Ghosty Sh*t!
"People who deny the paranormal have never experienced it." Amy Bruni.
Thank you to all my readers and subscribers, new and old. Because so many of you have joined my writing journey over the past year and a half, I want to share this article from the Ring Around the Basin Archives with you to celebrate the Spooky Season. I’d love to hear all about your own ghostly experiences in the Comments section too. So let’s gather around t he virtual campfire and tell some tales.
Yeah, okay, I'll admit I love watching Amy Bruni, Adam Berry, and Chip Coffey investigate haunts throughout the U.S. on "Kindred Spirits." It's what my daughter, Valerie, and I lovingly call "ghosty shit on TV." Their show, however, appeals to me because it aligns with my own beliefs. I have had lots of experiences that make me wonder, did I really see that? I can't deny the paranormal.
Besides, everybody loves a good ghost story, right? Whether it's tales around a campfire or a wild yarn told by a teenage boy to little girls in broad daylight, ghosts hold a place in human hearts all over the world. The eyes widen. The body tingles with anticipation, and the fear of the Mysterious heightens every heartbeat.
These stories often rise from real narratives, such as near-death experiences. Here's an example.
My friend, David, told me about lying on a gurney after a serious auto accident and felt his spirit peel up from his body. As he hovered there, he watched the medical staff frantically work to save his life. At last, they succeeded, but he endured another struggle. His spirit had trouble fitting back into his body as if it was reluctant to re-enter that containment vessel. I love this story because it's not urban legend. David actually told me his story in person.
It's Just a Feeling; It'll Pass
Have you ever felt uneasy when passing an open doorway? Or maybe an abandoned cabin or car in the woods made you stop in your tracks. It's irrational, you tell yourself. There's nothing dangerous about this thing being here, but do you dare look through the windows? As the heebee-jeebees crawl up your neck, do you really just want to get out of the area, looking over your shoulder every few steps?
As for doorways, is there some subliminal indication of a "door not entered" during your life? Does the decision haunt you with its missed opportunities? Or is that doorway a place where a spirit got stuck?
While visiting a friend of mine, I heard footsteps upstairs. It didn't make sense, as I knew she lived alone. When I asked her about the sounds, she very matter-of-factly said, "Oh, there's a ghost."
"Ooo," my love for ghostly adventure piqued, "do you know who it is?"
She waved a dismissive hand. "Oh no, I don't get into that stuff."
But later, as we worked on a project upstairs, I felt weird as I passed a certain door along the hall. What happened there? Is it just a residual imprint left behind, the power of suggestion, or did something horrible happen that bound a spirit to that spot in her hundred-year-old house?
Such a case was recited during a ghost tour in Virginia City, NV, a location high on the list of Most Haunted Places. Apparently, a man tried to escape from a high window of a burning hotel and died. A psychic, so the story goes, could hear the man screaming as she investigated the site. Now that is a tragedy, I thought. Trapped in the harrowing moment of one's death is my idea of Hell.
I Got A Bad Feeling About This
There are myriad places that just have that eerie feeling. Even if they're well-lit or in open country, whatever happened there hangs over it.
While delivering papers in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California, one group of mailboxes under a street lamp always gave me such chills, I was afraid to put my arm out the window to place the newspaper on the box. Other darker areas didn't bother me at all. This one spot, however, raised the hairs on my neck.
Another location in Santa Cruz caused my husband, Jeff, and I to shiver any time we drove past. Near a campground for some religious group sat a glowering two-story building that appeared to emanate shadow even in full daylight. We didn't know why, but the vibes always spooked us.
During a trip to the abandoned mining town of Bodie, CA., we explored the cemetery. One alabaster monolith exuded the most inconsolable grief. I stood there reading the inscriptions etched in the weathered stone telling of the man's love for his wife who was buried there. After awhile, I was weeping, as if his pain had entered my body. When Jeff joined me there, he felt it too. "This is the saddest place I've even been," he said. Even though Jeff is a scientist, he has a deep respect for the spiritual experiences he's had.
For one thing, he shared my feeling of dread while we strolled around a campground in northern Nevada. Sites were carved out of a beautiful aspen grove filled with blooming wildflowers and surrounded by grasslands where cattle grazed. We could even hear a couple of steers scuffling just beyond the boundary fence. No place could be more bucolic than this. Even on that July afternoon, we both got the willies as if something was not quite right. "I wonder if someone's been murdered here," he said suddenly. His statement shocked me. What message was he picking up from the ether? Indeed, it did feel like the site of a grisly crime.
Years later, we got a shocking update to this story. Daughter Val told us that her friends camped there and took photos of the place. In one shot, there was a dark blob with a brilliant orange face. Its mouth opened wide as if screaming.
