There Are No Monsters

I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe that I ever have. Even when I see faces in the mirror or feel rustling across my skin, I still don't believe. I don't believe in ghosts, but I believe in a spiritual world that is interconnected with ours. I believe that beings from this supernatural plane will reach out to the physical world, manifesting in ways that leave impressions on our minds. They can't hurt us, but they can definitely make us remember.

The Bathroom Mirror

In high school, our humanities teacher took us to the old downtown library for a geneaology project. You may have heard of this library in Evansville, IN called Willard Library. It's hauntings have been on episodes of Ghost Hunter, several ghost cam streams, and hundreds of visitors a year wanting to get a peek at the residential entities.

Our teacher gave us an assignment to create our family trees based on the immigration and historical archives the library specializes in. My family had kept plenty of records of our history, so I hardly had to do a thing for my project. Which meant that for an hour on Fridays, I got to hang out and make mischief, and I did.

As the students all would make our way to the library, we'd scare each other with chilly tales of ghosts and gossip about how so-and-so and his brother saw the ghost for real. We'd laugh it off but would become more silent and serious as we approched the huge front doors. I would play tiny pranks on people.

I'd move their journals and folders when their backs were turned. I'd throw small rocks to make it sounds like someone was behind you. My personal favorite was when I hid on the other side of a bookshelf and slowly pushed books out the other side. I heard a girl say, "Yeah, really funny." But when I heard here run around the side, I hid from sight and looked at her shock and horror at no one being there. On the way home, we laughed at her insistance that something was knocking books off the shelves.

I was trying to find a bathroom one afternoon while the other students were studying. The librarian said the upstairs toilets were out of order, and I would need to use the staff bathroom in the basement. I headed downstairs and walked into the empty bathroom. While I was washing my hands, I looked up into the mirror and swung around in horror. Nothing was behind me. I looked back to the mirror and didn't see what had been there a moment before. I can only describe it as a inky black void hovering just a few inches to my left. To this day, I have no possible explanation to what I had seen. But after I sprinted back up the stairs, I didn't play pranks anymore.

Please Stop That

This one was witnessed by my dad, as well as, myself. I wouldn't have believed our house was haunted if this had never happened. We lived in a beautiful house that previously belonged to a skilled constructor. It had a vaulted skylight with gorgeous woodworking, a huge living room with custom made windows, storage space galore, and a cooling system that would make the strictest environmentalist jealous.

I first noticed something was weird when our pets would randomly stare into open space. Our elderly cat would say her "hello" meow at random times night and day. (If you own cats, you know what I'm talking about.) I thought she was being senile, until our dog started acting suspiciously, going to look in the other room or barking at nothing. I never experienced anything except for sometimes feeling like someone was watching me when I was home alone.

One night, I was watching tv with my dad, and the lights began to flicker on and off. My dad, very calmy, said, "Please stop that." Before I could say I wasn't doing anything, the lights stopped blinking. I was completely still in terror, and my dad just continued in his calm voice, "Relax, it's just the guy who used to wn the place." "What!?" "The construction worker. He likes to hang around here and sometimes he screws up the lights."

Flabbergasted, I asked a ton of questions, and Dad was surprised I hadn't seen him. "I see him outside all the time. He'll sit on the tail end of my truck or be working in the garage. He's just making sure his house is taken care of."

It wasn't until years later that I accepted our paranormal experience in that house. It actually makes sense that someone who passed would visit their beloved home to make sure it was being taken care of. And anytime I started to get that feeling I was being watched, I would say out loud, "Hello, Mr Bill. Everything's alright" and the feeling would go away.

I Make Sure To Say Hello In Graveyards

I don't put much credit into feelings of cold, wrongness, or someone following you, because I'm quite anxious and paranoid by nature. Even if I take too much Tylenol, I'd be stricken with bouts of terror that their were hundreds of burglers in our house. Needless to say, my spouse is a very very patient person. (Love you, C!)

Because of my sensitivity, there are certain places where emotions run high that I try not to stay in for too long. For example, hospitals, graveyards (especially veteran burials), and churches give me the heeby-jeebys. Like I said, I don't believe in ghosts, but it's sometimes really hard to ignore the whispering or the sense of being drawn to a gravestone as you walk along.

It's sometimes difficult to listen to the doctor talking to you when something is poking you in your mind to get your attention. It makes me want to sob at a funeral when I keep thinking I hear a baby crying on the other side of graveyard. It's eerie to be praying while trying hard not to notice the cold seeping from underground where the monks and nuns are buried deep in the crypts.

But most of all, it's hard to not run as I'm walking through a room, and I feel something pulling at me to stay. To just turn off the lights and stay where I am. It would be so nice to sit in the quiet cold and think about nothing. Don't think about the feeling of ants on your skin. Don't think about the squeezing fingers in your mind. Just sit still and pretend you've always believed you were a worthless human being, unworthy to live.

Just sit...

Just listen to the whispers...

Ghosts don't exist, but something very evil does.