August 2004 Page 30
in Citrus Heights
We use to live in Citrus Heights, California, right outside side of Sacramento. We lived in a two-story home that was beautiful and, according to the neighbors, had not been lived in in quite awhile, and when it was, no one lived there long. For the area, the rent was really cheap.
We truly believe that house was haunted. In the living room, the ceiling was one that went up all the way up. The bedrooms were all upstairs. In both my sons' bedrooms, the temperature was always about 20 degrees cooler than the rest of the house. Our dog would go into my youngest son's room and sit at his closet door and just bark. We would try and push in into the closet and he would not go. He would also sit downstairs in a corner that went up to the closet and he would bark and growl at nothing.
My son would wake every morning with his door open when he had closed it. One morning on my way downstairs I smelled the most wonderful fragrance coming from his room. When I walked in his room, it was very strong. When my son woke up and came downstairs, he asked me why I sprayed perfume in his room. I was wondering the same thing about him. Neither one of us had sprayed anything.
We had two big chandeliers that for no reason would start swinging, and I don't mean just a little bit. We would joke about our ghost swinging. Our TV was in the den, and when we would turn it off to go somewhere, it would turn back on when we would get to the front door. This would go on about two or three times, and when we would say, "We've got to go. Quit playing with the TV," then it would stay off.
One afternoon, we were eating supper and where our table sits we could see up the stairs. Our youngest son had a friend visiting from Texas and we were telling him about our ghost. His friend kept telling us we were joking and just trying to scare him; we tried to assure him we were not. After they finished eating, my son and his friend went up to his room and in a few minutes both of them hit the top step and I think jumped the rest of the way down. Their eyes were the size of baseballs. His friend said, "You're right. There's a ghost in here." They had the radio tuned to a country station and his friend said, "This music sucks." All of a sudden, the radio jumped clear across the the dial to a hard rock station. We played with the ghost for about an hour doing that.
We were in the process of moving to another house at that time and our daughter kept telling us about a tape that was in her tape player. Finally, after we had gotten in our other house she asked me again to come listen to the tape. It sounded like Indian drums beating with an Indian singing what sounded like, "I just want a little" and we could not make out the rest of the words. We tried it on our big stereo, the car and the boys' stereos and it would only play on my daughter's little cheap cassette.
you have a paranormal tale to tell?