When I was serving in the Air Force, back in 1982, I was stationed for a six month tour on the Island of Guam. I was a flight crew attendant, on the B-52 G models, my position was tail gunner. I was doing a modes check one day, checking out my system, to assure that it was workable, when I saw someone standing behind me, via my peripheral vision. At first I thought it was my counterpart, the Electronics Warfare Officer, so I didn’t pay much attention, and continued my diagnosis of the modes check.
It was then that I heard on the headphones, my E.W. talking. He was in the bomb bay with the Co-pilot and the Crew Chief, and asked me if I was almost completed. I knew that there were only four of us there at the plane, and I heard all three of the others speaking on the headset. It was then that I turned around to see who it was that was standing behind me. I have never had any experience quite like what I saw. I could not believe what I was looking at, and I was stunned, to say the least.
I saw a man, a captain, by his rank insignia, standing there, in a flight suit. His arms were crossed, as though he were waiting impatiently, and from his shoulders up, there wasn’t any head! I let out a yell over the headset, urging my fellow crewmembers to get to where I was, as I was, nervous to say the least! As I began telling them why, it was then that the figure slowly faded, and in a matter of seconds, was gone. When I calmed down a bit, I began telling my crewmembers what I had seen. Surprisingly, the Crew Chief, who had been stationed there the longest, told me that he not only believed me, but that I was not the first one to see what I saw. It was then he told me the story that I am about to tell you.
During the Vietnamn War, there was a period, referred to as the Nine Day war. Many B-52 Bombers were stationed at Guam during this time frame, so as to be within range to fly missions over Vietnamn. The Landing strip at Guam is a very unique one. It starts out on a high grade, goes downhill, then starts up hill again, like a giant V. At the end of the runway, as a plane gains speed going downhill, it approaches S1, and then going uphill, looses speed, until it reaches the end of the runway. So, as you can understand, because of this unique factor, the aircraft commander, must reach a very high rate of speed in order to become airborne. But, that is only the first part, for at the end of the runway, is a sheer drop off, into a bay.
The story goes that this Captain, was attempting to fly out of Guam, to accomplish a bombing mission, but did not have enough speed to successfully make the run. The Bomber, (according to what I was told) crashed into the bay, where it could be seen in the clear water, and because of the depth, was left there. The crewmembers lost were salvaged, but the pilot, a captain, lost his head, and the head was never recovered from the crash. According to the crew chiefs, and other pilots, this captain has been seen over the years, by many. Whether he is still looking for his head or not, I do not know, all I know is that I saw him, and will never forget it for the rest of my life.
Anyone who has ever served time at Guam, I am sure has not only heard of this story, but most likely, knows of it, or has had a personal experience. I was told I was not the first, and I suspect I was not the last. Well, believe it or not, that is my story. I can only add that on a "Wierd Meter" of 1-10, with ten being really, really wierd, that experience punched a fifteen by my standards.
Ever since I was a small child I have been able to sense spirits but because of a few bad experiences I have become slightly afraid of ’ghosts’.
It all started when I was around 8 or 9 when I was staying the night at my mother’s house(I lived with my grandmother)and my mother let me have a friend come over to her house to spend the night with me. We were in my room watching a horror movie when all the light in my room went out leaving us in complete darkness. We were both sitting there to scared to move but suddenly the door started to open and when it was completely open me and my friend, Isabel, saw a tall dark figure. It started to walk towards us and I screamed "Mommy!" When I did the dark figure disappeared.
My mother ran into my bedroom, and she asked us what was wrong. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me so we told her we got scared because the lights went out. My mom looked at the light switch and said the lights went off because someone turned them off. Me and Isabel were shocked to say the least because we weren’t near the light switch. After that I neither went into that room again nor did I go back that house. That was around 6 years ago and more things have happened.