Residual or Intelligent?
Some places are very actively haunted. Valerie worked as a wrangler at the Squaw Valley Riding Stables one summer. Stories about a cowboy who died there gave everyone a little buzz. And of course, the cowboy didn't disappoint.
It was rumored that the man, in a drunken mania, set fire to his bunkhouse. While these two events were probably unrelated, every morning about 3 a.m., Valerie heard him running up the alley to the barn between the bunk rooms where she lived. It caused her cattle dog, whom she adopted to protect her, to hide under the bed. Some watch dog!
Residual energy? Undoubtedly. But the manager's story suggests he's probably still actively haunting the property. One night while doing the books after hours, she heard the floor boards creak and looked up. Standing in the doorway was a buckaroo looking at her as if he wondered what in tarnation was she doing there. Who the hell was she? Gazing at this apparition for a long, startled moment, she realized she could see through him. In time, he walked away and left her alone. Residual? Hmmmmm. Maybe not.
Sometimes residual energy can be so fleeting, one wonders if what they saw was really anything at all. While remodeling our Truckee home, Jeff took a break in the dining room. He suddenly saw something out of the corner of his eye and turned just in time to see our old dog, Checkers, who had died in the house years ago. It was a partial apparition because Checkers revealed only the back portion of his body, his bushy tail swishing side to side as he disappeared around the corner.
You Saw That Too, Right?
And then there are those experiences where a couple of people see something at the same time. One summer evening, my friend, Donna, and I walked home from my neighborhood market. She and I had been dabbling with her Ouiji board a few times with eerie results. So we had established a mutual belief in the spirit world. What happened that evening, however, brought that realm into full relief. We think!
Walking along the well-lit street, we both saw an ethereal figure draped in what looked like a gossimar gown. As it drew nearer, it appeared to be an old woman with long white hair. The weird part was she was slowly crossing the front lawns instead of walking on the sidewalk. Unsettled, I looked over my shoulder as the woman passed us. She wasn't a wispy, vapory figure; rather she seemed as corporeal as we were. After a very tense moment, Donna blurted out, "What was that?" Indeed, what did we just see?
They Have Our Backs
Sometimes ghosts visit us in dreams. While in college, Valerie dreamed she opened the front door of her house and saw my deceased father standing there. He was obviously not on her plane of existence as an aura of light outlined his body. She had been under a lot of stress because of schoolwork and her roommate's drunken parties in the backyard. One night, a guy entered her room. She warned him she had a 12-gauge shotgun under her bed, which enticed him to back off slowly. So, as she stared at my father's apparition, he smiled at her, "Don't worry, Valerie. Everything's going to be all right." Then he disappeared.
Jeff had his own meeting with Dad while flying solo in a Cessna 172 over the Sierra Nevada. Sometimes flying made him nervous, as it would any intelligent pilot, especially with the capricious winds of that mountain range. Flying over the Desolation Wilderness, he felt the very calming presence of my father in the right seat; a silent co-pilot who eased his tension. It lasted for a few minutes then it faded.
My dad's comforting spirit helped Val and Jeff through some tough times, giving them confidence and assurance. I'm sure my father has whispered in my ear a few times. That's why I've written so many poems about him. Lots of good memories at least, but so far, no dramatic visitations. Maybe Dad figures the memories are enough to get me through things.
Some people believe our deceased family members guide and protect us. A veil between our dimension and theirs is very thin yet they are all around us. That concept comforts me whenever I think of a departed loved one or hear an odd noise in the house. But it's kind of spooky to actually see someone else's spirit companion.
Who Did I Just See?
One day, I looked out the window and saw Jeff coming back to the house from his shop. A young man walked beside him, talking to him. I'd never seen the man before. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that was splattered with paint or dirt. His blonde hair looked dusty. Who was this disheveled young man?
At one point, they passed behind a tree. Jeff came out the other side but the man didn't. I watched intently, waiting for him to emerge. A good case of the creeps froze my whole body as Jeff opened the front door. I must've looked like I'd seen a ghost, because he asked me what was wrong.
"Who was that with you just now?"
"What are you talking about? There was nobody with me."
As I described the man, a strange smile crossed his face. "Hmm, "maybe you just saw my guardian angel."
"What?" I screamed. "Guardian angel! What do you mean?"
He then told me when he was a little boy playing in the sandbox, he saw a man standing nearby dressed in an Air Force flight suit. The man smiled down at him. His father was in the Air Force, so he thought the man was just a visitor. Then the man faded away. Being raised Catholic, Jeff figured the man was his Guardian Angel. A reasonable hypothesis for a little boy to come up with, but still I was unnerved by the whole thing.
