Mr. Bowman’s ghost: story 1
(Names have been changed to protect the innocent and the dead)

I grew up in a small coal mining town in West Virginia. The house we lived in had been built in 1920 and was solid, with real wood floors, thick wooden doors including the doors on the inside of the house even the closets. The house also has a ghost, I call him Mr. Bowman, I’m not sure if that is really who he is but my parents bought the two story home from his widow and I was told that he had died in the home of natural causes.
Through out my growing up I have had many, many experiences with Mr. Bowman. Once he gave my friends and I a message through the Ouija Board that ended up saving another friends life, once he gave me and a friend the same dream that ended up saving both our lives and later he gave me a distraction that saved my life yet again. But those aren’t the stories I will share now.
It took me many years to realize that Mr. Bowman wasn’t the only ghost in the house and that the other one wasn’t friendly. For years I had mistakenly thought that some of the things I experienced were Mr. Bowman, until I discovered that not all of them were. I believe now that Mr. Bowman had kept the other ghost at bay, protecting me over the years.
Countless times I had seen something out of the corner of my eye, usually in a mirror as I was walking past or happened to glance up. It was always gone in a flash, to quick for me to make out exactly what I had seen and the only description I can give is a white misty human form that was moving in one direction or the other, never facing the mirror. Of course when I would spin around there was nothing there.
The night I discovered that there was another ghost in the house I was 9 years old. My brother, who is 8 years older then me, and I would watch Chiller Theater on Saturday nights. I know what your thinking, and no it wasn’t my imagination or me being a scared kid because I liked to watch scary movies. In fact, with the exception of one or two, I found the old black and white scary movies to be funny and my brother and I would watch them and make fun of the cheap costumes and lame dialog. But because they were supposed to be scary my parents wouldn’t let me watch them alone.
My brother, ever the ladies man, always had a date on Saturday night but always got home just in time for us to watch the movies together. So as it was I was sitting up in bed waiting for him to come home before I could go down stairs and turn on the television. My bedroom was on the top floor at the corner of the house and had two windows, one looking out between our house and the neighbors one story house, so basically a view of their roof, and one facing out towards the front and the side walk. In order to sit in my bed and look out the window that faced the front of the house, and therefore be able to see my brother arrive home, I had to sit at the foot of the bed.
I remember looking out the window, there was a telephone pole just at the corner of our yard with a street light on it. I was sitting at the foot of the bed with my back against the raised foot board, my feet pulled up towards my chest under my long night gown and my arms were wrapped around my legs as I watched for my brother. I remember the leaves had fallen and it had rained so everything looked slick and wet. The space from the bed to the side of the wall on the side with the window I was looking down from was not very wide, it had just enough room for my mother to be able to squeeze in while she made the bed. The room was large but it had two queen size antique beds, (my brother and I had to share a room), a dresser and chest of drawers. The space between the wall and the bed was dark except for the small space between the curtains from the window.
I am now 57 years old and I can see what happened today as clearly as I did that day. I have heard the phrase “There are things you can remember and things you can’t forget” many times through out my life and each and every time I hear it I think of this event. I have also heard the term “Paralyzed with fear” and I wonder if the people who utter it actually know what that truly means, I do.
I will pause here to say that I was never the type of person, even as a kid, to cower. I never understood people who pull the covers over their heads when they think someone or something is in their room. I mean, it knows where you are, the covers don’t make you disappear. Hiding under the covers waiting for whatever the person or thing plans to do with you is not, in my opinion, a good option. No, I would rather see what is going on and gage my response. Do I think I have a change of winning the fight? If I decide the answer is no, (and with an evil ghost it is always going to be no), then I plan my escape route. Either way I decide to go, fight or flight, I am actually
doing something, not just cowering in fear, until this time.
