So begins a lifetime of experiences beginning with my mother. A little background on her history...Second to the youngest of nine children all being raised by my single parent grandmother. My grandfather, you see, died in a car crash leaving my grandmother to fend for herself and their nine children.
Wanting to be closer to her family, as my grandfather and his family were from Ohio, my grandmother moved her and her family to Kentucky to elicit help from her side of the family...
However, not before getting a hitchhiker to tag along on the way.
Now to tell my mother's story. As a very small child of around 3, her imagination could have ran wild, but I will let you decide for yourself (there were her older siblings as witnesses).
A three level rented home was still small for a family of now ten. But they dealt with what they had. To pass time the children would play together or seperately depending on their ages. Usually in 3's...The 3 older ones hung out together, the three middle children and then the three youngest. My mother was a third of the latter.
Sitting on the floor of the main floor at the foot a tall staircase, my mother, her older sister of 5 yrs old and younger brother of 2 yrs old, took turns playing with various toys. At the very top of the stairs (no one was upstairs at the time, for the older kids were outside and my grandmother was doing dishes) a large, red, hard ball described as I would understand it to be, a pool ball, bounced down the steps from nowhere, came to a rest in the center of the children, and then without volition rolled off to a dark corner of the stairs where it then disappeared.
Upon inspection, for they wanted to play with the ball, the ball was nowhere to be found in the entire house. It couldn't have just disappeared from a corner of the room...could it?
And that began a lifelong series of experiences ranging from dark shadow people standing at the foot of or next to the bed, to door knobs jiggling with no one there, to doors opening and shutting on their own, and covers being slid off in the night....but not before the ankles were tugged.
At times, especially in the basement, one could feel eyes staring and a feeling of being "rushed upon", like a pressure was pressing you toward the stairs to leave. And the lights would blink on and off at times....but other times would be as steady as new fixtures.
The REAL experiences began when the family moved to Kentucky...in a log home...built on Indian burial ground. But those stories as well as my own personal ones will come later.
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