Bradford College, MA, Ghosts – Summary

Bradford College, Bradford, Massachusetts – 11 March 2000

Bradford College ghostsAfter hearing about haunted Bradford College for months, a group of ghost hunters explored the legends – and buildings  – of Bradford College.

We weren’t expecting ghosts. Most of the stories were so fantastical, we thought they were urban legends.

We were wrong.

The following is a brief summary of our March 2000 paranormal investigation, with links to my (online) reports.

The ghosts were real. We witnessed several of them, and then researched their stories. In some cases, evidence was scant. But, we couldn’t deny what we’d seen, heard, and felt.

Even more disturbing, the pond by the college dorms may be haunted… but it might not be a ghost. Whatever’s at that deeply troubling site, it could be something far darker.

Bradford College has closed. The site is now Zion Bible College. Do not attempt to visit it without permission.

Here’s what we’d heard about Bradford College’s ghosts, before our visit:

BRADFORD COLLEGE ACADEMY BUILDING

Bradford College walkwayThis building is the main building on campus, with offices and dormitories. The Academy Building is also the site of numerous manifestations, mostly focused on the “Amy and the priest” story.

According to one tale, when the college had been a girls’ school, a student (Amy) had become pregnant by a priest.

He tried to keep her quiet, and she eventually killed herself – or was killed by the priest.

There are several variations of this story.

Our reports:

THE TUNNELS

We visited the underground tunnels linking several Bradford buildings. The tunnels are eerie, and troubling to explore. Our reports:

The stories from Denworth are more recent, but some are almost identical to the Amy-and-the-priest tale from Academy:

A student had an affair with a drama professor, or perhaps she was raped.

He threatened her when she said she was pregnant and would tell the administration. Then, he killed her and the baby. (Or, he killed her when she was pregnant, or some variation of this sordid ending.)

The ghostly student is generally mischievous, playing pranks on people in the theatre.

She does not like to be talked about. She has been heard singing “Hush, Little Baby,” in the upstairs part of the building.

Our visit to Denworth was easily the most dramatic encounter with an actual ghost on the Bradford campus. It was one of our last stops when touring Bradford College.

My report:

TUPELO POND

Tupelo Pond has two ghost stories.

  1. A boy drowned in the pond and that’s why it’s haunted. There’s not much more to that story, at the pond itself. His ghost appears in one or more dorms. (If you have more insights, leave a comment.)
  2. Most locals & former students talk about a more colorful legend. It includes haunted ducks or other wildlife. They also reference a rising mist at night, and a horrific stench, as well.

Those eerie events at the pond are attributed to the text mentioned in H. P. Lovecraft’s famous account of the Necronomicon.

According to local stories, the Necronomicon was buried in a secret tunnel that goes underneath the pond. The tunnel was sealed and its exact location is unknown. Because it’s so evil, the book may be guarded by demons, disguised as ducks… but the ducks’ behavior is so odd, few are fooled into thinking they’re just everyday wildlife.

The mist and stench come from Hell, because the Devil visits “his” book, regularly, usually at night between 10 PM and 3 AM.

My report:  Bradford College – Tupelo Pond.

TUPELO EAST AND TUPELO WEST DORMS

These are the sites of a variety of stories, mostly related to the ghost of the little boy who drowned in the pond. He’s heard playing, particularly in the upstairs rooms of these two dorms. Tupelo West was the last stop on our tour of Bradford. Nothing dramatic happened there.

My report: Tupelo West

GREENLEAF HOUSE

One of the most recent stories, where a foreign student (perhaps Japanese) checked into the dorm early. While alone in the building, he left his room, and upon returning, he saw bloody footprints outside his door. In his room, he found an old woman, covered with blood. Variations of this story place the woman in a bathroom, or a reflection in the mirror only, and she’s young and in a black dress or a white gown, covered in blood.

We did not visit Greenleaf House.

Other locations – There are several other, less famous stories of ghosts on the campus. We did not investigate them.