I’m sitting at the foot of the bed, looking out of the window. I notice something in the darkness in the space between the bed and the wall. A pair of ghostly hands slowly slide up over the side of the bed, they are not quite skeleton but not solid either. They are attached to extremely long thin boney arms, I saw no shoulder, nothing but the arms and hands. They were white, hazy like fog or smoke but not wispy. The hands started feeling around on the bed, on the bed in the spot that I would normally be laying if I wasn’t sitting at the foot of the bed. A spot, that if I hadn’t been sitting in the position I was in, my feet could have been. The hands seemed to me to be sneaky, stealthy, searching by feel, searching for me. The hands stayed searching on that section of the bed, they didn’t venture further down to the end, the end where I sat, the end that had a sliver of light coming through the space in the curtain. After about 20 seconds, and believe me it felt like hours, the hands seem to get frustrated, instead of slowly sliding around on the bed they started patting it softly and then the patting grew harder and harder until it was like someone beating hard on a drum with their palms. The hands slowly slid back over the side of the bed out of sight.
I could not move, I felt the blood drain down my body as I guess my blood pressure dropped. My heart seemed to be the only part of my body capable of movement and it was beating to the point that even at 9 years old I am shocked I didn’t have a heart attack. I was literality frozen with fear, I couldn’t even scream. That was the most helpless feeling, I wanted to scream, my parents were in the next room, but I could not make myself scream, open my mouth, move, anything.
What broke the spell was my brothers car door slamming shut out front. Although I found that I still couldn’t use my voice I was able to move my body. I jumped up and stood in the middle of the bed. In the middle of the bed I had just watched those ghostly hands disappear under. I wanted to get out of the room but didn’t want to step off the bed because I was sure those hands were going to reach out and grab my ankles. My solution was to jump off the end of the bed, over the foot board, with my long night gown clutched up in my fist, into the middle of the room. I landed hard but stayed on my feet. I bolted from the room and down the stairs straight to my brother who had just come in the door. He looked scared and confused, he had heard my landing in the bedroom above him,( how our parents didn’t wake up is beyond me), and he could see the look of horror on my face. He managed to calm me down and we eventually went back upstairs, turned on the light and checked out the room, he wanted me to see there was nothing in there. I did notice that he grabbed some pillows and blankets while we were in the room and said we could have a “camp out” in the living room floor that night. My brother and I had discussed Mr. Bowman many times. I didn’t know for many years that my brother knew there was another ghost but never said anything because he didn’t want to scare me.
I don’t know why those hands were searching for me that night. I don’t know why Mr. Bowman didn’t protect me that night. I do know that I have never, at any point in my life, been as scared as I was that night and I hope I never will be.

Story 2
I have written a previous story about the friendly, helpful spirit I grew up with that I have named Mr. Bowman, and the less than friendly ghost that I have refused to name. I never wanted to name it because giving it a name, somehow in my mind, assigned importance to it or some kind of connection. I just wanted it to go away. I always had the impression that it was a female and years later I found out that I was correct but that is not a story I will share, ever. I believe she was behind the events of this story.
At this time I am 10 years old. My brother had graduated high school and joined the Navy in order to avoid being drafted into the Army, this was during Viet Nam. So for the first time, I had a bedroom all to myself. It should have been great but I really missed my brother.
It was a few weeks before Halloween. My father was a coal miner and my mother worked as a florist. We weren’t poor, I always had everything I needed and most of what I wanted. However, we didn’t waste money on things such as Halloween costumes. We would fashion costumes out of old clothing to make me a zombie bride or a hobo. I didn’t care, I loved Halloween, loved walking around the town in the night crunching through the dry leaves and getting a bag full of candy. My friend Lisa was the same as me as far as having to come up with a home made costume and she didn’t care either as long as we made a good haul in the candy department.
There was a very nice lady, Mrs. Adams, who went to church with us, her husband was an attorney and they had plenty of money. There children, two boys, were grown and had moved out of their home. Mrs. Adams had been cleaning out some closets and ran across a box of old Halloween costumes she had stored from when her sons were young. She decided against keeping them and ask my mother if she thought I would like to have them. So my mother brings this large cardboard box home that was full of old costumes. Lisa came over and she and I went through the box to find costumes to wear for Halloween that year. Of course because Mrs. Adams had two sons the things in the box were boy related costumes, fireman, policeman, cowboy, things like that.
Let me stop here to state this. I hate clowns, I always have. Clowns and scarecrows both freak me out. I also have a problem with mimes because basically they are just mute clowns with a less colorful wardrobe. This business that was going on a few years ago with all of these clown sightings everywhere is just wrong. I mean WHY?
