Friday, August 26, 2011

The Lamashtu

By Lillian K. Staats

I continue to think of ghost stories, but these others I have are not so comforting, in fact one was so frightening it changed my life.

The year that I turned 19, 1979, I had a job cleaning the largest private dwelling in Alaska. It was still under construction, but it was monumental, with vast outward jutting windows that looked onto Rocky Lake near Big Lake.

My tasks were simple and required little thought, just labor; washing clothes and bedding by hand,(there were no washers), cleaning up after construction crews, cooking, that sort of thing. My boss was Dana Sutherland, and, like a few men at that time, he wanted me in his bed. I was absolutely not going to do that, for anything, and to this day, I'd never had sex to get or keep a job. Like my neighbor Gene says... so you just give it away. Sigh, (not to you, you Bastard, I thought).

 I divulge. At any rate, this boss was snowed in at Anchorage, and couldn't get back. I loved it! The snow fell record feet that winter, and I felt safe in my snow cocoon, along with the five Doberman Pinchers, one being my puppy Inca.

This was a working holiday; I washed all the bedclothes, swept, mopped, etc. I stayed up quite late, reading in Dana's palatial bed, (my bed was a cot), and I'd change the sheets again.

Now, as a young woman, I had no form of religion, and was open to almost anything- eastern religion, yoga, herbology, Tarot cards, Urantia, what have you. But, for some reason, upon entering that house, I would not touch anything to do with the occult, and there were rows and rows of occult books. Then I found the black candles in a box by Dana's bed. I was not afraid, I was wary, and did not touch them.

 I found it hard to go to sleep that night, so it was four in the morning when I finally dozed off, or more correctly, closed my eyes, and could not move, though I could see the room perfectly, albeit grainy, like a bad film.

 To my left hand side was a double pane Pella window, and a creature, like smoke and....clear flesh, assumed a position in front of me, and (sifted?) down into form. It was a leopards body, a lion's head, wildly streaming hair, and bared breasts. 

I said,"I love God, God loves me, In the name of Jesus Christ begone from this house". I knew inately that it was a she, she was ancient, Egyptian, and a she-devil. 

Another thing- I had NEVER called on Christ in my life, but there were those words. She reluctantly gathered herself together, and departed exactly how she arrived. Why spirits would need windows is beyond me..

 Well, young people are resiliant, and altho my sweat made a sillouette on the sheets, I laughed everything off best I could and went to sleep.

 The next morning I fed the dogs, had tea, thought nothing of it. Just to get it out of the way, I was a health nut, and rarely drank, and rarely did any naughty thing to my body, and this was the case at the time, so all this happened stone cold sober as it were.

 Any way, as the day progressed, I'd find myself walking toward the occult bookshelf. I'd, as if in a daze, reach out my hand, pull a book out, and open it. Then I'd feel, this isn't the right book. Well, that's just very odd, and it happened twice. 

On the third try, I knelt down and my left hand went out to the shelf, second from the bottom, I pulled a book out, and opened it up the the very page. On the left hand side, second from the bottom it said this:

Lamishtu or Lamashtu;  an ancient she-devil, fierce and bloodthirsty, Egyptian. A leopard's body, a lion's head, wildly streaming hair, and bared breasts.

 Suffice to say, I stuffed garlic in my pockets, (forgetting that was for vampires), clutched a Bible, and ran to my best friends, Nick and Sheila, two and a half miles away, in the dark. Haha! 


The Lights Turned On By Themselves ....

By Lillian K. Staats

I have a short ghost story that happened last winter;

Most people that know me consider me a fool, but a really kind and giving fool. I'll have to accept that as a good thing, and I think I'm at peace with that. After all, where would we be without the fools of the world?
 However, for a fool, I'm quite logical, and prefer logical explanations for why things happen- but sometimes there isn't one!

I've lived in the same house for over twenty years, a little hobbit house, brightly colored, and to me, the sweetest place on earth. It's surrounded by hundreds of acres of woods, and fields, and I feel very blessed.

 At any rate, as I grow older, it's harder to sleep thru the night, and sometimes I take refuge in the bible, or a good book. This particular night, well, three something in the morning, I was doing just that. Well, I'd set the bible down, I was getting sleepy, and I was just throwing out a few last errant prayers for friends and folks, when the light in my bedroom, and both lights in my livingroom went on.

There was only one problem with this. As I went to check the light switches, I kew what I'd find. Yes. They were all OFF. The lights were on, but all the switches were OFF! The lights stayed that way for several minutes, not seconds, as I bemused, and sleepy, made the rounds of the light switches, murmuring all the while. Oddly, I heard a low humming overheard as they had gone on. Not being an overly hysterical person, I decided to sleep on it.