ADDITIONAL NOTES

I revisited Denworth Hall in April 2000. I confirmed the anomalous, high EMF readings in the stairwell approaching the dance studio, upstairs. The fuse box is responsible for elevated readings approximately 8 inches from the box. The other high EMF readings on 11 March 2000 and April 2000 are still unexplained. The girl was still in the area, but I was deliberately blocking communications from her. My purpose in visiting that area was to check the EMF readings in a “non-haunted” context.

I also visited the actual upstairs theatre in the building.

There is a male ghost, or perhaps his residual energy, on the right side of the stage as you are facing it from the audience. He’s tempermental but not malicious. I think he’s from around 1930 or so, but he could be earlier or later.

He’s tall, lanky, wears casual clothing, but he’s not in a tee-shirt from the current era.

His “territory” covers an area of floorspace about 5 feet, square, in the wings but not in the rest of the backstage. I lean towards his presence being residual energy.

There is an entity above the stage, around the metal grid (“catwalk”) far above the stage. I did not like it. It “looked” black and human-sized. At the time, I did not think that it was, or ever had been, human. It seemed malicious to me.

Since then, people have told me another story, this one involving a young woman who hung herself from the catwalk.

To read about the entire investigation, start with our Preparations for Bradford College Ghost Investigation

Bradford College, MA, Ghosts – 2. Academy 1, 2

Bradford College, Bradford, Massachusetts – 11 March 2000

Academy Building – first floor bathroom, second floor radio station area

In the parking lot, James and I met Alan (pseudonym of the ghost hunter and karate instructor described in Gilson Cemetery accounts) and Ann (pseudonym of another ghost hunter and psychic). Soon, we were joined by Samantha Farley, the author of the paper about Bradford’s ghosts and the social implications of ghost stories.

FIRST FLOOR

Our first stop was a bathroom on the first floor, noted for odd condensation though is is an unlikely location for it. It felt a little odd there, but I found no EMF readings in the room. This was what I was expecting: minor “paranormal” energy levels, but nothing dramatic. Nothing that couldn’t be explained by overactive imaginations in an old building.

SECOND FLOOR

Next, we visited the second floor, near the radio station. This had been the focus of the “Amy and the priest” stories.

The area outside the radio station door seemed odd. There was legend of someone falling or jumping out the window there.

Through that window, I could see a windowed passageway from another building, and I felt that it was not good. Something unpleasant had occurred after someone had arrived from that passageway.

The EMF meter showed nothing unusual, with no readings at all except near the radio station door, as one would expect with significant electrical equipment there.

We waited in that area for awhile, because the energy was quite weak but I wanted to try to identify the residual energy impressions. Frankly, I thought this was about as good as it was going to get, on this ghost hunt. If I’d had any idea that we’d encounter an actual ghost later, I wouldn’t have spent so much time and energy on this area of the Academy building.

A student saw us, and asked what we were doing. I replied that I was checking energy levels for ghosts. He informed us that his room was the most haunted on campus, just a few feet away from where we were standing.

Although the EMF meter showed only small readings in his suite of rooms, the wall at the far left upon entering his room, seemed to drip unpleasant energy. “Drip” is the word that impressed me at the time. “Ooze” came to mind, as well.

I informed the student that there were minor readings on the EMF meter, but that the room felt awful and I certainly wouldn’t sleep there. Ann also didn’t like that corner of the room. The others were still out in the hall, by the radio station.

James was experimenting with the pendulum, and by the window, he was getting steady and strong “No, no, no” responses from the pendulum, without asking any questions.

GHOST OF THE BLONDE STUDENT

Now that I had more of a sense of the residual energy–or perhaps it was just the timing–I suddenly “saw” a slender, blonde-haired girl, running in the direction we were walking (from the dorm room, towards the radio station), and into a wall where–in the internal/psychic vision–she ran through a doorway. It was dark past the doorway, so I didn’t know if it was a hall or a room, or the closet described in the ghost stories.

Bradford College - Amy's board

Above is a photo of the place where I “saw” the doorway that the girl ran through. The picture shows a bright white area on the board, near where I saw the door, but this is probably a reflection from my flash in the photo.