Lisa and I dug around in the costume box looking for something good to wear and at the bottom of the box was, of course, a clown mask. There was no clothing to go with it, just the mask. It looked like something for a very young child so it must have been pretty old if Mrs. Adams had kept it form when her sons were little. It was hard plastic, not the rubber you see today, and was just the oval that would cover a face, a very small face, with a black stretchy string that went around the back of the head. It had pointed little eyebrows and empty holes where your eyes were supposed to peek through. It had a red dot on the end of the nose that looked like a pimple, green circles painted on the checks and a big mouth with extremely large bright red lips that curved into a smile that was probably meant to be joyful but instead came off as the type of look I imagine a
serial killer gets when he knows he has cornered his prey. Even Lisa, who had no problem with clowns, looked at it and said “no way”. I took the mask and tossed it into the trash can in my room and then, because it landed with the face smiling up at me, I took some of the newspapers the box had been lined with, and put those on top of the ghastly thing. We both found the costumes we wanted to wear and she left to take hers home to show her parents.
The next day I came home from school and went up to my room. I didn’t notice it at first, I had changed out of my school clothes and took them into the bathroom to put in the hamper. It was when I entered the bedroom that second time that I saw it. Upon coming into my room about 2 feet directly across from the door is the foot of what had been my brothers bed. It is on old rod iron bed that has been in my family for generations. Now, with my brother no longer sleeping in it every night, it stayed made up and was a place for me to put my stuffed animals. Up until that point the larger of my stuffed animals had been living in a cedar chest but now were displayed atop of the rod iron bed. The bed had a white chenille bedspread that was pulled up over and tucked under flat pillows at the head of the bed. Several of my animals sat on the pillows but two of the larger ones were sitting just off the pillows with their little fuzzy butts directly on the bed. Between two of my large bears, stuck behind them propped up by the edge of the pillows, peering at me, was that clown mask.
My eyes immediately went to the trash can and I saw that it was empty. I went over, took the mask and went downstairs. I could easily imagine my mother retrieving it from the trash as she emptied it, but I could not see that she would put it on the bed in such a sinister fashion.
I found her in the kitchen cooking dinner and ask her if she put the mask on the bed. She looked at it in my hands and ask me if that was in the box from Mrs. Adams. She commented on the fact that it was obviously meant for a much younger child and no she hadn’t seen it before. I believed her, my mother would not lie to me about it, why would she? I told her that I had “put it up”, not wanting to tell her I put it in the trash, she didn’t know how I felt about clowns and I didn’t want her to, I felt funny about it and just kind of always kept it to myself. She suggested that maybe Lisa sat it on the bed before she left. I agreed with her even though I knew for a fact that she hadn’t.
My mother went through the house and I took the mask out into the laundry room/pantry that also housed the trash can. I took a large brown paper bag, (because in those days that it what you got at the grocery store), rolled the bag up and stuffed it in the trash making sure I pulled some of the other trash on top of it. There, that should do it. WRONG!
The next evening I was getting ready to take my bath before bed. I opened a drawer in my chest of drawers to get out a clean pair of panties. There, laying on top of my under things, was that mask. I knew the house trash had been carried out the night before because the trash man came on Tuesdays to collect the trash. I also knew that my mother didn’t put the mask in the under-ware drawer, she just wouldn’t. I took the thing and moved it into another drawer under some clothing until I could figure out what to do.
That week end Lisa spent the night and in the morning when we were waking up she said “I thought you threw that thing away” and pointed over to the chest of drawers. That mask was sitting on top of the chest facing our way, grinning at us. I told her about what had happened up to that point. We got scissors and cut the thing up into pieces about the size of postage stamps. We put the pieces in a brown paper bag and took it outside to the medal burning barrel my parents sometimes used. We lit the bag and watched it burn. I knew you were not supposed to burn plastic but I didn’t care, I was greatly satisfied to see the little black puffs of smoke rising in the air as the plastic melted. The mask never showed up after that, until………
Flash forward about 16 years. I am in Virginia, in a K-Mart and there is a large table full of Halloween clearance items for sale. Costumes, decorations, and candy. I am rummaging through the stuff to see if there is anything I want. There was a large skeleton decoration packaged in a long plastic clear bag. I moved the skeleton and underneath was a clown mask, THAT clown mask. No costume, no price tag, just that damn mask smiling up at me. I remember asking myself “how many years have they made that thing?” because it was old when I got it as a kid.
