Note:
I begged Jennifer Graham, my awesome photographer friend, to let me borrow some
of her famed cemetery photos for this post. All photographs are copyrighted. Please do not use without permission. I've included Jennifer's contact
information at the bottom. I highly recommend liking her White Rabbit Creative Facebook page.
When my oldest child was a toddler, we lived for a year in
the Netherlands. Our neighbors joked that we inhabited the oddest house in all
of Holland. It was a brick row house that
was built in the 1920s and ran eight meters across the front, like its normal
row mates, but shrank to only one meter in the back—enough for a single door. When
the rental agent showed it to us, we immediately fell in love with the oddball
home and nicknamed it “The Wedge.” We signed the lease and drove out to IKEA to
furnish our beloved wedge with modern Swedish decor.
Soon, I became friends with our most interesting neighbor,
an astrological adviser. Given her profession, I assumed that she was
open-minded to the supernatural. I saw no reason not to ask her if she had noticed
any weird occurrences at The Wedge or if she had heard stories of it being
haunted. She looked at me, shocked, and said, “There are no haunted houses in
Netherlands.” No haunted houses in Netherlands? My foot! I’m from the South.
Everything is haunted (“got haints”). No amount of modern, minimalist furniture
can excise persistent ghosts from the past.
The Wedge didn't possess bad energy. In fact, it was a sunny,
cheery place. My toddler son would giggle, wave, and carry
on a delightful conversation in babble to an invisible person on the balcony. Often I would return to the states and, alone
at The Wedge, my husband would work late into the night. He told me stories of how he had locked the
balcony door, only to find it open again. Once he looked into the mirror and saw the
reflection of a man standing behind him. I guess my most interesting experience
was waking up in the night to see a tall, reed-like man standing in our
bedroom, wearing a dull 1940s suit, smoking a cigarette, and peering out the
window. He looked as if he had been drawn
in charcoal.
I have since learned that these grayish, sketch-like
apparitions are a particular classification of ghosts. I understand that they can have yellow eyes.
Luckily, I didn't get to see my night visitor’s glowing orbs.
These were just isolated incidents in our time in The Wedge.
I still remember the home with tenderness and warmth. Maybe it was so lovely
there that its former inhabitant didn't want to leave.
Question: Have you ever had a supernatural encounter while traveling? If so, please share your story.
You can see more of Jennifer Graham’s work at the White Rabbit Creative photography website, Etsy, Twitter or Facebook.
Susanna Ives is a mommy and romance writer living in Atlanta. Her upcoming book Wicked Little Secrets will be available on December 3rd. You can learn more about her books at www.susannaives.com, Twitter, and Facebook.
Tag! Laura, you're next!
5 comments:
lovely photos. we do have fab photo opps here in Savannah when it comes to gravestones. your wedge house sounds charming.
Susanna! Great story. Nice ghosts. Extra spooky with the yellow eyes. Glad I waited until after dark to read. Not.
Thanks, y'all.
I keep trying to meet a ghost on my travels -- so far the closest I've come was our night at The Old City Jail in Charleston. And of course there is the bathroom at The Mansion . . .
Even if it was a nice ghost, it still would freak me out to see one.
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