This series of images repeated itself about half a dozen times, each time becoming clearer. The girl was about five feet tall, maybe as tall as five foot three, but probably shorter. She was extremely slender. Someone asked me if she was anorexic, but I have the idea that she was merely a child, about 12-14 years old in appearance, and slender due to her youth, perhaps 80 pounds or so.

She had white-blonde hair, unusual in girls that mature, so she may have had Scandinavian or Germanic ancestry. Her hair was slightly stringy, and it reached halfway down her back. It was not thick hair, but not wispy either. It was straight, with a very slight wave towards the ends.

She was wearing a blouse, sometimes I saw it as pastel pink; at other times it seemed pale blue or lavender. The skirt or perhaps jumper, left the strongest impression. I saw it as a school uniform or Scottish plaid, with a brilliant electric blue and vivid red dominating. There was more blue in the plaid, than in most Scottish tartans. It was a very bold print.

Ordinarily I can use clothing to date a vision. However, due to her youth, a skirt–which I’d otherwise describe as late 1960’s–could have been from almost any era. She was outgrowing it, and it was at about knee length or slightly shorter. It looked too small for her.

I mostly saw her from the back, doing the teensy-step kind of run that children do, when they’re trying to sneak around. In one vision, she was out of breath and making a low, shrill noise as if she was terrified. In the others, there were no sounds and she didn’t seem certain that she was in danger. It was as if, sometimes as this energy is replayed, she thinks it could be a game.

GHOST OF THE EVIL MONK

I also “saw” a man in black clothing, with heavy shoes, striding angrily up the corridor that connected the two buildings. He had dark hair, notably darker than it should have been, for the age suggested by wrinkles on his forehead. Then again, he was angry, so perhaps that exaggerated the wrinkles. He had very thick eyebrows, but they weren’t curly. His complexion was fairly ruddy, but that may have been from anger and/or exertion.

I know that he didn’t care if anyone heard him. His footsteps were loud and heavy, and I also heard the swish-swish of cloth against cloth. This could indicate that he was carrying something made of cloth, that rubbed against his pants as he walked. Or he may have been in robes. Or he may have had very baggy pants, which flapped around his legs with each stride.

ENERGY LINGERS AT THE WALL

The visual energy imprint didn’t develop any further, so we took a few photos. Ann’s new camera refused to take photos of the wall where I “saw” the blonde girl. Ann stepped about four feet away, and pointed the camera in another direction, and it worked fine. Returning to photograph the wall, repeated attempts continued to fail.

I took a few photos with my two cameras. I took one photo with the camera that I’ve used at Gilson, that shows me spectral energy through the viewfinder. There was a bright light on the wall when I looked, at about the height a light fixture would be if there was a hall, room, or closet on the other side of what’s now just a wall. It was definitely artificial light, not sunlight or another energy form.

GHOSTS IN OTHER DORM ROOMS

In Bradford, we were approached by several other students who had experienced odd noises in their rooms. About half the rooms measured in the 2-2.8 range with my EMF meter. This is elevated energy, but nothing spectacular. Higher readings were readily explained by electrical equipment, such as televisions, computers, stereos, and so on.

Most of the dorm room stories involved knocking or slapping noises, working their way around the interior walls of the room. Classic poltergeist activity, and often frightening, but nothing to worry about.

In the next article: Bradford College – Academy floors three and four

Bradford College, MA, Ghosts – 3. Academy 3, 4

Bradford College, Bradford, Massachusetts – 11 March 2000

Academy Building – third and fourth floors

THIRD FLOOR

Our next stop was the conference room on the third floor. This is a large, open room with tables and chairs in the middle for meetings.

As soon as I entered, I could “see” a cluster of students towards the center of the room, around something or someone–perhaps a couple of people–and involved in something mischievous. I interpreted this as hazing, and said so. James confirmed that with the pendulum.

Later, we found out that students had been using a Ouija board in that room, and that may account for some of the clusters that I saw.