The situation kind of freaked me out so I covered it back up with the skeleton package and walked off. I made it almost to the door and then thought better of it. I decided to go back and buy the thing so I could show it to Lisa the next time I returned home to West Virginia, because she was never going to believe me when I told her this story. I went back to the table, moved the skeleton and the clown mask was gone. I supposed it is possible that someone came up after me, decided to buy the mask and was in the store at that very moment pushing it around in a cart, possible but not probable. I left the store and sat in my car for a long time, I felt sick. I KNOW that I saw it, but what I DON’T KNOW is if it was really there.

Story 3
This happened to me when I was about 11 years old. I lived in a small town in West Virginia, in a house with 2 ghosts. I had many experiences with Mr. Bowman, the friendly ghost and a few with the other non-friendly one. This is a story about an encounter with the non-friendly spirit.
Before I relay the story there are two things you need to know. First, we had a cat. He was a big gray Prussian who just showed up one day, looked around, liked what he saw and decided that he would move in and have us take cater to his every whim. He had obviously been well cared for but none of the neighbors knew where he came from. I named him Quasar (like the old television sets). Quasar wasn’t like other cats, he didn’t like to be petted and didn’t do the rubbing up against your leg thing. I dangled a string in front of his face one day trying to get him to play, he swatted at it but with his claws extended and looked at me as if to say “get that damn thing out of my face”. If you called to him he would come to you to see what you wanted but if he decided that you didn’t have anything to benefit him, namely food, he just gave you a “go to hell” look, turned around, flicked his tail up and gave you a view of his butt-hole as he walked away. His entire purpose in life seemed to be to eat, lick himself and sleep. He was just one cool cat.
The second thing you need to know is this. We had moved into the home I grew up in just two weeks after my first birthday. For as far back as I can remember, at random times but quite frequently something strange happened when I was alone in my bedroom, always when I was alone. The room had hardwood floors and no carpet. There was however a large braided oval rug placed in the center of the room and I usually sat there while I was playing with my toys. From time to time I would hear a whisper just behind my head. It was so soft that I could never determine if it was a male or female voice and it always only said one word, my name. I can remember a time when I would go to the top of the stairs and call down to my parents asking them what they wanted only to have them tell me that they hadn’t called for me. I soon figured out the difference between my parents calling me from somewhere downstairs and this low whisper. The voice always came from right at the back of my head, so close that I should have been able to feel breath on my hair. I always got a cold sinking feeling when it happened, goose bumps. When I looked behind me there was never anything there. There were times when the voice was so faint that I wondered if I was hearing it with my ears or inside of my head. Every single time I heard this I felt as if someone, or something was standing or sitting right behind me, I could feel a presence there. I would eventually resume playing and forget about it until it happened again.
Now to the story. I was home alone, in my room and it was about 2:30 or 3:00 in the afternoon. I was waiting for my friend Lisa to come over and hang out, she had to finish some chores before she could come over so I wasn‘t sure exactly what time to expect her. Lisa and I were going to paint our nails and I was sitting at my dresser looking at bottles of nail polish deciding what color I wanted to use. Quasar was laying on my bed asleep. I picked out a nail polish called “cotton candy pink” and set it aside. The dresser I was sitting in front of was an antique. It had a long mirror in the middle with a low shelf at the bottom and a raised section with drawers on either side, it looked like a chair with the mirror for the back and those two raised sections as arms. It had a little bench to go with it and that was what I was sitting on facing the mirror. The cat was on the foot of the bed to my left, sleeping.
On the wall behind me, in the far corner over my left shoulder was my closet. The house was built in 1920 and I don’t know what went on with house plans back then but the closet was just strange. I wasn’t very big and only had a metal rod running across it to hang clothes on. The attic access was from this closet and there as a square cut out of the ceiling with a board covering it from inside the attic space. If you needed to go into the attic you just pushed the board up and over to the side. The attic was just basically a craw space with insulation and wiring. It would have been difficult to access through that closet because the ceilings in that house were very high and a ladder would be necessary but not practical for use in the small space of the closet. The strangest thing about that closet was the fact that it had a window in it. Not a little window for decorative purposes from the outside, but a full window like all of the other rooms in the house. One might think that this section was originally something like a dormer house might have and it was later decided to enclose the space and use it for a closet but there was no indication along the wall that that had happened.
