Paranormal Story Archives
May 2001
– Page 16
The
Haunted Painting
by Kmc7105
I was young when I started having paranormal experiences. Age six is when I first remember them. My mom and dad have never believed me. My husband and son do, even though my husband has only had that one recent experience that he can't explain.
My first encounter was with a ghost lady that lived inside a picture in the house I grew up in. It was big oil portrait replica of a woman from the 17th century in a blue satin dress. Sounds weird now, but I had my own small bedroom and this picture hung at the top of the staircase to the upper floor and I always hated that picture. The eyes would follow me and it scared me to death. Many times I would wake up at night and she would be standing next to my bed - just standing there looking down at me and I would scream and she would disappear and then my parents would come running into my room. When I would tell them what happened, as I said they didn't believe me. Childhood fantasies. The child's a little strange.
My dad is a staunch German, no-nonsense type and this was nonsense to him. My mother is the perfect dutiful wife, unquestioning of her husband. My sister no help, as she relished the moments when she could out-shine me and be the golden girl for even a little while. She tormented me with my fears. Really no toleration or help in the household. Meanwhile I grew so fearful of that picture that I would not go upstairs alone. I would bathe in the laundry tub on the first floor just so I would not have to be in the bathroom two floors up from the rest of the family alone.
At age 10 we were moving and I was determined that picture was not coming with us, so I stuck Chiquita Banana stickers over the eyes knowing that when they tried to remove them, that it would ruin the picture and it did and the picture didn't come with us. I had won in a way, a small victory for a small scared child. The only act of defiance from an otherwise perfectly behaved child.
I think the only time they partially believed hat there might be some validity to the strange things I was telling them was when my favorite bachelor uncle died when I was six. I remember waking up one day for school and telling my mother I wasn't going to school because Uncle Anthony was going to die that day (he had visited me that night and told me so). I rolled over and said I was too sick about it to go to school and they let me stay home even though they kept telling me that there was nothing wrong with Uncle Anthony's health and no reason for him to die. He was only in his 60s. He had just been at our house the day before for dinner. He was fine.
Uncle Anthony died later that day from a sudden heart attack without any known history of heart problems. I refused to go to the funeral. I was emotionally drained, sick - I couldn't deal with it and felt maybe I could have done something to save him. Considering everything they got a neighbor to watch me and I stayed in bed the entire week of the funeral. When he was buried, I got up and just went on with my life as if nothing happened. A peace came over me. I felt Uncle Anthony was now ok and I could go with the things in my childhood life. They really started thinking I was a weird child after that. I would also see these white balls floating around all the time in that house. I thought everyone saw them until I was much older. I also had my imaginary friend. Can’t really remember the details but I was very consumed with the friend back then and they left me alone about it even playing along, as this is a common childhood experience. I didn't realize I was operating on some different plane at times that my family couldn't follow me to until later in life, that I saw and felt things most others didn’t. It just all just seemed so second nature. I wasn’t too afraid of it yet. I didn’t know what to be afraid of or how to stop it if I wanted and I still don’t.
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