It wasn’t strong energy, or particularly awful. Just mischief, sometimes with disturbing consequences, but the events in the center of the room were fairly harmless.

THE EMF READINGS GO FLAT… FOR A MINUTE

In the far right corner of the room, there was some stronger, unpleasant energy. I had mild EMF readings, between 2 and 3. It felt as if something odd had happened there. The event may have been awful at the time, but the residual energy wasn’t that strong for me. I had the very vague idea that someone may have gone out that row of windows, but it wasn’t a clear image. The energy was there, but not distinct enough for me to get a vivid impression.

Alan joined me there, and the EMF meter suddenly went flat. No readings at all. Alan face acquired that odd color he gets, when he’s in some unpleasant energy. I put the EMF meter next to him, and the readings returned–emanating from his body. He was not carrying a camera or cell phone.

The surrounding area remained entirely flat. Alan, whom we jokingly call “ghostbait,” had absorbed the residual energy. The area felt clear. Alan looked grim. He stayed there for a few more minutes, and then walked away.

I checked the rest of the room, and there were no significant readings. However, in the front left corner of the room (if you’re standing at either of the doors, entering from the hall), I had readings of 4-5 near the part of the wall where it looks as if someone has hit the wall with a hammer. There are round indentations, which mar the wall and the paint on it.

From outside the room, there were elevated readings on the other side of this area, so I assume there’s some lightly-shielded electrical wiring there, or an unshielded television upstairs, producing EMF radiation.

IT COULD HAPPEN HERE

One notable event in that room, was when Ann decided to take a photo of a bulletin board in the room. It was covered with red construction paper, and at the top of the board, black letters said, “It Could Happen Here…” We had joked about how appropriate that line was. That part of the room didn’t seem to have any spectral energy, it was just funny.

Ann’s camera refused to work, again. No photo. That was odd. Alan and James tried to get the camera to work when it failed, and no one could see any reason why it was balking. They were not able to get the camera to work.

THE FOURTH FLOOR

We climbed to the fourth floor, a commons room, number 457. I felt as if the ceiling was closing in on me, as I approached this room. It was as if the space was getting smaller, as in Alice in Wonderland.

Inside the room, I sensed that this was a “very bad room,” as I described it. Some very bad things had happened there. That’s all I can say. The words and impressions are through childish eyes. I do see smaller children, perhaps grammar school age, not college, and they’re somehow restrained. It’s not good. The words that came to me clearly were, “very bad.”

At the row of large windows, at the end of the room, I knew that someone had gone out that window. My impression was an odd mix, not violence exactly, and not exactly a suicide. I interpreted it as one of those 1970’s incidents where someone on drugs thought he could fly, and leaped out a window. However, that’s just a rationalization of the odd imagery I perceived there.

Ann commented that she could feel a sense of falling, and sort of “see” that someone had hit the ground there.

I was not so impressed with the person who may have gone out the window (or almost fallen?), but that the room had been used for some sort of discipline. I could sense that a lot of children had been in there, and it had been an awful experience to be summoned there.

THEN THE PENDULUM BROKE

One surprising event in that room, was when James tried to use my new pendulum. It broke, abruptly. The big link connecting the chain to the quartz pendulum opened, and even mechanically-inclined James couldn’t fix it, until after we returned home.

Outside the room, Ann tried to take more photos. Her camera was obstinate, but she was finally able to get a photo with it.

Again, the camera worked just fine when it wasn’t pointed at a haunted location, but there were problems when she tried to photograph any area where energy was reported.

The next article: Bradford College – haunted tunnels

Bradford College, MA, Ghosts – 5. Denworth Hall

Bradford College, Bradford, Massachusetts – 11 March 2000

Denworth Hall and Theatre

(Note: It took two tries to write this, the morning after our visit to Bradford. Somehow, my computer saved the later Tupelo Pond page over the Denworth page. This never, ever happens. I’m reluctant to say this bizarre error confirms that the ghost in Denworth does not like to be talked about… but I’ll mention it anyway.)

