This story a part of the True Ghost Stories page on Obiwan's UFO-Free Paranormal Page. Please do not copy or distribute without permission from Obiwan and/or the original author!
Date: Mon, 20 Oct 1997 16:18:22 -0700 (PDT)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
yourname Lisa Marie
email lemiris@ed.co.sanmateo.ca.us
Hi! This is a true story.
Strange phenomenon have followed my brother and I for most of our lives. We stayed at the Hotel Del Coronado when we were little. We saw the ghosts there. I grew up used to it all. So for a time, I hired myself out as a "Ghostbuster", when that was popular. One of the strangest cases I ever worked on, was the one and only time I ever actually experienced Clairvoyance.
I got a call from a lady who was concerned about her son. He was a normally quiet boy. He'd turned violent. Throwing the neighbor boy down the stairs. He spent a lot of time sitting in the closet. Which was what prompted her to call me. She'd heard closets were 'doorways' to the otherside.
I arrived at her house on a sunny afternoon. She was on the second floor in a tiny apartment complex. She greeted me at the door and as I stepped into the house, I was suddenly - somewhere else.
This had never happened to me before. I was a bit disoriented and reached out for the wall on my left. Lucky for me, the entryway I'd actually gone through was similar to the one I was seeing.
Jane said: Are you all right?
I answered: I'm not in your house. I'm in a beach house. I can see the ocean straight infront of me. Out a huge window. No, sliding glass doors. The whole back wall is a sliding glass door. There is a grand piano and a furry white rug. The whole house is white. There is a sunken living room, with white leather couches, there. (I said, pointing to my right)
I walked forward, and noticed a trail of blood, from the piano to the hallway. At this point, Jane, trying to stop me from walking into her wall, touched my shoulder and broke the vision.
The house I had described was her uncle's. He had committed suicide. He cut his wrists and played the piano until he died. He had been gay. And she had been the only family member to accept him as such. He had left her his old upright piano. Of course, it was in storage, in the basement. Just beneath her son's closet.
His ghost wasn't actually in the house. But the anger he felt when he killed himself seemed to be clinging to the old upright. So I did a 'cleansing'. Jane, being a good catholic, thought it very strange. It was a difficult one, but I got it done.
She never had trouble again.