On the whole, I believe myself to be a relatively practical person. I may love Fantasy and SciFi and have an abiding love for the fantasy worlds of fiction, but in general I think I have my feet firmly grounded in reality. That doesn’t mean of course that I don’t believe in the paranormal because of course I do. Doesn’t everyone? No matter how much you may deny it in the cold light of day, isn’t there a moment during the dark of night when the wind is rattling the windows, and things are going bump somewhere in the darkness that you find yourself wondering if all those ghost stories you heard as a kid were real? That maybe there are monsters and bogeymen and spirits in the planes beyond our sight? No? Then let me tell you a true story and I dare you to give me a ‘rational’ explanation for it.
Many years ago, when I was about 6 and my sister was about 4, our parents and us lived together with our grandparents in a large house in a busy city. Every evening, my father would go to the store and get bread and milk and anything else we might need for breakfast the next morning and place it in the kitchen. My grandparents were early risers and were usually the first ones up, followed by my parents and then (unwillingly) by my sister and I so we all breakfasted at different times. It was summer break and this routine suited us all and rarely fluctuated.
Until one day when things turned out just a little differently.
That morning my grandparents got up early as usual and headed to the kitchen to have breakfast. The only problem? They could not find the bread. They looked in the kitchen, in the dining room, in the living room, even in the bathroom in case my father had decided to store it in the medicine cabinet in a fit of forgetfulness or something.
They woke up my dad and asked him if he had even gotten bread the night before and he swore he had and had placed it in the kitchen the same as he always did. Everyone was awake by now and no one could find that staple of the breakfast table, though it wasn’t from want of trying. Eventually we gave up and just accepted that we would never find the bread and left it at that.
That’s when we heard a sound from the dining room, like something hitting the dining table. My mother, like the female protagonist in any good horror movie, went to investigate and, well lets just say she found the bread. It just wasn’t where anyone had thought to look.
When my mother entered the dining room, she saw slices of bread on the dining table which obviously hadn’t been there 5 mins ago when everyone was tearing the house apart looking for them. Even as she watched, another slice fell to the table with a soft thump and that’s when she looked up. The loaf of bread that my family had been hunting for was sitting quietly on top of the ceiling fan, the wrappings open, slices falling now and then from the slowly rotating fan (which by the way was turned off).
To this day we don’t know how the bread ended up on the ceiling fan or why it fell as it did or how the fan was moving when it was off and there wasn’t any wind to make it spin either. My parents are a serious pair and don’t go in for practical jokes and neither do my grandparents. So who put the bread on the ceiling fan?
Say what you will but that is one incident that I cannot explain and even my parents secretly believe it to be the work of some other entity though of course they weren’t going to say that to a bunch of pre-schoolers, not if they hoped to ever detach said pre-schoolers from their legs.
So yes, I believe in ghosts. I believe that there are beings that exist that we simply cannot see and that sometimes, these beings manifest themselves in interesting and/or disturbing ways. Some like to open doors or make things go bump in the night. Others apparently like to relocate breakfast items to unlikely places.
Do YOU believe in ghosts?
Happy Halloween everyone! Do you have any ghost stories to share?