We approached Denworth Hall from the underground tunnels. The Denworth Theatre doors were well-locked, in preparation for the performance that night. We did, however, have access to the stairwell.

I was still fairly certain that the Denworth Theatre ghost stories were colorful only because the people who told them were involved in theatrics. Theatre ghosts are nearly always dramatic, but rarely mean or tragic. Mostly, they’re flamboyant and sometimes humorous.

I didn’t expect any significant encounters, and I was barely interested in getting into the theatre when the doors seemed to be locked. I was eager to get to Tupelo West.

One of our investigators, Ann, found an unlocked entrance. I shrugged and figured, “why not,” as I followed the group.

THE COSTUME ROOM

A short series of stairs led from the landing to a brief, very dark corridor with an unlocked door to the costume room. It was dismal out, there were no windows in this corridor, the floor was dark brown, and there was no reason for the hall to be light. However, there was no reason for it to be as dark and murky as it looked, either.

Ann backed away from the costume room and out of the short corridor, looking deathly pale. She said that she couldn’t go in there.

I was still under the illusion that the Denworth ghost was seriously overrated.

I strode into the corridor, encountering no negative energy until I reached the door to the costume room. As I reached for the doorknob to support me, I was hit with a wave of sadness and revulsion.

Like Ann, I backed out of the corridor. However, the corridor was suddenly lighter, as it should have been in that setting. Ann tried entering that area again, and reported that it was fine now.

The others explored the costume room. I could not go back in there.

Instead, I checked the bathroom on the other side of the corridor. It was as if its threshold shut out the energy just outside its door. The bathroom seemed clear, cheerful, and fine.

I later found out that the bathroom is a relatively recent addition to that area.

THE GHOSTLY GIRL ON THE STAIRS

Then I waited in the stairwell, on a landing, while most of the group explored adjacent areas. My attention was drawn up the stairs when I heard a softly whispered song, or the start of one.

Looking up past the next landing, I saw the shadow of a girl on the wall. It was faint, but this was not a psychic vision. It existed in reality, for anyone to see if they knew what to look for, and where. I half-expected to see a young teen stroll down the stairs, caught exploring the otherwise-locked theatre.

As I watched, the outline became more defined. I began to see a girl’s figure on the actual stairway, stepping from the third step down to the second. This seemed like a psychic vision, but she may have been seen by others.

At first, I saw a fleeting flash of something that was rust-colored. It could be her clothing, or her hair. Watching her was like seeing a transporter problem on Star Trek. I was reminded of the episode where Barclay is in a malfunctioning transporter, and something wormlike was trying to gnaw on his arm. The image was misty as in that episode.

This psychic vision (?) “blinked” in and out, and I caught merely split-second images. The girl seemed to be wearing a drop-waisted dress, with a full skirt that’s a little longer than modern-day clothing. It was like a homemade dress from the Flapper Era. I saw a grey dress, but it could have been a white dress in the shadows, or a black dress that was barely materialized in the vision… or another color altogether. It did not seem to be a print fabric.

The girl had long hair, fairly straight. I don’t know the color. It was not pale like the coloring of the girl in the Academy building.

THE GHOST BEGAN TO SING

Her form did not get clearer past that point, but her voice did. She was singing a song that started “Hush, Little Baby.” Her voice was lovely, with perfect pitch and a quality that suggested that she’d had singing lessons. It had a soft edge to it, which reminded me of Marilyn Monroe’s “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” but this was a more throaty and clear voice, without any attempt at babylike cuteness.

As she continued to sing, I realized that I’d never heard this part of the song before, but it seemed to segue into an old favorite, which I’ve always called the “Mockingbird Song.” I’ve just never known how that song starts. I think that’s what I was hearing, in Denworth.

At that point, the stairwell seemed to spin wildly around me. I was overwhelmed as an energy surge hit, and I could see that the girl was singing to a doll. It was a large doll, and I think it was wearing a floral dress with a ruby or maroon collar. It was the size of a newborn baby, perhaps the smallest “Saucy Walker” doll of the early 1950’s.