 The next morning I called MEA, our power company, here in Wasilla, Alaska. I asked the fella, say, did we have a power surge around three A.M.? "No Maam." Ah. 

Well, I told him what happened, and he said it might be I have old style mercury light switches, they might have all disfunctioned at the same time.

I've been living here a long time. Those lights have NEVER "disfunctioned" before or since!


Thursday, August 25, 2011

The Ghost At The Savoy

By Lillian K. Staats

I just read the story of the haunted black closet, and it reminded me of my 1985 trip to England. I was lucky enough to afford a few nights at the Savoy in London, They showed me into a compact but lovely room, and a bathroom with marble steps up to it. I was charmed, but very tired from the flight. I decided to take a nap.

I woke out of a sound sleep to water going full bore. I went into the bathroom where the shower was going: a large stainless steel plate with about fifty holes served as the nozzle. It was hot water. I was not afraid... more bemused. I turned the water off, and went back to the bed to finish my nap.

About forty minutes later, the same thing happened. Again, I shut it off.

The next day, the window opened, by itself. Now, this is important, because the window was closed with a rail of steel with holes that corresponded to nubs on the ledge. Also, the window was locked.

I never felt afraid... I had the sense that it was a male ghost from the 1800’s and that he was a bit of a playboy. I have a few more ghost stories, but I love this one most. I was pretty and young then, and anything could happen, and usually did!

*  Lily

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


As told by Prue

Kenny and I hadn’t been in town that long when I met Sandy at the local Daycare centre.  She lived a couple of doors down from us, and although we hadn’t been formerly introduced, I recognised her having seen her in her front yard when were unpacking two weeks ago when we were finally moving into our very first home as husband and wife.

Sandy didn’t bother with any formalities.  “So, you’re the new people on the block yeah?”  Sandy asked/stated.  “Have you met the ghost yet or what?” she continued.

I stood there perplexed, not knowing what she was talking about.  Sandy looked at me in exasperation and repeated her question/statement.  “The ghost.  Have you met him yet or what?  I shook my head ‘no’, not really sure what she was talking about.  

I thought no more of it as I made my way home where I found Kenny on the couch in front of the TV.  “Hey, I thought you came home earlier,” Kenny said as I came down the hallway.  I stopped and looked at him, mid-way to the kitchen.  “I thought you came home earlier because I heard some noise coming from the bathroom, but when I went to check you weren’t there." I just looked at him a little strangely and went on to unpack my groceries.

A few days later I was home cooking Kenny’s favourite meal, when I was sure I heard the shower running.  I stood still on the spot listening, but the noise of running water had stopped as abruptly as it has started.  I figured I’d just imagined it, so went back to peeling the potatoes, but a couple of minutes later I heard it start up again.  I went to check and found the hot water tap turned on full bore in the shower, but no one was there and I was the only one home.  I started to feel freaked-out and really didn’t want to be there by myself.  I remembered what our neighbour Sandy had said about the ‘ghost’ and shuddered at the thought.   I didn’t even want to consider it.

I had to come to grips with it though because over the next 3 years that we lived in that house lots of little things happen.  I say little things because it was never really scary or earth-shattering stuff that went on, but enough to know that the ‘ghost’ was definitely around.

* The shower turned itself on and off quite often.

* I’d come home from work to find the contents of the pantry in the fridge.

* Sometimes I would find the loungeroom windows open, knowing I’d closed and locked them before going to work.

* Lights coming on at night and turning themselves off again.

* Stereo and TV would turn on and off.

* Clothes from the laundry would be found in the kitchen and kitchen utensils in the bathroom.

* Photos frames being moving around on the mantel every few days.

* Keys, mobile phone, ipod and things like that would go missing and turn up in stupid/unlikely places.

* Strange cooking/food smells but no source.

These are just a few of the things that took place while we lived in the house.  After a while I wasn’t really scared, but annoyed more than anything.  It never bothered Kenny, but I never felt comfortable in the house and was glad to finally move out.  

*As told by Prue

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Angel in the Garden

As told by Michael

I never really believed in angels and stuff like that, although my Grandma Ada used to talk on and on about them when I was kid.  She used to tell me they were all around us, but I could never see them.  She’d often mention one by name in particular  -  Athena she’d called her.  I used to just play along with Grandma when she’d point out the fairies and sylphs in her special spot in the garden  -  her reading rotunda.  Grandma Ada would spend hours reading her books and magazines under the shade of the rose covered rotunda.

Years passed and I married my wife Sarah and had two kids.  I didn’t see Grandma Ada for a couple of years while I worked overseas, but I heard from Mum over the years that she was doing fine.  

My daughters were 5 and 9 when I took Sarah and the girls to visit with Grandma Ada.  She wasn’t in the house, or at least didn’t answer our knock, so I made my way to the rotunda in the garden with the girls in tow.

