The Southsider Voice
Visit us at these places!
  • Home
  • News
    • Top Stories
    • Sports
    • Car Nutz
    • Stilley Goes Trackside
    • Southside Deaths
    • Personal Recollections
    • Reminiscing
  • About the Voice
  • Advertising
  • Contact
  • Newspaper Archive
  • Classifieds

A GHOST STORY

10/30/2014

1 Comment

 
Picture

By Tess Baker

My good friend Jean died October 18, 2013 after a short illness. When she became ill, I started going to the senior citizens luncheons that Jean attended, wanting to know her better. She would pick a seat across the table from me, always looking at me with her brown eyes. It was hard to read what she was thinking.

She introduced me to everyone as Eddie Carpenters’ daughter. Jean was a coworker with my dad in the 40’s when they both worked at a meat packing plant. She loved talking about the old days and I loved listening.

I went to her funeral but didn’t go to the cemetery. I felt guilty but was mentally and physically drained and just wanted to go home.

The next morning I sat down on the couch and dozed off. I had been sleeping half an hour when I became aware of something that felt like a hand, caressing my cheek. As I woke up gradually, the hand slowly went away. It seemed like Jean, letting me know she understood and was ok.

But it wasn’t ok. Other things started happening as soon as I put my Christmas decorations out after Thanksgiving. I brought out my battery operated candles, consisting of 6 candlesticks, and several thicker candles, all requiring batteries. The candlesticks need to be screwed in by the light bulb in order to go on.

Shortly after they were out on the windowsill, the candles started going on by themselves and I thought that I just didn’t turn them off all the way. I started making sure they were turned off.  Then one evening, right after I had told my husband JB about “the ghost,” the candlesticks started lighting, one by one, in secession! It happened right at nightfall.  I left the candles on and went to bed.

The next morning, the candles were all off. I asked JB if he turned them off and he said no. I went over and made sure the candles were not touching the batteries. A moment later one of the candles came back on by itself! 

Later that week, JB couldn’t find his address book and was certain he left it on the nightstand along with other things needed for work. Everything in his pocket was found in with his clothes in the washing machine; his magnetic identification card to gain access to buildings at work; his chapstick—all important enough that he was very careful not to misplace them.  So here was another thing we blamed on our strange unwelcome guest.

One morning after Christmas, I was in bed half asleep and felt something move under the mattress. It moved again, suddenly, then nothing. So was it really there? JB and I started talking about the things he had seen and heard and I told him about the mattress. Something moving under the mattress wasn’t possible. It was very new and had no tears or rips—there was nothing that should be moving!

I went to my favorite psychic friend, Molly with my story.  “Someone is trying to get your attention,” she said as she described a man she called James Mills. He had lived in the area near our home about 200 years ago. Her voice went on in a monotone about James’ life, his violent past, his wealth, and his episode of violence against his wife. But he wasn’t violent now. He was “stuck” here on earth and didn’t believe he could ever leave. Because of his suicide, he felt unworthy of Heaven. He was truly a ghost.

Molly told me he had hung himself and his neck was leaning to the side—that was how she knew he had not transitioned.  I suddenly realized she was describing someone she could “see” and she confirmed that James was standing behind me with his neck at an odd angle lying on his shoulder. The little room we were in got much smaller. My hair was tingling on the back of my neck.

Molly spoke again and told me what to do to help James to go “to the other side.”  I was to pick a time close to 8pm because that is when he hung himself. I needed to light candles in a circle, turn off all other lights, and tell him to go to the light. I needed to tell him that his wife (her name was Sherry) was waiting for him and would welcome him home. His stillborn child was also there, waiting. I was to repeat this over several times and say the 23rd psalm because it was his favorite.  I did what Molly told me to do and the incidents started to cease.

It is fall again a year later and the candles are out on the windowsill. I am hoping James made it home.




1 Comment

Simply Sherri

10/29/2014

0 Comments

 
 It’s October. And once again, you won’t see me within a 50-mile radius of a haunted house.

Here’s the deal. I am the biggest fraidy cat you will ever meet. When weirdo people drag out the vampire teeth and chain saws, this chick heads for the hills. 


I’m not down with anything terrifying. 


When I was barely 16, I accidentally took my brother to see a crazy scary movie at the drive-in. Even with the speakers turned off, I spent the evening on the floor board of my cramped little Gremlin.

 
I confess that yes, I ruined Halloween for my kid.


“Mama, can I be Jason for Halloween?”


“Who’s Jason?” I asked blankly because fraidy cats like me do NOT watch scary movies.


“He’s this killer guy ...”


“No.”


“Why?”


“No murder. No zombies. No skeleton heads.”


“But ...” 


“You know the choices for costumes,”  I snapped.


“A pirate or a cowboy? Again?” My son whined.


“OK, an astronaut is okay. You’d make a really cute ninja, too.”


“But I want to be scary.”


“Nope,” I said. “Scary stuff is against the rules.  We don’t do blood and guts around here. Be a nice trick-or-treater or don’t be one at all”


“Other kids will make fun of me,” My son said. “If I show up again this year in a lame costume, they will call me a sissy. Again.”


“You can stay home tonight and help your lame mama pass out candy,” I said nicely since I secretly wished he would skip the costume party. That way, he could be in charge of trick-or-treaters. 


Passing out candy is high stress for me. Some of the older kids, dressed in monster attire, make me feel faint. A few times, I was so overcome by good, old-fashioned fear that I forgot they were children instead of goblins.

 
Afraid for my life, I hurled bite-size candy bars at them. I only intended to scare them away from the door, but I made a couple of the kids cry ... by accidentally nailing them in the face with torpedoed chocolates.

I might also be the only adult in America who has never seen “The Exorcist” or any other horror flick. 


“Haven’t you ever watched a scary movie with a guy?” My friends asked.


“Uh, no,”


“It can be very romantic.”


“What can possibly be romantic about doing a nose dive into the couch cushions and then peeing my pants in front of  a man?” I growled.


“They’re only movies,” My friends reminded.


“To you, maybe,” I sighed. “But to me, they can cause heart failure or hyperventilation. To me ...”


“Alright,” my friends rolled their eyes. “We get the picture. You’re a cowardly bore.”


That is exactly right. And if I ever get the hankering to be tortured by fear, I’ll just turn on the news. 

    
A former Southsider and an award-winning journalist and humor writer, Sherri Coner resides in southwest Florida. To learn about her books for women and to join her on Facebook, visit www.sherriconer.com. She also speaks to women’s groups.     
0 Comments
<<Previous
    Picture

    Archives

    March 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

 DROP OFF: The Toy Drop 6025 Madison Ave., Suite D
Indianapolis, IN  46227  |  317-781-0023
MAILING ADDRESS: P.O. Box 17187, Indianapolis, IN 46217

[email protected] | [email protected]
Website by IndyTeleData, Inc.