Another thing about the closet was the door. It had a very thick wooden door, like all of the other doors in the house, but this one had a key hole, one that would require one of those old heavy keys. Why would a closet need such a lock? The doorknob was one of those old heavy brass things but was broken. There was a knob on the bedroom side but the knob from inside the closet was missing. The doorknob had a long square section that was supposed to run through the door and connect the two knobs. The section inside the closet was just this long square section sticking out. The section had little hole drilled every little bit, some type of the inter-workings of the door knob I suppose. At some time in the past someone had taken a piece of metal, it looked like a part of a coat hanger, and twisted it through one of holes. The wire kept the doorknob from pulling out in your hand while you opened the closet.
Because of the issues with the door knob the closet door wouldn’t stay shut unless you closed it a certain way. You had to press your hand on the door itself and push in a bit while at the same time pulling slightly up on the knob and twisting to the left. This would cause the lock mechanism to engage and keep the door shut. To open the door you had to do the same thing in reverse.
Now there were times over the years when I would hear noises from inside the closet. Sometimes, if the wind was blowing really hard from that direction it would be the window in the closet rattling but other times it wasn’t. When it obviously wasn’t the wind I would always go over and open the closet door to see what it was. Now you may be saying “bullshit” because what pre-teen girl has the guts to go check out a strange noise in the closet. But remember, I grew up in that house with things like that happening all the time, I didn’t know for years that stuff like that didn’t happen in everyone’s houses, to me it was normal. Plus, I can’t stand things I can’t see, I think this is one of the reasons I hate clowns. Anyway, on the times when I would go check out the noise in the closet, and yes I was apprehensive but did it as quickly as I could, like pulling off a band-aid, I always found the exact same thing, nothing. When I told this story to my sons they ask why I didn’t use the flash light app on my phone or call 911. Okay, it was 1973, we were stuck somewhere between free loving hippies and God help us, disco. The biggest technological wonder of our era was the 8 track tape player. Calling for help required getting up and going to the phone plugged into the wall, putting your finger in the round hole and dialing the operator who would then transfer your call to the police station. When the call was finally answered, after you explained the situation, more times than not you had to give them directions to your location because there wasn’t GPS. Just so you know and don’t start calling me a dumb ass like my kids did.
So on this day I was sitting at the dresser facing the mirror when I heard Quasar hiss. This cat never did this as it required to much effort. I looked to my left at him laying on the bed and he had his head raised, fur standing up looking towards the closet. He hissed again, jumped from the bed and bolted from the room, this is the most active thing I had ever seen him do. Instead of looking over my shoulder towards the closet I looked back towards the mirror giving me a view of it from behind me over my left shoulder.
The door knob turned, the latch made a soft click and the door opened about an inch. I watched. The door opened about another inch. I waited. As I was staring at the door in the mirror I realized that something (other than the obvious) wasn’t right. Then I got it, there was no light coming from within the closet. There were no curtains on the window inside of the closet. My clothing was hanging from the metal rod but the window stuck up above that, and because it was daytime, light should have been coming from the opening. It was pitch black, whatever was in there was blocking all of the light. Shit! The door creaked open another inch, it is still black as night in the space and then I heard it. Same voice I had always heard but this time coming from the closet instead of just behind me. It was still a whisper but a louder whisper with a kind of hiss at it said my name.
Okay, time to go. I spun around, off the bench, through my door, down the 13 stairs (I don’t think my feet touched any of them) to the landing, turn right, down 4 more steps and across the living room to the front door. Quasar was sitting there looking at me as if to say “what took you so long?” I opened the door and we both ran out, him going to some unknown destination into the woods beside the house and me out on the sidewalk in front of the house. I’m pretty sure that you could have seen the bottoms of both of my feet at the same time during that exit. A gold medalist track star couldn’t have keep up, after all being 11 years old and scared shit-less beats all that Olympic training any day of the week.
