Ghost Stories

(Levi, that title is a warning to you specifically, so if nightmares ensue, just know that "I warned you!")

My BFF Christine recently loaned me a book of hers called The Mammoth Book of True Hauntings, because she knows of my interest in the paranormal. While its been slow-going getting into the book (due to the lack of photos and the small font size), there have been a few things that have caught my interest and inspired remembrances of my own experiences with the supernatural.

I'm sure more people have had these sort of experiences than let on, maybe for fear of mockery or embarrassment. Or they are trying to convince themselves it didn't really happen, that they were mistaken or it has a rational explanation. And in some cases, that's probably true. 'Jack-o-lanterns' or 'will-o-the-wisps' (English and European folklore, respectively), while traditionally thought to describe the ghostly lights which hover over marshland or old graveyards and try to lure the unsuspecting to their death, are now more likely supposed to be the spontaneous igniting of gases escaping from rotting plant matter. (See, I did learn something from that book!)

I think everyone has had that 'ghost walking over my grave' moment where you experience a full-body shiver from out of nowhere. Did you know there is a European "ghost story" for that? According to Christine's book:

"Also known as 'The Graveyard Watcher', the Ankou is found all over Europe and is the spirit that guards cemeteries. The spirit originated from an ancient tradition that whenever a new cemetery was opened a selected victim would be buried alive to provide the place with a 'ghostly guardian'. In Great Britain, the Ankou is said to be the origin of the phrase used by people whenever they are struck by an involuntary shiver, 'Someone is walking over my grave'."

My own ghostly experiences have left me feeling at times puzzled, fearful, wondrous and confused. I can't explain why I experienced them, what they meant, if they were a sign of some sort, or even if I should have told someone about them at the time. Its very frustrating to not KNOW.

Both occurred in my early teens and I'm not sure if that is because that was the time I was most receptive to them, being in that nebulous child-woman stage. The first experience scared the living crap out of me, for weeks afterwards (until I made myself 'forget' simply to preserve my sanity); while the second inspired feelings of peace, happiness and sheer wonder.

I'm sure you're all wanting to hear about the "bad" experience first, right? Haha.

I was about 13-14, living on the acreage with my family (duh Beau). It was early morning, Mom had left for work and us kids were husslin' our butts to make it to the bus stop in time. If we had our it-shay together on a particular morning, we'd wait at the end of our driveway (if not, at the mailbox an hour later). Anyway, this morning we were on time and I remember that the boys had already left the house and I was locking up. The spring morning was damp and there was a low-lying mist hovering over the yard. As I took the short-cut through our yard to get to the end of the driveway, like I'd done a hundred times before, I had to pass by the maple tree. It seemed to have more mist surrounding it than the rest of the yard. This in itself "raised my hackles" -- the hair on the nape of my neck literally stood on end -- and as I got closer to the tree I started walking slower and slower. It wasn't even a conscious decision to slow down, it was more like my body was telling me "danger! be wary!" I came to a complete stop about ten feet from the tree. Through the white mist I could make out a dark shape. It was about hip-height and looked like the vague shape of a dark sitting dog. I exhaled a huge breath of relief. It was just one of the rotties! Yelled to Trapper, "Hey! You were supposed to put the dogs in the kennel!" He yelled back, "I did! Check for yourself!" Thinking he was lying and just being lazy to make me do it myself (like little brothers do), I stormed to the kennel to check. Sure enough, both dogs were in there! Then it hit me, "What the hell was that thing I saw?" Now, this is the point in the scary movie where you're screaming at the heroine on screen, "Stupid! Don't go back and check! What the hell is wrong with you?!" but of course, like the dumbass heroine I had to see it again with my own eyes, just to prove myself wrong. Crept back to the yard, hopeful yet full of dread, and yes, there it was, still there. Still seeming to look right at me, even though I couldn't discern any actual features. Looking back now, I'm truly amazed at what possessed me next. I braced myself and walked five feet from the tree, the dark outline of its shape becoming more clearer and yet still weirdly out-of-focus. Telling myself it was a stray dog that had made its way into our yard, I tried to scare it off, "Go away! Get! Go home!" Immediately a feeling like a rush of menace came at me and before my brain kicked in, my feet were moving; running in the opposite direction as fast as I could. I took the long way to the bus stop, sprinting up the entire driveway, panting hysterically and trying to get control of myself before my brothers noticed. I didn't want them to make fun of me, but more importantly I didn't want to scare the bejeebus out of them. I never saw the "ghost dog" again and I never told anyone either, but let me just say that it was about two weeks before I took the short-cut again. (I did get a lot of ribbing on that from my brothers, but I just told them I wanted the extra exercise -- yeah right!! as anyone who knows me well is thinking, haha).

Now, maybe it was a stray dog and maybe my yelling at it did make it angry. Maybe I over-reacted (although if it was a real dog, it wasn't one of ours, and so I did do the right thing by getting away from it). I can't know for certain though, and it both drives me crazy and terrifies me. In my reading of Chris's book, I came across this possible explanation:

GALLEYTROT (English)
This is an animal ghost that resembles a large dog and has been mostly seen in East Anglia where it is said to move around country lanes "like an evil whisper" [our driveway could be considered a 'country lane', right?]. The name is believed to be a corruption of the French gardez le tresor or "guardian of the treasure" and the majority have been seen close to old burial grounds. [Did we have a buried treasure somewhere in the yard? Under the tree? The house? Was the acreage land a possible burial site?] Some Galleytrots are stated to be black in color [yes] with flaming eyes [couldn't see actual eyes, but I definitely felt them staring at me], while one of the most famous that is said to haunt the wilds of Suffolk resembles an enormous hound with the head of a monk.

My other, less traumatizing and bladder-weakening experience occurred later, in the summer. It was a gorgeous day and I was mowing the lawn with the push-mower. Its kind of coincidental that it was in about the same area of yard as the ghost dog. As I took a little breather, letting the mower power down, I stood there, eyes closed, and let the breeze cool me, just enjoying the sun and scent of fresh cut lawn. I remember that the breeze suddenly turned colder, noticeable so. I blinked and looked around (why, I don't know, its not like you can see the wind, lol). My nostrils flared as a new scent overpowered the cut-grass. I kept sniffing, trying to place it, wondering why it smelled so... familiar. It was like men's cologne, and yet my mind discounted that, because where would a smell like that come from? I certainly wasn't wearing any. No one else was around. After a moment, the smell faded and I shook my head and carried on. It wasn't until later that night that we heard from relatives that our Grandpa Brian had passed away. Brian Bell, whose family has owned that land for generations (in fact, in that rural community it is still known as "the Bell house"), and who grew up as a boy there with his parents and many siblings. I realized later that that familiar smell of men's cologne was in fact the exact same cologne he always wore. It comforted me to think that on that tragic day, Grandpa Brian's spirit visited what must have been a special place to him.

It makes a person wonder if maybe the two experiences aren't somehow related. If the Galleytrot was indeed guarding a buried treasure, could Brian's spiritual appearance be connected to that? Think how common it is for a boy to bury something special to him with the intention of digging it up later. Could Grandpa's boyhood 'treasure' actually be something of monetary value? Or maybe just the fact that it was a treasure to him made it of value and importance? What object could be deemed so worthy of protection that it would be appointed a Galleytrot?

The questions are never-ending. Mind-boggling. Scary and yet so... interesting. I guess I'll never know why I was chosen to be in the right-place-at-the-right-time to experience these.