Man in the Mirror

Man in the Mirror (as told by my Mother and Aunt)

Many things happened to us while living in the house on Clinton Avenue. My brothers, sisters and I quickly learned never to wander the house alone. After the incident with the phone, Suzanne refused to take go into the bathroom alone. So each night we sat with one another when we showered.

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On this particular night, she said she would shower first. I sat on the toilet to talk to her. The bathroom wasn't very large, you'd walk in through the door and directly in front of you stood the mirror and sink. To the left was the toilet, followed by the shower.

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When she finally finished she slid the curtain back and stepped out. While she was drying herself I got my things ready. Just as I was about to step in, she removed the towel from her head to wipe away the steam collected on the bathroom mirror. I looked up while she did this, I guess force of habit to see yourself in the mirror when we both saw it.

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Standing behind us in the mirror was a old man. His face was white, he was balding and his face was motionless. It didn't take long for us to begin screaming, we bolted for the door.

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Suzanne grabbed the knob and began to turn frantically, it wouldn't open. She struggled with it, pushing and pulling, twisting right and left. We were too afraid to look back into the room and began crying for Mom. She knew something was wrong and had run up as soon as she heard our first cry. She was already at the other side of the door, trying to open it.

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She kept screaming back "what's wrong?? what is it??" and we yelled in turn, "get us out, please! open the door!"

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Then we heard Mom start praying. She was saying the lord's prayer, it came out jumbled because she was saying it so quickly. She stopped saying the prayer to tell us our Father was fetching a screw driver to remove the door off the hinges.

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It turns out that wasn't necessary because the door suddenly opened. I was left staring at my Mom, naked as the day I was born. I rushed to her in tears, my sister close behind me.

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When we looked into the mirror again, the man was gone.

The Message

I actually witnessed this myself. Not so much a ghost story per say but still amazing none the less.

The Message

He was only 45 when he died. A husband, father, grandfather and friend. He never made it out of surgery to repair his heart. His family was devastated.

The funeral was heart breaking. He left behind two sons and three grandsons. His wife sat to the far right end of the viewing room, constantly surrounded by some person or another. Each paying their respect to her and offering condolences for this loving man, gone too soon.

That night, Belle (his widow) commented that she missed him so much, she only wished she could see him one more time to tell him she loved him. The next day she dressed to say goodbye one last time to the love of her life.

After the funeral, she arrived home with her sons, grandsons, and a few other family members. As everyone climbed out of the car, Belle walked toward the front lawn. A balloon was tangled in her flower bed. She pulled the balloon free and looked down at it.

She began to cry and dropped to the ground. Everyone rushed to her side, her sons trying to lift her to her feet. But she pushed everyone off and motioned toward the balloon in her hands. Like most helium balloons the back was silver and the front was a mixture of green flowers. Written in cursive writing were three words.

I Miss You.

Midnight Visitors

Another story shared with me. This time by my Mom and Uncle. The house still stands, as does the one on Clinton. They both are in close proximity to the old cemetary I mention, established in 1822. Alot of the houses located here have a history of unexplained activity.

Midnight Visitors (as told to me by my Mom and Uncle)

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I was 19 when I went to stay with my sister. She had one child, was pregnant with another and my brother also lived there. The house was located on Wellman, close to the nearby Maple Hill Cemetery.

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The house was small, one floor, with an attic. Each night I'd make up my bed on the couch while my brother pulled out his own cot and prepared it to settle down for the evening. Johnny loved to talk to me late into the night, we talked until our eyes grew heavy and we finally drifted off to sleep. Each and every night he always told me there were ghosts in the house and I would tell him to stop trying to scare me. After our scare on Clinton Avenue, I didn't take the ghost thing lightly.

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One night I woke to my foot being shaken roughly. I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep. I struggled to open my eyes and adjust my ears to his whispering. His words came out rushed.

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"Marilyn, listen!" he shook my foot harder.

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"Stop it Johnny!" I hissed. I tried to pull my foot from his hand.

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"Shh!" he released my foot and leaned forward to place his hand gently over my mouth. "Listen!"

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I sat still and listened. I could hear the tic-toc-tic from the clock on the wall but other than that the house was silent. I was about to thank him for waking me up when I heard it. At first I couldn't identify the noise, it was creaky and forceful and very loud in the otherwise deafening quiet. It suddenly dawned on me, it was the attic hatch being pulled down.