Now, I am out in front of the house, holding my side an breathing extremely hard, I’m slightly bend over trying to get my self together. Lisa walks up and asks me what is wrong. In answer to her question I simply pointed up towards my bedroom window. We both looked in that direction and saw that the drapes and the sheer curtain between them was pulled to the side as if someone was holding them out of the way as they looked out of the window. Once again there was total blackness in the space. The is another window in that room off to the side and light should have been coming through it, we should have been able to see what was standing at that window looking down at us. After a few seconds the curtains fell back into place and about a second after that we could see the light coming from the other window.
I got my breathing under control and told her what had just happened. Lisa and I had been friends forever and she knew the history of the house, she had even seen things in the house herself. She was of the same mind set as I was, if you have to get out then get out, but when at all possible check it out and see if you can figure things out. So we both went back upstairs to my room. The curtains were hanging as they normally were and the closet door was shut as usual. She ask me to describe in detail what happened so I sat at the dresser and started telling her when I noticed that the nail polish I had set to the side wasn’t there. Something inside me clicked and I just knew. I went over to the closet and opened the door. There sitting on the floor, just inside the door was my bottle of “cotton candy pink” nail polish. The bottle was cold when I picked it up.

Story 4
Growing up I shared a house with a ghost I call Mr. Bowman. He was a good guy and I believe kept the other ghost in the house at bay most of the time in order to protect me. Mr. Bowman saved the life of a friend of mine, later saved both of our lives and still later saved mine once again. This is the story of how he saved my friend the first time.
I was 12 years old and 3 of my friends were spending the night with me. My friend Lisa, who I had been friends with since I was 6 and she was 5. There was also my friend Liz ( who I will call Liz 1, the reason for this will be apparent in just a minute) who was the same age as me and her younger sister Rhonda who was about 8 at the time. Liz 1 and I had been friends since we were about the age of 4, we met at the Sunday School in our church. We hung around at school and a lot on the weekends but not much during the weak as she lived on just on the outskirts of town and I lived near the center. Rhonda wasn’t always with Liz 1 when she came over but there were times when we couldn’t get out of having her come as well.
Because of the events that happened in my house during my years of living there we foolishly decided to get a Ouija Board and try to contact the dead. I saved up my allowance and bought the board for $1.97, the box still has the price tag sticker on it: yes, I still have it.
We lived in West Virginia in a coal mining community. There were many smaller communities that had their own schools K to 6 but when the 7th grade came around the kids from all of these outlining areas were bused into our middle school for the 7th and 8th grade and then we all continued to high school together for the last 4 years. This meant that every year in middle school we had a whole new batch of kids to get to know. School had been going on for about 2 months and while we knew the names of the new kids we really hadn’t gotten to know them personally. One of these kids was a girl named Liz (I will call her Liz 2). Liz 1, Liz 2, and Lisa remain my best friends to this day and it is partially due to the events relayed in this story that created the friendship between Liz 2 and myself. Later Liz 1 and Lisa would both move to another town and therefore attended a different high school leaving me and Liz 2 to continue on together. But this story takes place before any of us had even spoken anything more than “hello” to Liz 2.
Of course we decided to wait for midnight before trying to engage the spirits. We were down stairs in the dinning room that was more like a den because it was big enough to hold not only the dinning room table and chairs but a couch 2 recliners and television set. We sat in the floor in a circle around the board and had given Rhonda a pen and paper and told her to write down what we said.
None of us knew what to ask and just ask stupid stuff like “are you there?” “do you want to talk to us?”, just dumb stuff to which we got no response at all. So Liz 1, Lisa and I are sitting there with our fingers on the pointer trying to think of what to ask next when it started to move on its own. It spelled E-L-I-Z-A-B-E-T-H. So Liz 1 is freaking out telling me and Lisa to stop messing around and we both swore to her that it wasn’t us. It continued and spelled E-V-E-B-E-L-L and then Liz 2’s last name. The words after that was M-A-N, R-E-D H-A-N-D-K-E-R-C-H-I-E-F, B-A-C-K A-L-L-E-Y, A-T-T-A-C-K, D-E-A-D, T-O-M-O-R-R-O-W. So it said, man, red handkerchief, back alley, attack, dead, tomorrow. Then it went on to say: D-O N-O-T U-S-E T-H-I-S A-G-A-I-N, do not use this again.