Ghostly Comedian
Not all ghosts are scary. Sometimes they can be downright silly. Valerie and I attended the funeral of Graham, a young man she had grown up with who had a devilish sense of humor. In fact, the funeral became a roller coaster between delight and tears as speakers recounted Graham's antics. He father told us how, at the viewing, a wave of laughter passed from the front row to back through those sharing memories of him. People just couldn't talk about this kid without laughing. His father whispered to his body there in the coffin, "you're still doing your job, aren't you, son?" That story catches in my throat even as I write this. He was simply a funny human being who died way before his time.
After the funeral, Valerie attended the graveside burial in another town. She slept that night in Graham's old bedroom. It was kind of difficult, though, because the digital clock kept rising and lowering on the bedside table. She finally blurted out, "Stop it, Graham, I'm trying to get some sleep."
The clock settled down on the table. And Graham went on to his next comical adventure. Rest in peace, you crazy kid!
Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this post feel free to explore other poems, essays, and stories in the Ring Around the Basin Archive. I also love to read your comments, so please share your thoughts. Let’s start a conversation. And if you wish to support my writings, please consider subscribing or upgrading to a paid subscription. It’s now only $50/year. Even better, I would appreciate it if you could share Ring Around the Basin with your friends. Thank you!
All my books, Paradise Ridge, When the Horses Come and Go, and Ghost in the Forest are currently available on Kindle.
Ghost in the Forest, is also available in paperback for ten bucks. Paradise Ridge is out-of-print, but the Kindle version is re-edited and better quality. Hard copies of “When the Horses Come and Go” are gone unless that dusty box in the corner still has some.
Book Review of Ghost in the Forest:
"Ghost in The Forest" is a great read! Take note People. If you love stories about environmentalism and nature, its clash with urban mindsets, as well as personal transformation, this is the book for you!
"Ghost in The Forest" is a quick 126-page read. It's the story of Dori, a woman trapped in a mix of grief over parental loss and refusing to accept how her hometown and her friends have changed over the years. Because of this, Dori has become a recluse and a self-imposed misanthrope who finds more comfort amongst the hiking trails around her hometown of Morristown than in her dealings with the raw reality of other humans.
The book, in some ways, resembled Edward Abbey’s “Desert Solitaire” in that the story follows a protagonist's love of nature and angst about humans encroaching on it. In this case, it’s how Morristown is transforming into a mountain biking destination where cyclists run rampant on trails and nature.
However, a tragedy involving said mountain biking becomes a major pivot point for Dori, leading to a series of events that eventually bring about personal evolution and discovery.
If you're a nature lover, this book is a must-read. It beautifully portrays the clash between environmentalism and urban mindsets and the journey of personal transformation. The book's vivid descriptions of nature and the protagonist's love for it will surely intrigue you.
Paradise Ridge Review by western author D. B. Jackson:
If you draw circle roughly around an area that includes northern Nevada, southern Oregon, and southern Idaho, within that circle exists a culture and people who live a lifestyle largely untouched by modern values. These are the "buckaroos" and Basque characters author Sue Cauhape brings to life in her literary novel, "Paradise Ridge".
Leandro, the illegitimate seventh son of patriarch Xavier Arriaga and his mistress, Gisela, is at the center of this intriguing story that travels exceedingly successfully at both the personal level of the characters, as well as the compelling level where the story is told.
Cauhape writes in a literary style that reminds me of Annie Poulx. Paradise Ridge, on the surface, appears to be an upscale Western novel...once inside the pages, you will soon discover a potential classic waiting to be discovered.
I rated this book a 5...because that's all the stars there were.
Gosh, I really enjoyed this, Sue! I don't seek out ghost stories - particularly real ones - but I found this post utterly enthralling, and I might even check out some other spooky ready this Hallowe'en season. Thank you. Am enlightened! xxx
Hi Sue, Really interesting! My mother worked the midnight shift at a convalescent hospital and left me and my siblings sleeping. We were pretty young. She was a single mom and didn’t have anyone to watch us. She would pray that we would be alright. As a kid I always had respiratory issues. One night I had a really bad cold with a fever. A lady in white came into the room and covered me up. The figure was sort of transparent. The next day I asked my mother if she came into the room and covered me up. She said, “No!”
My grandmother relocated from Oklahoma to help my mother. We moved into a three story victorian. Every now and again while in bed, I would get a feeling that someone was sitting on the edge of the bed. One night at dinner, I told everyone about the experience. Turns out 2 adults and 3 kids all had the same experience.