitzpatricks believers. |
Fitzpatrick House Home to Mischievous Visitors
My husband bought this house in 1957, and I’ve lived here during the entire 42 years of our marriage. There are at least two ghosts here. I’ve heard them talking once, but my husband has heard them several times. They’re usually laughing. They’re very happy ghosts.
Not long after I moved in, my husband was painting a portrait of a girl who had been killed in an accident. He was painting it from a photograph. He was almost finished, but having trouble with a particular area, so he took a break to walk the dog.
When he came back, he asked if I had been working on the portrait. I told him I had not been near the portrait. Then he said, "Well, it’s finished." He was convinced someone had finished it while he was gone. I don’t know – maybe it was the girl herself.
That was the first of numerous mysterious incidents, but I’ll just tell you about a few.
