One morning when I was getting dressed I reached for my deodorant. I use the stick kind. A twist on the bottom and it protrudes higher out the top. I’m careful not to extend it too far out. Just enough to glide a nice layer in a single use. I took off the top and noticed that the stick was extended about an inch and a half. I carefully reversed the dial and pushed it back down where it should be. I figured Lillian must have been playing with it and over twisted the dial. So I put it up on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet where Lil can’t reach it or even see it. I went about my day. The next morning I put on a nice fresh shirt and went to the medicine cabinet to retrieve my deodorant. I took off the cap. The deodorant was again, protruding about an inch and a half out the top. I paused for a moment to think. It was a small effort to get the deodorant back in. I thought perhaps that it loosened and slid out on its own. I shook it and tried to get it to extend. Nothing. I tried shaking it violently to produce the same result. Barely a centimeter. Is it physically possible to extend on its own while sitting completely still on the shelf? …or more interestingly, is it possible that we have a ghost that really cares about personal hygiene?
I think you either believe in paranormal activity or you don’t. But from my experience, most people have had some kind of interaction or know someone that has. I have many things that have happened to me that are beyond reasonable explanation. If I mentioned every story of mine, it may take you until Halloween 2011 to read it. So this includes some of mine and a smattering of others. I hope you enjoy. And eh.. you may want to read this when you’re not alone.
Cheesman Park
About 21 years ago, my brother Dan was entertaining a curiosity of the paranormal and checked out various books on the subject. He took the books with him to Cheesman Park, one of the most infamous parks in Denver. It was a chilly and grey autumn afternoon and Dan sat on a park bench to read. An old man approached him speaking gibberish. He looked down at the witchcraft book my brother was reading and reached forward to take it from his hands. He closed the book and pointed to the picture on the cover. “In a true book of witchcraft, every picture is a letter.“ The old man said. There was an image of headstones in a cemetery and very distinct old trees. The old man held the book up and pointed to trees and landmarks very similar in the park. Of course Dan knew the history of Cheesman. But he hadn’t equated the library book to the park. Nothing in the title or content indicated any affiliation. The uncanny similarity gave Dan a creepy and uneasy feeling. So Dan told him he had to go and took the book and stuffed it back into his bag. He turned and started walking. The sky was growing dark and he was feeling alone in the open field. He walked about 40 feet and turned to see where the old man went. He was gone. Vanished from a vast open space.
If you are unfamiliar with the facts of Cheesman, click here:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/co-cheesmanpark.html
The Spitz-Harlton
Two years ago I worked security for a luxury hotel in downtown Denver that shall remain nameless. (It rhymes with Spitz Harlton.) The hotel was new, but the building it occupies is not. The guest floors extend from floors 3 through 14. Floors 15-19 were reserved for exclusive and expensive residences. These were still under construction and only one unit on the 15th floor was occupied. The floors above 19 were apartments unaffiliated with the hotel.
I worked the overnight shift from 10:30 PM to 7:00 AM with an older gentleman named Paul. We would take turns completing a patrol of the entire property including the unoccupied floors. It wasn’t long before Paul and I both noticed strange happenings on the 16th floor. One night Paul returned from completing a round. He was visibly nervous and agitated. He placed his radio on the desk and cleared his throat. He took off his jacket and sat in his chair and fidgeted. We barely knew each other at the time and he was a little uncomfortable telling me what happened. “Have you been to the 16th floor tonight?” Paul asked. Of course I had. We had to complete a foot patrol of each and every floor, using the electronic wand to register our presence at a pre-determined point. “Well, something isn’t right up there. When I stepped out of the stairwell I heard music playing. So I rounded the corner and found one of the construction worker’s radios plugged in and on. I unplugged it and moved it out of the hall. I walked a bit and still heard music. So I walked all of the units and didn’t find anybody. At the other end of the hall another radio was on.” Paul could see the concern on my face.
“Paul, I was up there about 1:00 AM and there was no radio on anywhere.” We tried to come up with possibilities to explain it. There were only 6 employees on staff overnight. Two security, one front desk, one bellman, one housekeeper, and one chef. The housekeeper and bellman were keeping the front desk agent company. We could see them in the cameras. The chef was making our lunch. It wasn’t possible for any guest or unauthorized person to reach that floor without card access. The following night we both patrolled the floor as usual. On the next patrol, Paul found a large wrench in the middle of the hall that had not been there before.