A friend of mine who can see spirits told me that I had a ’shadow’ following me, when she sees a spirit they look like a shadow until they show her what they look like, but because of my past experiences with spirits I was afraid to be truthful. She told me to not be afraid, because the shadows like scaring people and if I showed I was afraid they would just keep scaring me. I have never seen this spirit but my friend told me his name and what he looked like. I have seen him but not what he looks like. Like my friend I saw the spirit, Kade, as a shadow and I have gotten used to his presence. There are times when he scares me a little but I’m used to it. Kade has never tried to hurt me and I feel safe around him. When I’m alone I like to talk to him even though I don’t get an answer to some questions. I consider Kade a friend. Most people would say I’m crazy...but I have seen death several times in my life...I fully believe that I do see,and or sense,spirits whether its from me facing death so many times or what I know Kade is a good spirit and that he won’t hurt me.
This was in 1972, my dad had got a farm job and the man that he worked for let him have this farm house with it. We were not going to live there that long because my dad was just trying to make money to get us back on our feet. The house was big and had a white fence around the back of the house.
As we were driving up into the yard, I heard my dad tell my mother that the house was ok but we were not allowed in the back yard because there was a grave back there and it had fence built around it so that no one could get in. And the only way to get in was to go out of the back door. Well the first chance I got I went to take a peek because I didn’t believe that he had moved us into a house with a grave in the yard. It was a huge mound of dirt in the middle of the yard with a home made wooden cross on it.
The first night there after everyone went to bed, I heard some one walking through the house dragging their feet. But I knew that could not be, because the floor was made of wood. I woke up the next morning and my dad was asking who had been up walking during the night, and we all thought that it was him. Well he went to work and we helped mom put things up, we didn’t get it all put up so mom said we would finish the next day. Well that night once again when we went to bed and everyone was sleep it started again. This time I heard the back door come open, and then you could hear a sound like cooking pots where being unpacked. Then you could hear a sound like beans pouring into a pot, the backdoor shut with a bang and the screen door shut afterwards.
The next day I found that my dad and mother had heard it too, my dad went to go check the back door but it was locked and the screen. He went to work me and my brother were watching American Bandstand and my mother had put my little sister on top of the dining table, she was about 1 or 2 months old. And the table was so large that it could seat 8 people. She folded a blanket and put her on it in the middle of the table. I remember going into the kitchen and my mom was at the stove and my sister was asleep. I turned around and went back into the living room and sat down beside my brother to watch TV, I turned around and my mother was standing in the doorway, looking at me and my brother and just at that moment we heard loud crash and then my sister screamed out plus the back screen door slammed shut afterwards. We ran into the kitchen and my sister was lying up against the kitchen wall and the blanket she was on, was also on the floor. It was like someone or something had swiped her off the table. Her eyes were rolling back into her head and her mouth was bleeding. I ran to the back door to see if it was open and both doors were locked. We moved out that night.
My family and I moved to Stroud street in 1997, when I was four years old. Anytime one of us refers to "the old stroud house", there’s always immediate tension. Although it has been beautifully remodeled, we still fall silent whenever we go back to that town and happen to pass by it.
We were a poor family, and it was a cheap find. $300 a month for two bedrooms in a decent town seemed like a miracle. My father was a recovering alcoholic, and needed a stable environment that was far away from the roots of his disease. This place felt like a second chance, a lucky break in life. If only we had known how wrong that was.
My brother was twelve at the time, and he was the first of us to experience odd things in the house. He’s always been a logical person, so we found it strange when he started taking jogs at two in the morning. We shared a room, and I was often awoken by him shuffling around for his running clothes and shoes. He didn’t seem to like being home at night.
When confronted about the issue, he told my parents it was nothing. He stuck to that until one day, he came running and shouting from the bathroom. He claimed that my mother’s hair dryer was flipping repeatedly from high to low levels, and then off, with no evident cause. That’s when he admitted that he thought "something" was trying to drive him crazy. He revealed that he had been discovering his possessions mysteriously moved to unlikely places (i.e. the kitchen, bathroom cabinet, even the backyard). This would have been entirely normal for myself or my disorganized mother. My father and brother were fairly precise people, though. My brother also complained that he was being disturbed by footsteps through the hall. He was tired of checking night after night, only to find the hallway empty.
Our parents saw his complaints as natural childhood fears. My father tended to mock the issue. He always felt that a humorous approach could lighten any situation. Therefore, when I began seeing "Smokey", he simply laughed and said we should invite my "little friend" to dinner some time.