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"Oh, real funny. Who's in on this? Is that you Marie?" I raised my voice an felt Johnny's' hand clamp over my mouth.

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"It's not Marie!" he tried to keep his words at a whisper. "I told you and you didn't believe me, just sit still and listen!"

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I looked into his face, it was a mixture of panic, nervousness, excitement and I could swear a twinge of fear. I settled back and listened as the sound of the attic steps came down, followed by very soft footsteps. I froze, fear and wonder overtaking me.

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The footsteps continued down the hall and into the kitchen. I gasped when I heard the chairs being pulled out from under the table. Johnny placed his finger over his lips and motioned for me to remain quiet and so I did. I was paralyzed in fear.

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Then I heard the faint voices. You couldn't make out any words nor any voices, just very soft whispers into the night. It was surreal and frightening.

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My brother and I sat there for a very long time, listening to those whispers, until eventually, they stopped. I sat there in the dark living room, huddled under my blanket, afraid to move.

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My eyes open as sun shone in through the window and I was glad for it. I looked to Johnny's cot and it was empty. I realized I had somehow managed to fall asleep the night before. Quickly I made my way into the kitchen, hesitating as I rounded the corner.

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I was greeted by the sight of my niece sitting in her high chair nibbling on dry cheerios, her Mother sat across from her drinking a cup of coffee. I stood staring for second before finally taking a seat at the large round table.

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"Johnny said you finally heard them." Marie took a sip of her coffee. I watched as she reached over to push cheerios back onto the high chair surface before they fell onto the floor.

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"I thought you all were playing a prank on me at first."

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She shook her head and smiled at the baby, she took another sip of her drink before speaking.

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"It started a few weeks after we moved in. Then Johnny came to stay with us. The first time it happened to him, he freaked out. He tore out of the house that next morning, we didn't think he was coming back. He didn't come home until noon and swore he'd never sleep alone here again. I guess it's a good thing you decided to stay awhile."

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That wasn't the last time I heard the Midnight Visitors and the nickname came as they always seemed to venture out around the midnight hour. My sister lived for another year or so in the house but my brother and I only decided to stay another few months. It was just too creepy for us to deal with.
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Once, just to see, we placed the chairs on top of the kitchen table before going to bed. The next morning we were greeted by all the chairs placed on the floor, partially pulled out from the table, looking as if someone had just sat down in them.


*please see Jayne's comment about the origin of this picture above. It is very interesting, thanks again Jayne!

The House on Clinton Avenue

I'll be sharing some stories I've been told through the years by family about the ghosts and houses in our area. I hope you enjoy them!

The House on Clinton Avenue (as told to me by my Mom)

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When I was 15, we moved into a house. Our family was large, 9 of us in all and even with 4 bedrooms each of us still ended up sharing a room and sometimes a bed.

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The first time I saw the house, I thought it was beautiful. An old Victorian, painted blue with white windows. It was 3 stories high if you included the attic. When we pulled into the short driveway to the left of the house, my Dad was sitting on the porch steps. Back then Dad kept his hair in the slicked, clean and combed back look. But that day one hair made its way down to curl on his forehead. He had a strange look on his face and I'll never forget his words to our Mother as we all piled out of the car.

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"There is something wrong with this house Helen."

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Many strange things happened in that house. Anytime we tried to go up to the attic we'd get tripped up on things. The cat refused to come inside and noises came from nowhere. One room in the house, the living room, always stayed very cold, even with the fireplace lit.

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A story that sticks out in my mind among several is the day your Aunt Suzanne beat us all of us home from school and decided to call a friend while she waited. She grabbed the phone in the kitchen (as we disliked that cold and creepy living room) and sat at the table.

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As she spoke to her friend she kept hearing the phone line being picked up. At first she didn't say anything, hoping her friend would tell whoever it was interrupting them to stop. After a few minutes of it Suzanne became annoyed and said something.

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"Tell Jon to cut it out would ya? We'll be off the phone in a minute!" (Jon was her friends only sibling)

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Her friend sounded confused and said in return, "what do you mean Suzanne? What is Jon doing?"

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"He keeps picking up the other phone, don't you hear it?"

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"That's impossible, we only have one phone in our house, Jon couldn't be doing it."

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My sister hung up the phone and rushed outside. She never stayed alone inside that house again.We moved shortly after.