The Visitor

Thanks to my Aunt Raven for this story!

Vito lived with his wife, Madeline, and baby son, Victor, in a courtyard apartment on Barnes Avenue in the Bronx.  Their next door neighbor, George, was a nice, elderly gentleman.  Vito and Madeline weren’t particularly close with George and didn’t know much about him.  All they really knew was that he lived alone and had been a widower for many years.

Vito didn’t have much interest in the paranormal, so he didn’t believe in ghosts.  Then he had a strange experience that he couldn’t explain.  One night in 1964, Vito was awoken by a cold breeze blowing through his bedroom.  Perhaps his wife had forgotten to shut the windows before coming to bed.  He decided to get up to check the house.  That’s when he saw the woman standing on the other side of the room by his son’s crib.  She was wearing a long, white, old-fashioned dress and had her hair tied up in a bun.  The old woman looked as if she belonged to another era and had just stepped out of a black and white photograph.

“What are you doing?  Get away from him!” shouted Vito.

The woman turned to look at Vito.  She lifted her hand and Vito sank back down on the edge of the bed.  She spoke to him in a calm manner.  “No, it’s okay.  I just stopped for a moment, but I’m in the wrong place.”  After saying this, she turned around and disappeared through the wall.

Vito rubbed his face.  He looked over at Madeline, who had slept through the whole event.  He got up to check his son.  Victor was fine.  Like his mother, he had been undisturbed by the stranger’s appearance.  Thinking that he must have been dreaming, Vito went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face.  Then he went back to bed.

The next day, they found out that their neighbor, George, had passed away during the night.  Raven is a few years younger than her brother, so this happened before she was born.  She wonders if the ghostly woman who appeared to her father that night was George’s wife coming to get him.

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send me an email to theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview.

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

For more ghost stories, paranormal phenomena, and updates, follow Tara Theresa Hill on Facebook and on Twitter at @TaraTheresaHill.

 

 

 

Black Socks

Thank you to my mother, Lady Rhea, from Bronx, NY for this story!

Rhea was born and raised on Cruger Avenue in the Bronx.  After she got married, she moved into her first apartment in 1970.  Her parents lived in the same building directly across from her.  They could peer through their windows and tell that she was awake if they saw her lights on.

Rhea used to go downstairs to do her laundry at her mother’s because her parents had a washing machine in their apartment.  She would then carry the laundry back upstairs to hang to dry in her place.  Since her husband, David, had an office job in Manhattan, Rhea was always washing black dress socks.

A few months had passed since Rhea and David had moved into the apartment.  Rhea was doing the weekly laundry.  She had laid out six pairs of black socks on her white bedspread in two neat rows.  She grabbed three pairs to put them in the drawer and then turned back for the remaining three.

Only two pairs of socks were left on the bed.  Rhea paused.  “Where the heck did the third one go?  I know I had two rows of three,” she thought to herself.

After searching in vain for the missing pair, Rhea shrugged, and finished putting away the laundry.  She was home all alone.  She didn’t have a cat or dog that could have stolen the socks while she wasn’t looking and her husband was out on an errand.

Two weeks after this incident, Rhea came home to find the missing pair of black socks sitting on top of her bed.  She always made the bed before she left for work in the morning.  Freaking out, she ran downstairs to her mother’s apartment and told her what had happened.  She thought that perhaps her mother had found a pair of David’s socks in her apartment from the last time that she had done the wash down there and had returned them to her.

“Did you go into my apartment while I was out, Ma?”

“No, Dear.  I only go up there when you’re home.”

“Well, David is still at work and he left before me, so he couldn’t have done it.”

Her mother shrugged, ever the realist.  “Maybe you just forgot that the socks were there.”

“I would have remembered if I had left a pair of black socks in the center of my white bedspread.  No, they definitely weren’t there before I left this morning.  Someone or something put them there.”

Rhea already knew that her apartment was haunted.  Friends who came over would comment on seeing the shadow of an old woman sitting on her couch.  Rhea describes her as being mostly see through, like a photo negative, rather than a solid, full-blown apparition.  Some thought that this could have been the spirit of Rhea’s grandmother, Rose, who had also lived in the same apartment building until she died.

Rhea was right about the sock incident.  This wasn’t the last time that things would vanish on her only to show up months or even in some cases, years later.  But that’s another story!

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

Follow Tara Theresa Hill on Facebook and on Twitter at @TaraTheresaHill for more updates and paranormal phenomena!