Not quite believing my eyes, I saw Grandma Ada lying on her back on the ground with a lady with long flowing hair leaning in close to her as though whispering in her ear.  I hastened my footsteps, worried that Grandma Ada was ill, and wondering who this strange lady was leaning over her so closely.  

Quickening my pace, staring straight at the rotunda and the two women within, the lady with the flowing hair began to disappear to nothing.  She just faded away before 

my eyes as though she was never there to begin with.  I was too busy to fuss about it at the time so put my curiosities aside and attended to Grandma.

I checked her pulse and breathing and noted her deathly palour.   Sarah was already on her mobile, calling for an ambulance.

Once at the hospital Grandma Ada was stabilized and had pulled through almost unscathed.  She’s suffered a heart attack while reading in her garden, but she stated that she was a ‘tough old bird’ and it would take more than a little heart attack to knock her off.

Turning to leave a while later, Grandma Ada called me to her bedside and motioned for me to lean in close.  “Did you see her?” she asked.  “Who?” I replied, having totally forgotten about the strange lady in the rotunda.  “My angel ... Athena. Did you see her? Grandma asked again.  I nodded and smiled.  Yes.  I’d finally seen Athena, Grandma Ada’s angel.


Monday, August 1, 2011

The Fitzgerald House

As told by Alyshia

When I was 11, my dad told us we were moving.  When I found out which house Dad had bought I was totally mortified!  It was the old ‘Fitzgerald’ house and it was where a man (Mr Fitzgerald) had committed suicide about 6 years earlier.  I didn’t remember it myself (being so young at the time) but we lived in a small town so it was local knowledge.  No way did I want to live in that house.  And I knew my friends wouldn’t want to have sleep-overs with me anymore.  I pleaded with Mum and Dad not to move there, but too late  -  the deal was done.  And I dreaded it.

I felt uncomfortable in that house from the moment we moved in, and strangely enough I started enjoying school more.  Anything was better than being in that house.  I’d even taken up after-school sports because I didn’t want to be home alone before Mum and Dad got home from work  -  and I hated sports!

On the fifth night after we’d moved in I woke up to sounds coming from the kitchen.  I didn’t think much of it at the time and just figured it was either Mum or Dad getting themselves a snack or drink or something.

The next morning at breakfast Mum asked me what I’d been doing in the kitchen the night before.  I felt a chill go right through me and said that I’d thought it had been her or Dad.  She just looked at me perplexed, but I felt scared.  If it wasn’t Mum or Dad, and it wasn’t me in the kitchen last night, then who (or what) was it?

A few nights later I was woken by the sound of drawers sliding open and cutlery rattling, again coming from the kitchen.  I lay dead-still and listened.  I heard footsteps walking around and tried to tell myself it was just Mum or Dad, thirsty or hungry.  I shut my eyes tightly and tried to ignore the sounds and go back to sleep, telling myself all was ok.

I heard the footsteps get louder and louder and nearer and nearer and scrunched myself up under the doona.  My door opened.  The footsteps came right up to my bed.  I lay as still as I possibly could, huddled under the covers.  All of a sudden something poked me and I jumped and screamed.  Mixed with my scream was Mum’s.  I’d given her a fright almost as much as she had me.   She snapped on the light and I wrenched the covers off my head. 

“Was that you in the kitchen?” Mum asked in hushed tones. 
“No, I’ve been here in bed ... I thought it was you” I replied.

We looked bleakly at each other.  Heavy footsteps were coming towards my room.  Mum and I just stared at each other, holding our breath, frozen in fear.  Dad swung open the door and we relaxed momentarily.  He looked at us both in confusion.
“What’s the screaming about?”  he asked, looking from me to Mum and back again.
“We just gave each other a fright” Mum replied. Dad shrugged his shoulders and went back to bed.  Mum leaned in and hugged and kissed me, then silently made her way back to her room without another word.

It was quiet for a few nights until the end of the following week.  Then the footsteps and clattering cutlery would happen for a night or so, then all would be quiet again for nearly a week.  After a month or so I noticed that a bit of a pattern started to take shape.  It seemed every Thursday or Friday and Sunday nights the noise would come from the kitchen for an hour or so, generally between 2 and 4am. 

Nothing else ever happened ... nothing ever went missing and no one ever saw or heard anything else.  Just the noise and footsteps in the kitchen.  It seemed harmless enough and with time we just learned to live with it. We stayed in that old house for seven years before Mum and Dad sold up and we moved on. 

The old Fitzgerald house is still there and a young family lives in it today I believe, but I don’t know if the weekly kitchen clatter still goes on, and I don’t really want to.  I haven’t experienced anything like that since, and I don’t want to ever again.