Mr. Bowman had told us that Liz 2 was in danger and warned us against using the board, which I know now was really good advice. I have kept the board all of these years but have never used it again.
We tried to decide what to do, we found Liz 2’s phone number in the phone book but it we didn’t want to call so late. Remember, this was before cell phones and personal computers. We were not able to sleep that night, well except for Rhonda who really had no idea the importance of what had happened. At 6 a.m. we couldn’t stand it anymore and called Liz 2’s house. Thankfully she answered, we told her who we where and what had happened giving her the message that had came across the board. Instead of being grateful she got really mad and told us that this joke wasn’t funny and she didn’t appreciate us trying to scare her and pulling her name into some freaky séance. She demanded to know how we knew her middle name, Evebell, she hated that name and never told anyone what it was. She slammed down the phone and we all just looked at each other trying to decide what to do next. Our concern was genuine, we weren’t playing a sick game, the message was real. None of us could have known her middle name. We all felt bad but we couldn’t make her believe us, we had done the only thing we could do and that was warn her. After being up all night and exhausted, we all laid down and went to sleep.
Later that day, about 6 in the evening, the phone rang. It was Liz 2 calling to apologize, begging forgiveness and offering sincere thanks for the warning we relayed to her. She said that after talking with me, later in the morning, she and her mother had went out shopping. They had to go to a few different stores. One of the stores was a small mom and pop type store located off a section of road between our town and the next town over. The store was a good place to pop in if you just needed a thing or two but the princes were kind of high so if you were going to do any type of major shopping it was best to travel the extra few miles to a larger store. The mom and pop store did however have the best cuts of meat around, the owner cut the meat himself, ground the beef into hamburger, the whole nine yards and it was well worth the extra cost so a lot of folks would go in there just to buy meat.
Liz 2 said that she and her mom went into this store to buy some hamburger meat and once inside the store her mother ran into someone she wanted to talk to. Her mother instructed Liz 2 to go to the meat case and get a certain weight of ground chuck and bring it back up front to her. Liz 2 walked towards the back of the store to do as her mother had ask while her mother and the woman remained up front talking. Liz 2 said she had never picked out meat before and it took her a little while to see the writing on the packaging showing which were ground chuck and which were ground beef. She said there wasn’t a package with the weight her mother wanted to she was trying to match up two packages to add up to that weight. While standing at the meat counter she became aware that a man had walked up beside of her but she assumed that he was picking out something for himself and didn’t pay any attention to him. When she finally glanced his way she found that he was staring at her, he wasn’t looking at the meat at all. She tried to ignore this and continued searching the packages of meat. She said each time she glanced over the man was staring at her. The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a red bandana and used it to wipe his face although Liz 2 could see no reason he would need to do this. She looked around and realized that she was standing directly beside the back door to the store, the door that lead out side to the back alley. Just past that narrow alley was thick woods. She said she didn’t give it a second thought as she threw a package of hamburger at the man, turned and ran screaming to the front of the store. After calming her down her mother was able to determine that Liz 2 had been frightened by a man back by the meat counter. They, Liz 2, her mother, the mother’s friend and the cashier, walked to the back of the store. The hamburger package was laying on the ground, the back door was open but the man was no where to be seen. He had to have been up to no good to have bolted out the back like that.
Anyway, Liz 2 was extremely grateful for the message Mr. Bowman (and I am sure it was he who sent it) gave her that obviously saved her life. Through out all of our years of friendship we have never talked about that event except in the vaguest of terms and those were few and far between. She does not like to talk about it and I respect that. We are both in our 50’s now and on my last birthday she brought me a present. When I unwrapped the gift I could only smile, it was a ceramic trivet, the kind you use in the kitchen to sit hot things on, and the decoration on top is the exact same as a Ouija board. She didn’t have to say it, but I knew, she was telling me that we wouldn’t have been friends all of these years if it hadn’t been for that board all those years ago.

Story 5
The second time the ghost in my house saved a life he saved not only my friend Liz but me as well. If you have read my earlier story you will know that in that tale I called her Liz 2 but that isn’t necessary this time because by the time of this story the other Liz had moved away and wasn’t involved in these events.