I was up late one night, as I often was due to very unsettling nightmares. I recall watching the TV guide roll through while I sat on the living room floor. I was five by then, and couldn’t read much. I just liked the TV guide’s steady movement and color palette. I’m not sure why I looked up, I just suddenly felt that I should. That’s when I saw what I called "Smokey". It was in the corner of the ceiling, and really didn’t have much of a form. It just looked like a collection of revolving smoke. The odd thing I’ll never forget is that I wasn’t afraid at all. I was actually slightly hypnotized by it. That is, until I woke up the next morning. I ran to my parents, terrified. I had apparently fallen asleep right there on the floor. My mother was alarmed by my intensity, but she still wouldn’t let herself believe that it was anything legitimate.
That event was forgotten until we brought our pitbull, Bullet, home. He was a very good tempered animal at first. Our family began losing significant sleep when he decided to relentlessly bark at the corner that I saw "Smokey", though. He stopped eating, drinking, playing, or anything except staring and grumbling at that same spot.
That was when my mother came clean about some of her own irking experiences. She silenced herself after my father’s angry response. He found it childish that she would succumb to such nonsense. He responded to a lot of things angrily those days. He had a background of mental setbacks, but it wasn’t until we lived there for a few years, that he was diagnosed with severe schizophrenia. He fell off the deep end. He started drinking again, hearing voices, taking multiple antidepressants, and began getting rid of things he blamed for our family’s ridiculousness. He had no valid reason for selling Bullet, really. No valid reason except that he felt the dog was to blame for us believing the house was haunted. He had formed many bizarre ideas like that.
Things got unbearable after my father decided to walk through the house and do his own "exorcism". He made us follow him and shout mocking things to the air. He called the spirit a "coward", commanded it to prove itself, etc. He acted as if he’d won a grammy when nothing immediately happened.
From then on, not a day went by without lights flickering, items disappearing, dishes breaking, and company being too uncomfortable to visit. My father decided to admit defeat and find out the history of our house.
The previous tennants were an older couple with no family but eachother. The woman became the town loon after her husband passed away. She told people that she couldn’t stay in the house because her husband’s spirit kept her up at night. She was bothered by his footsteps constantly pacing the hallway. My father made the decision to move us out after that.
We found a nice place in a neighboring town. My father fell in love with it because it reminded him of his grandfather’s house. We were due to move in after a few weeks.
My mother, brother, and I did move in. My father didn’t because he died in the stroud house. I was nearing eight years old. It would be foolish to credit ghosts for his death. I wouldn’t even think of playing with that idea. He had ruined his liver by mixing so many antidepressants with excessive alcohol. He was his own demise.
My brother and I have a bet these days. The neighbors we had on Stroud were our best childhood friends. They kept us updated on new tennants until they also moved a couple of years ago. My brother and I have always bet on how long each new tennant would last before packing up and moving. It’s usually an average of four months or so. The place looks perfectly innocent now. Where once was a $300 monthly dump, is now a $900 monthly beauty. For some reason, that doesn’t seem to help it hold onto tennants. I’d like to pretend that I don’t know why. But instead, I see another different family there, and feel sad for them. Then I turn to my brother and say, "I give three months for this one". He chuckles as the tension lifts and says, "You’re on."
In the summer of 2011, I was spending the night at my best friend’s house. We had the TV on in the background, talking about random things. Her parents and sisters were at the grocery store. The front door kept opening-very slowly may I add. We brushed it off as forgetting to make sure the door was locked. Unfortunately, when we checked the door it was locked and the screen door was too. It happened a total of fifteen times. At this point we became irritated and decided to inspect around the outside of her house. The car was gone from the driveway and no one was around.
Another incident happened about four weeks after that. We were upstairs in her older sister’s bedroom, looking over several articles about the paranormal. We decided to go downstairs and get something to eat. Passing the guest bedroom, Araceli ran over to me. She told me that a hand had touched her shoulder. Hurrying down the stairs, we both halted. In her father’s bedroom was a shadow. It turned and the eyes were glowing red, whilst the claws outstretched and moaned, "Help me." terrified, we ran into the kitchen. Her family was yet again, not anywhere inside or near the house.
The last incident at her house was another freaky experience. Even after experiencing the paranormal, we decided to use an Ouija board. A stupid mistake? Yes.
