Since this is October, I figured chatting about all things paranormal (or mildly related to it) seemed appropriate for my blog days. Despite my love of this time of year, a seriously freaky thing happened to me a few years ago, not too long after I’d gotten married. At the time my hubby and I were living in Swansboro, NC, just north of Camp Lejeune. Brief factoid: Ever read Nicholas Sparks’ The Guardian? I haven’t but apparently the story takes place there. It’s an adorable little coastal town rich in history. Anywho, somehow we’d managed to get a house right downtown within walking distance of everything. They were always having cool festivals so it was perfect. I know the word ‘old’ is relative but the house we lived in was fairly old (maybe late 1800s/early 1900s) and while I loved it, there was always an odd vibe to it.The house was a small two bedroom place with all (real) hardwood floors. The kitchen and living room were separated by swinging doors and the living room and bedrooms were separated by an arched entryway. In that arched area, I’d hung a cute, ornate antique-looking lantern which was purely for decoration. A tiny tea light came with it so I left it inside it. One night the man and I were bundled up on the couch watching a movie (the heat in the place sucked) and the tea light flared to life. Holy crap, it scared the hell out of me. You ever get that really sick feeling and your whole body turns cold and hot? I still shiver thinking about it.
I thought for sure the man was playing a trick on me (even though he was sitting next to me and we lived alone). I punched him in the arm and started to yell at him until I saw the horrified expression on his face. My husband—a former Marine (sniper) who earned his nickname Tracer from running directly into enemy fire in the dark of night and the only thing his peeps could see were tracers flying all around him—looked ready to run out the front door and never come back. Not that I blame him. I think if our fireplace (which barely worked) had flared to life, we’d have both probably hightailed it, but in the end we just blew out the candle and it never mysteriously lit after that. Looking back maybe it’s not soooo scary, but at the time I found it hard to sleep the next couple days. Later we found out that the lady who had owned the house had died there so who knows what that little fire-flare was all about.
Anyone have any ghost stories or just creepy paranormal stories? Please share!