We were both 14 years old and freshman in high school. Our school was broken up into 3 buildings, with a main building that held all of the regular classes, English, History and the like. The middle building was for business classes and the third building was the gym, auditorium and band room. The main building held the lockers and Liz and I would go there before our last class, which was band, drop off our books and head on up to the gym building.
All of the buildings sat back off the street up on a hill. We live in West Virginia and there are a lot of hills. To get to each building you had to walk up steps, up a long walkway, up more steps and into the buildings. There was a side walk up on the hill that you could walk on between the buildings without having to go all the way down the front walk and most of the time we used this path. However, we always went down the front walk and walked to band class using the sidewalk by the street. This was because there was a small store at the top of the hill across the street that we would duck into and buy something to drink or a snack before going to band class.
There was a stone wall that ran along the side of the sidewalk next to the school. This was used to keep the dirt from eroding from the hill the school was built on. The wall was a bit high at the bottom end and gradually got lower as you walked up the hill because the lay of the land changed. Up on the school lawn between the main building and the second building stood a large monument with an eagle on top and some words on a plague. I think it was something to do with some state championship some team from years gone by had won but I never understood the eagle because that was not our school mascot. Anyway, that was the how the school was situated.
We had been back to school for a while, about 2 months when I had the first dream. In the dream it was winter, snow and ice was on the ground and Liz and I were walking up the sidewalk going towards the gym. We both had on heavy winter coats and boots. In the dream I see things not from the prospective of myself in the dream but as an outsider watching from a distance. As we travel up the hill we hear our friend Scott call down to us “which one of you fine ladies would like the pleasure of my company tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the eagle statue. (Interesting side note: I would marry Scott years later). We looked back up at him and was making our usual replies, joking around with him and didn’t notice the green Nova that had came up over the hill above us on the main road. The car had been going to fast and when faced with the downward hill on this side, covered with snow and ice, couldn’t get under control. It continued down the hill, still going much to fast for the conditions and right at the last second it changes course, jumps the sidewalk and slams into Liz and I therefore pinning us between it and the stone wall. The impact was fierce. The dream ends.
I dream all the time but something about this one stuck. It was so vivid and so real. It bothered me but that wasn’t the first time a dream had disturbed me so I shook it off. About a week later I had the dream again, the exact same dream with no deviation at all. Then a few nights after that I had the dream a 3rd time. Now, I didn’t want to tell Liz about it because she is very superstitious and this would have scared her. She and I had actually gotten to know each others years prior due to a situation with a Ouija board and she seriously didn’t like to mess around with stuff like that. She would always kick over one of her shoes so that they were not sitting side by side in an upright position. I ask her once why she did that and she told me that if you leave your shoes sitting up a ghost can stand in them and then when you put them back on you will think their thoughts. After all of the stuff I had seen growing up I was in no position to judge and let it go.
Liz spent the night with me New Years Eve and in the morning told me that she had a very strange dream the night before. She told me about the two of us walking up the hill in front of the school, that we were looking up towards the eagle statue and didn’t see a car coming as it lost control and smashed into us just before the dream ended. Okay, since she brought it up, I ask her if the car was a green Nova and she just stared at me, then I ask if the reason we were looking up at the eagle statue was because Scott had called out to us, and then I repeated what he had said. She was white as a ghost and ask how I knew that and I proceeded to tell her that I had the same dream three times. So she freaks out but there’s nothing to do about it. She suggested that we never use that sidewalk again and for several weeks we didn’t. Then we got back into our old routine of using that way to go to the gym each day.
Near the end of February it happened. We were walking up the hill, snow and ice on the roads, neither one of us thinking about that dream. Then we hear Scott call down to us from his position my the eagle statue “which one of you fine ladies would like the pleasure of my company tonight”. We didn’t say anything, and we both moved at the same time, dropping our things we both jumped up onto the stone wall as was scrambling up the hill as the car crashed into the wall behind us. Scott ran towards us, he wanted to help and make sure we were okay. He looked down at the car, back to us and said “You both jumped the wall before the car was near you. How did you know?” We didn’t answer him, it was just to hard to explain.

Note: the woman in the Nova hit her head but was otherwise fine.

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