Real Life Paranormal Experiences Part 1

Betrayal

Told by AmericanBruja

August, 2011

The House on Lizard Hill was falling apart. Years of neglect by previous owners left it in such sorry shape that a neighbor suggested the culdesac would be better if someone took a match to it.

The renovations needed far surpassed our middle class incomes, leaving much of the work to my husband.

"This place is going to kill me," he grumbled as rain seeped through one of the many openings in the roof.

Sighing, I offered an empathetic response, but secretly worried. Maybe we'd taken on more than we could handle when we bought the rambling 1939 ranch house.

To help pay our new mistress's upkeep, we rented out the larger of the two detached guest units to a nice young man. He'd recently relocated from the Midwest, and planned to bring his wife out as soon as he'd saved enough to upgrade his living conditions.

Martin (last name withheld for privacy) never toured our house. He worked long hours at LAX.

I was happy we'd found a nice tenant, and even happier he kept busy, because I didn't want him noticing any of the strange things that started happening at the house. We're not talking about anything that would send any levelheaded person running for the door, but...it was getting harder for me to wave off guests claiming they'd seen the shadowy figure of a man in the hallway, or others overwhelmed by the scent of chocolate chip cookies.

My adult nephew refused to enter our living room. On the hottest days in the San Inferno Valley, it alone was icy cold.
My teenagers reported hearing sounds of someone doing dishes. Upon inspection, no one was present and nothing was disturbed.

It would have been nice if someone actually did the dishes. Perhaps the ghost sympathized with us as the parents of teenagers. I guess it's the thought that counts.

I offered rational explanations to frightened family members. Each fell flat as the number of accounts mounted.

"If ghosts are real, why would anyone be afraid of one?" I argued. "There's no means of physical locomotion. No body, no way to hurt you."

My logic was unimpeachable, yet it failed to comfort.

It didn't help that we had little information about the house's previous inhabitants. We knew about the original owners and that they'd had two children, a boy and a girl. We'd confirmed the fantastic story about John Lennon and May Pang at a party in the '70's, with a great photo of them taken in the master bedroom (and a humorous anecdote by May Pang herself).

If ghosts were real, who was hanging around and bothering our guests? It certainly wasn't Lennon.

By February of 2012, our tenant Martin saved enough to move into a house of his own. His wife sold their Midwest house, and it was a buyer's market after the bubble burst.

His wife flew in late at night. The next morning, I greeted her.

Clutching my arm, she insisted, "I need to speak with you!"

"Okay." I answered slowly, wondering what was so important, when we'd just met.

Her words poured out in a rush, "This woman, she wouldn't stop talking last night! I couldn't get any sleep!"