The Face in the Mirror

Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com by CreatiFrankenstein

Shaving one's neck on a good day can be precarious, but it's especially trying when you have an unsteady hand! 

    In our duplex on West Street in Follansbee, West Virginia, my dad began his morning routine. Many men will be familiar with the daily task of lathering up and dragging a sharp blade over your face and throat. 

    As my dad prepared to shave, the mirror was foggy from his shower, and he drew the razor down, rinsed, and repeated. Taking his gaze off the mirror for a second to rinse the blade, he tapped the razor a few times before looking at his reflection again. 

    Over his shoulder the faint dark outline of a face took shape. He dropped his hand from his throat and jerked his head to see what was behind him in the bathroom. 

    Nothing!

    Returning his focus to the mirror, he squinted, hoping to see what it was or if it was still there. The face was gone. Yet, the feeling of being watched unnerved him and he finished quickly and left the bathroom. 

    If this had been the only instance of odd occurrences or strange feelings any logical person could justify it as pareidolia (seeing something when there is nothing there) or an overactive imagination. But repetition of events, especially in one place and over a span of time, has a way of erasing the possibility of coincidence or seeing things that aren't there. When other people see these things, too, or hear these things, too, then it's no longer your imagination. Something else is going on. Now, what that may be is open for interpretation but my parents had their own opinions after months and a year of these things invading their every day lives. 

    Thank you for being here and reading! Let me know what you think in the comments. If you dropped by, let me know you were here. 

Next time...we'll talk about a baby blanket and a music box. 

 The Voice with No Face

Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com by Amber_Avalona

After touching a lock of hair belonging to the widower's wife next door, it didn't take long before my dad noticed unsettling instances pop up in and around the duplex on West Street.   

    One evening, my father was called to work the yard at Mingo Junction, the local railroad near Follansbee, WV. My maternal grandfather had worked there for decades but my dad was a fairly new hire. 

    He packed up and headed to work, climbing behind the wheel of our family car. He rounded the corner and heard his name called. While still driving, he opened the driver's side door and listened thinking maybe something beneath the car was dragging. But he heard nothing but tires on pavement.  

    Satisfied that the car was okay he drove off to work. 

    This was one of many more experiences our family and friends had in the House on West Street.

Heard any disembodied voices? Leave a comment and let me know you stopped by! if you're interested in videos about the subject, check out my Rumble Channel: 
GamingLass2 on Rumble

 The Devil in the Corner

Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com by KELLEPICS

My family lived in a duplex on West Street in Follansbee, West Virginia in the late 60's as I explained in my last post. I was only about two or three at the time, but my memories of the room I stayed in there are burned into my brain.

    When I, as an adult, told my parents that I remembered that room and was terrified of it, they told me the stories of things that occurred. One particular event involved yours truly. 

    One night, my dad came home to find me in bed with my mom. She explained that I could go back to my room as I was asleep. After putting me back in bed, she told my father that something was wrong. When he asked what she meant, she explained she'd heard me crying and came into the room to find me, still in a crib at that time, standing and pointing to the corner of the room. 

    When she asked what was wrong, I shouted between sniffles, "The Debil! Debil," which in toddler speak translates to devil. I'm sure she tried to reassure me that nothing was in the room, but I don't think I believed her as this persistent feeling of fear has been forever attached to that room and house. 

Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com by Go4GenTur

    Now, we were not and have never been an especially religious family. We might have been accused of being "ChrEasters" -- those families that show up in church only on Christmas and Easter. So, the Devil was not a hot topic in our household nor was religion an every day discussion. Plus, I was two!

    Since my parents were also experiencing their own unsettling happenings, this screeching devil episode coming from their toddler did nothing to comfort them or assuage their fears that something might be amiss with this house. 

    No one was certain what the catalyst might have been as there were small instances in another rental my parents were in that was down the street from this duplex. However, the strange experiences we had in the duplex far exceed anything prior to this location. 

So, what do you think? Have any similar stories in your family? Any children shouting devil? I'll be making a video of this event as well which can be found on my Rumble channel: GamingLass2 on Rumble

Leave a comment below to let me know you were here!

The House on West Street

Ghosts or Something Else? 

Photo Credit: Pixabay.com by Tama66

From about two years of age, until I was three or four, my family lived in a duplex on West Street. It was most convenient being a few doors down from my maternal grandparents, providing my mother and father with occasional built in babysitters. 

    My father was a railroader and many times he'd be gone for days leaving my mother and I —until my brothers were born — alone in the house.  The duplex was built sometime around the mid 1920's and was full of character. I recall the black and white squares of the floor in the bathroom and a large wooden banister leading to the second floor.  I suppose life was quite normal in that house until Delmar Jenkins, an elderly widower, invited my father upstairs to his attic. 

    Delmar had typical items stored up there from photo albums to unused furniture, I presume. However, my father relayed how unwelcome he felt the instant Delmar opened a large trunk, his hair stood on end. The older man dug around inside and brought out a cigar box. When he opened the box, a lock of auburn hair was inside. Chills ran over my dad's skin, and he dismissed it as he might be cold, even though most attics are the warmest part of homes. He lifted the lock of hair from the box and said, "She had such beautiful hair.  It was so soft. Here, touch it!" 

[Yes, he really  did say that.]

    The lonely, old man held it out and said to my dad, "Go on, feel how soft it is." Of course my father did not want to touch some dead woman's hair, but Delmar was insistent in a sad way, and so my father touched the lock of hair. A renewed sense of being uninvited washed over him along with more chills, and he made some polite excuse to leave. 

    Sometime after this strange event my father, especially, found unusual things happening, which I'll go into in another post, but for now, I want to focus on my actual memories. Remember, I was only two or three at the time we lived here, but it is the strong memory of my room and the feelings that are connected to it that I find intriguing. 

    My bed faced the door to my room and a cute lamp/nightlight sat on a bedside table to my right. At night, my parents could switch the base of the lamp on to illuminate cut out stars. I remember it being gold. And it was the focal point at nighttime. 

    After probably singing to me and kissing me goodnight, my parents would switch the nightlight part on and pull the bedroom door partially closed, leaving a dark space in the corner behind the door.  

    I realize, as I have two grown children of my own now, that kids are afraid of the dark and see things in the dark. And if I had been the only one in the house to be afraid, I'd pass it off as such. Yet, I am not the only one to have trouble sleeping in that room nor was I the only one to experience unexplainable events. 

    As I lay there at night, I'd sense something watching me from the dark corner. My fear level would rise and eventually I heard a voice in my head say, "Keep looking at the light. Just keep looking at the light." So, I did! And each night that I recall, I stared at the base of that nightlight for if my gaze wandered to the dark space behind the door, instant trepidation spread through my little body. 

    Not long ago I wanted to attempt hypnosis to retrieve the memories from that room. I wanted to see if I could discern what, if anything, lurked in the corner, but unfortunately, I was not able to be hypnotized and gave up.

    Still, I wonder, was there anything there? It felt like something was there, watching me. In the next blog post, I'll tell of another event that leads me to believe I saw something unexplainable but my limited vocabulary prevented me from elaborating.

    Below, I've attached a video of this same story because I wanted to add images. What do you think it could've been? Do you brush it off as a child's overactive imagination? Do you remember any strange occurrences from your childhood or maybe adulthood that you just couldn't explain?

Video House on West Street