My Victorian. My True Ghost Stories. SEGMENT #1. Chance to Win.

The countdown is on. It's officially three days until All Hallows’ Eve. As many know Halloween is a holiday with ancient roots. A little over 2,000 years ago, the Celts celebrated the end of the year on October 31st. The first day of their new year, November 1st, was called Samhain. Hence Halloween also being known as Samhain’s Eve.

Long story short, the end of the year signaled the end of summer which in turn, meant the end of harvest and the start of a long, rough winter that typically meant death for animals and people alike. Because of this, this time of year signified death to the Pagan Celtics. They believed that the night before the New Year the veil between the living and dead opened allowing spirits, good and bad, to roam amongst the living.

My opinion? While a huge fan of Halloween and the concept of spirits roaming freely, I don’t think it happens merely once a year. I think it happens every day and night of the year. In fact, I know it does. How so? Well, I live in a very haunted house.

Today is the first of three in which I’ll share my own personal ghost stories. Each and every one has taken place in the house I’ve lived in for the past ten years. A house I remember driving by when a small child. Let me tell you about this house…

Construction began in 1901. In 1903 my husband’s great grandfather walked his wife into her brand new Victorian home for the first time (For the sake of the family's privacy, I will not be providing names). Yes, this house has been in my husband’s family since its birth over a century ago.

I still try to envision what it must have been like for her to walk into this house for the first time. How she must have been in awe by its grandeur and charm. By its oval handmade windows and sliding pocket doorways. The charm she must’ve felt as she strolled through the house, her long dress swooshing over the gleaming hardwood floors, finding all the wonderful little nooks and crannies her husband had built into the rooms.

I’ll never forget the first time I walked into this house 100 years later. The way I felt when I first entered the foyer and looked at the arched doorways and elegant balustrade lining the stairs. I was instantly, irrevocably in love. The feeling was almost…surreal. Even as a writer, I can’t convey how powerful that first moment was. Perhaps I was always meant to walk through the front door. Perhaps I was always meant to live here. Its ten years later and I love this house as much as I did that very first moment.

As well as all its ghosts.

Oh yes, this is one very, very haunted house. In fact, my husband went to the store the other day. The cashier saw his home address and her eyes widened. She promptly asked, “Do you live here?” He said yes. (This house was rented out for many years in between) She responded, “I used to live there when I was a kid. Wow, that house is so haunted! I tell all my friends when we drive by about how haunted it is!”

How right she is.

Over the next several days I’ve decided to share (for the first time publicly) some of the paranormal experiences me, my family and tenants have experienced over the years. I had hoped to provide some EVP’s (Electronic Voice Phenomena) for you but regrettably I haven’t had a chance to buy the equipment yet. I can tell you without doubt that this house is haunted by several spirits. One is a child (Around four I’d say) and a man. (Fairly certain it’s the man who had this house built)

My sister recently asked me if I based the house in my upcoming release, The Victorian Lure on this house. The answer is no. The activity in this house has never been sinister (save one tiny thing), unlike that of my novel.

Ready for a short ghost story? As I’ve already rattled on some, I’ll keep today’s fairly brief.

By far, one of my favorite events took place a week before Christmas of 2003. For some reason, this house becomes super active during late November straight through December. My thought on that? My husband’s great-grandfather liked the holidays and he makes a point of visiting his house.

Anyways, this particular afternoon I had my sister and Dad visiting. The three of us were sitting in the living room chatting when the radio turned on. I ignored it thinking it must’ve been set on a timer or something. We all kept talking. A few minutes later it turned up. Loud enough that we all stopped conversing and looked at the radio. The Christmas song, “Do You Hear What I Hear,” was playing. So I got up, walked over and turned it down. (Turn nob volume control folks. Pretty big turn dial on this radio.) I had just sat down when the volume turned up again.

By this point, the radio had everyone’s undivided attention. I got up and turned it down again and sat. We all watched the radio for several seconds. Sure as heck it turned up again. The spooky part? We watched the nob turn on its own this time! I was getting up to turn off the radio when my Dad shook his head, grinned and said, “Don’t. Obviously somebody likes this song.”

So we listened to the rest of the song. After that I was able to successfully turn it back down. The cool part? As I later discovered, ‘Do You Hear What I Hear’ was my husband’s grandfather’s favorite Christmas song. He’d lived in this house until he was old enough to move out. I ended up writing my free read around that song because of this very event.

As a debunker first and foremost, I thought… maybe it was the Earth’s magnetic field doing funky things. Could have been. But how very coincidental, eh?

Expect several more stories over the next few days. It’s so nice to finally share them!

Leave a comment for a chance to win three Ebooks from my backlist, including my upcoming ghost hunter novel, The Victorian Lure. Also, stay tuned for an actual picture of my haunted house by Halloween!

Wishing you a very spooky weekend.

Sky