Time passed and we completed our rounds. I always walked briskly through the 16th floor. Never stopping to enjoy the incredible view from the windows, but simply walking and touching the electronic contact with the wand. One night I descended the stairs from 17 and reached for the door leading to the 16th floor. I turned the handle and pulled. The door did not open and I felt a distinct resistance from the other side. I pulled harder and felt an equal amount of pressure behind. Finally the door gave and opened. I stepped through and no one was there. I yelled out to whomever was playing a trick on me. No answer. I walked the entire floor and found no one. I forgot the rest of the patrol and went down to the security office. I turned to Paul. “Paul, about the 16th floor…” before I could finish, Paul blurted out, “Does it feel like someone is pulling on the door??” “YES!” I shouted. Over the next few months we grew somewhat accustomed to the odd happenings. Mostly on that floor, but on other’s as well. In the wee hours one morning Starr was tapped on the shoulder with no one there. That was caught on camera and was actually funnier than hell. I left there shortly after. The strange occurrences did not push me away, but lack of daylight did.
Barbies, Pin-Art, and Serial Killers… OH MY!
Many years ago I was a manager for mall-based toy store. It was about 3 days after Christmas and I was completing an over-nighter with a co-worker named Shannon. We had to tear apart the store front and re-set the fixtures with new promo merchandise. Each fixture had to be taken completely apart and re-assembled for the new layout. At about 2 AM we had toys everywhere, and fixture pieces strewn all over.
Our conversation about ghosts and the paranormal was keeping us alert and the topic then changed to serial killers. I told Shannon about my family’s experience with an escaped Ted Bundy in 1977. As we spoke about this and other scary happenings, we heard something fall in the Barbie aisle. We immediately stopped talking and went to investigate. A doll had toppled onto the floor. We picked it up and agreed to end our creepy discussion.
As we stood in that aisle, we heard a crash up front and ran up there. In the center of the floor, with nothing around it, was a pin-art toy. The plastic packaging was crushed on the corner from the landing. But landing from what? There were no fixtures nearby that this toy could have fallen from. The nearest rack was 15 feet away. I picked it up and placed it on the register counter with my heart pounding. We were locked in the store alone. I immediately conducted a search of the entire store. We were definitely alone. After this, we both had to go to the bathroom which was in the backroom. Not wanting to go alone, we went together. We were not prepared for what we found when we came back to the store front. The pin-art toy was not on the register counter where I left it. It was standing on top of a fixture in the store front. It had the familiar crushed corner of plastic.
We didn’t get killed that night, or anything that dramatic. But it did bring to mind the possibility that perhaps if you speak of ghosts, or evil spirits, you are inviting these things into your immediate world in some sense.
My cousin Amanda lives alone in a 2 story townhouse and sleeps in her upstairs bedroom. She was awakened one night at 3 AM with a large crash from downstairs. Her cat Oreo was lying next to her and sat up just as startled. Amanda didn’t feel brave enough to go down and investigate and instead talked herself into falling back to sleep. When she got up for work in the morning a large and heavy mirror she had on the mantle was laying on the floor with a crack through it. But something wasn’t quite right. The decorative items that sat in front of the mirror were undisturbed.
Shining?
Like Amanda, I haven‘t seen anyone that I knew to be a ghost. But some people have seen them, spoken to them, and interacted with them. Some people have a ‘gift’ for seeing, communicating and interacting with spirits. Perhaps even attracting them?
My cousin Rose has seen many, and in multiple locations. They’ve occupied each of her homes. Never following her and her family to a new home. Just a different set at each one. She spoke to me of a baby presence that left small handprints on the steamed glass of the bathroom mirror. Rose works from home. Her office is in the basement and she works well into the night. When she sees them and they won‘t leave her alone, she stops for the night and heads upstairs. She’s much braver than I.
Not to worry, she’s only imaginary
Is it possible that like animals, children have the ability to see and interact with ghosts? Who’s to say that Imaginary Friends aren’t spirits among us? When I was a child mine was a young girl named Jodi. She was around my age, about 5 or 6 years old and I can still picture her like it was yesterday. She wore round plastic framed glasses and had frizzy hair that was held back in a ponytail. She always wore the same clothes, corduroy pants and a striped cotton shirt with quarter-length sleeves. Jodi lived in the heating vent behind the front door. We played together many times.
In the Suazo household, the ‘imaginary’ friend was a Little Blue Man. Aaron saw him as a child in his bedroom, but only saw a blue head. Eventually, Bev would take over the same bedroom and see the Little Blue Man for the first time when she was just two. She saw him several times after that, walking about in a hurry through the closet. Many years passed and my Auntie Irene never thought the Little Blue Man existed, until just a couple of years ago. She was lying in bed and saw him leave out the window in his trench coat and derby hat. He hasn’t been seen since.
I believe that no one alive will ever know the exact truth about spirits, ghosts, or anything considered paranormal. If we did, if some ghost hunter was to unmistakably prove beyond any doubt that they either exist or don’t exist… wouldn’t that spoil the fun? Wouldn’t that just ruin every October 31st?