We were in her bedroom setting the board up. We gathered crosses and said a prayer. I don’t think it helped, because I’m an Athiest...we began asking questions about the spirit. Araceli was getting freaked out, because I had asked when we were going to die and personal questions I didn’t even know about her. She immediately left, fleeing into the bathroom. I decided to keep communicating. I asked if the entity liked Araceli, and it answered with a no. I wanted to see for myself, so I asked her to come back into the room. My head started hurting, like a heavy pressure was weighing down on it. I asked her to come back inside a few more times and yet again, the pressure reappeared. Being my curious and paranormal loving self, I asked for proof of it’s existence. I removed my finger and the penny inched toward the three. I ended the session, dragging Araceli downstairs and out to the back patio. Again, her family wasn’t around.
We were talking, acting like none of that happened. When all of the sudden, I heard an inhuman, glass shattering scream directly in my ear. I jumped up and had Araceli sit in my seat. She didn’t hear anything like that-proving it wasn’t the baseball players, in the field behind her house. My ear hurt for two hours after that. Her house has been blessed fifteen times!
A month later, the experiences stopped altogether. When school started back up, they reappeared. The first experience was when I was lying wide awake in bed. My eyes were closed, though. I felt a brush of coldness along my neck, which swept my hair from it. I sat up and watched a white figure disappear into my bathroom. I noticed my door wide awake, remembering how my Dad had shut it before he went to bed. I was kind of scared to close it, so I slept under my blanket that night.
The second experience happened at school. I was sitting in ELA class, when my chair was kicked from behind. I just blamed it on my friend, Alonnie, who sits behind me. I turned around to make sure, but no one was there. I then asked Marcus and he said he didn’t do it. Emily said the same and Jacob, who sits in front of me, felt my desk hit the back of his chair. So, that ruled out the fact not only had it been directly from behind, but the desk definitely moved.
The third experience was yesterday. I was taking my dogs for a walk and my parents were with me. About a ten minute walk from home, I heard rustling and feet slapping against pavement, from behind but off to the side of me. My parents were a good fifteen feet away and I fast walked to catch up. My mom had a pair of bags in her hand that crunched when she walked, so I decided to let it go. I then heard the same sound, except the bags were crunching at the same time-the sounds were totally different from eachother. I glanced back several times, not seeing anything and the rustling and feet movements stopped. I started walking and heard the "feet" pick up speed and I started panicking. My parents didn’t seem to notice, neither did my dogs. Even though they can sense even a pin dropping. So, I don’t know if it’s the spirit I let out of the board or my own paranoia making these up.
I lost my dear Dad (Henry) in March of 2011. It was likely one of the most poignant times in my life as I had never lost anyone close to me. I have been struggling with the fact that I don’t feel him, I never dream about him even though I talk to him often. I like to think that the dimes, pennies and feathers I find are him saying hello but I still had nothing concrete so that I would know he is with me.
In April of this year (2012), I was meeting my niece at the cemetary so that I could show her where my sister is buried (she passed before I was born). My niece was running late and so I waited for a bit by myself. I took the opportunity to talk with my dad. I said out loud that this would be a good time for a sign as I was all alone and that I would love something from him. Ten or so minutes passed and nothing happened. My niece had not arrived yet so I shrugged it off and drove around the cemetary. As I went up and around a hill, I noticed a tombstone with a beautiful angel that had been placed there. It caught my eye and I was drawn to it. So drawn, that I pulled my car over and parked. I got out and walked toward the stone. I could not see the front of it as I approached it. I joked with myself and thought "Wouldn’t it be funny if it said ’Hi Tammy’." Hahaha. Well, I turned the corner to look at the angel that drew me and there on the stone was my name!! Not the correct spelling...but definately my name "Tammie". I stood there in disbelief briefly but I don’t think you could have wiped the smile off my face with a full open palm slap! I know there are skeptics, but I know that was my Dad!! I take it as a gift and all I can say is out of the thousands of stones in that cemetary, why on earth would I be drawn to that particular one after just having asked my Dad for a sign. You may say it’s a coincidence, but I say it is LOVE and its wonderful to know that we go on and watch over our family just as my Dad watches over me.
P.S. Thanks Dad..I miss you too.