Ghost Story 2, Part 2 - The Mischief Maker

My secretary Shirley was an older, grandmotherly type woman. She said she helped a minister get rid of some 'entities' (her word) at a church-member's home, and at this point, I didn't have anything to risk really, apart from my reputation at work as the crazy, believer-in-ghosts person. I wanted to resolve it before my parents arrived, and I really needed sleep. So she came out to the house after work a few days later.

She walked into the house and immediately walked into my room. I followed her in, and although this sounds really cliche, the room was really cold. She asked, is this the room? And I said yeah, but that there were things going on all over the house.

I had never met anyone who 'channeled' ghosts, or met a psychic, or had any other kind of experience with this kind of spiritualist. It was way before reality TV or the pet psychic on the Animal Channel. It made me uncomfortable when she just started talking to the 'entity.' I was a little embarrassed for her, and for my future working with her, because it seemed so out there.

She used a very soft voice and started speaking. "You need to move on. Your place is not here." She asked me to imagine a white light around the house, to protect it. She then asked "it" if it wanted to talk. Here's where it got really freaky.

As soon as she asked this question, both my feet started tingling like when they have been asleep and you are now trying to make them walk. The tingling feeling started traveling up my legs. I immediately said "STOP" and ran out of the room. She stayed in there for about 5 more minutes, talking in a low voice, and then came out to talk to me.

The first thing she did was apologize. She had intuited that this was a young boy spirit, from the mischief he was creating and his reluctance to move on. When she asked if he wanted to talk, apparently he did, and was going to use me as the vehicle. She didn't see that coming. It is actually making me have goosebumps just typing about it. I will never forget it.

After that, she went through the house and blessed all the rooms. She sat me in a chair, and then she blessed me.

Nothing ever happened again. No sounds, no giant spiders, no microwave bells in the middle of the night. A few days later Shirley said she researched the property at the library and apparently a house had burned down there in the 1930s and a little boy had died. I never verified it, and we never talked about it again.

When my parents came, I told them the story, and they just laughed. Everything was back to normal.