I was struck by the tragedy of it. I was far too close to this girl, psychically. I knew that she had been driven mad by some horrific events linked to the theatre. Nobody that mature (probably 18 years old, or so) sings that seriously to a doll.

Ann speculated that the girl was raped and then lost the baby. I honestly can’t tell what happened. The girl was mad, that’s all I know.

EMF EVIDENCE

After a few minutes, Alan took my EMF meter, and he and James went up the stairs to where I’d seen the ghost. I could see the ghost linger for a moment, then dash up the stairs as her nerve failed her.

Alan apparently got some significant EMF readings in that area, but some (not all) could be attributed to a fuse box (?) at the top of the stairs.

We discussed what we experienced for a few more minutes, and then solemnly left the theatre building.

ECHOES IN THE TUNNELS BENEATH THE BUILDING

We exited through the tunnels, which seemed tame by comparison, now. I felt terribly nauseated by the encounter with the ghost, and knew she was in a frustrated rage because she thought we were deserting her. I had the strong psychic impression that the ghost didn’t want us to leave, but I also knew that we’d not accomplish anything by staying with her.

Ann said that she could hear the girl crying, “Wait! Wait! Don’t leave!” as we walked through the tunnels. Ann said that the girl’s voice echoed in the tunnels.

It was pretty awful.

Samantha asked if there was anything we could do, to help the ghost. I replied that you can help a ghost that is rational but confused. It’s unlikely that anyone can help a ghost that is as far over-the-edge as the ghost in Denworth.

In my opinion, the simplest conclusion would be to tear that building down. Perhaps then the ghost will be released from whatever compels her to remain there.

Next page: An odd but uneventful walk past Tupelo Pond

Portsmouth, NH – Portrait of a Real Ghost

Ghostly man in wondow of Portsmouth house.

Portsmouth house, Portsmouth, NH
October 1999, about 11 a.m.

This photo was taken outside a Portsmouth private residence. While living in that house, I saw two ghosts and experienced considerable poltergeist phenomena. I took several photos of the house in late October 1999, to illustrate my pages about this very haunted house.

When I had this film printed and examined the photos, I kept returning to the photo shown above. Something about it didn’t seem “right.” My attention was drawn to what seemed to be window reflections of the old lilac bush in front of the house.

The following day, I decided to enhance the image with my computer, simply making it larger so I could determine what was bothering me about the picture. That enlargement appears below:

pnh-winman

Either this photo looks like a man looking to the right, with longish hair and 19th-century dark sunglasses, or it looks like a reflection of lilac leaves. Nobody seems undecided about this photo!

If you’d seen the male ghost in that house, you’d recognize the window reflection right away: That’s our ghost. He has a broken-looking nose, a scar under his right cheekbone, and his hair is thinning on top.

My sketch from memory, and from the photo.

In spectral appearance, he was about 5’5″ tall and stocky. He looked like a hastily-groomed, slightly British version of Buffalo Bill… sort of.

Among people I know in modern times, our ghost reminded me of folk singer Jaime Brockett.

When our ghost wasn’t wearing sunglasses, he had average no-particular-color eyes, somewhat tanned skin, and slightly sun-bleached brown hair. He favored brown clothing, usually wore a suit, rarely buttoned his jacket, and he always seemed in a hurry to go nowhere. When I took this photo, I had the sense that someone was at the window, but I didn’t notice the man’s face.

It seemed reasonable that the current residents of the house might have been peering out at the strange woman taking photos of their house. I don’t put any significance on my discomfort at the time.

Read about our experiences in Portsmouth – real ghosts, private home

Camera: Olympus AF-1, point-and-shoot
Film type: Kodak ASA 400 b&w film, 35mm
Negative shows: Same image. Nothing unusual.
Developed and printed by: Shaw’s Supermarket overnight photo service

Portsmouth, NH – Real Ghosts, private home

A TRUE GHOST STORY

It was too easy. In the early 1990s, I placed a notice on a bulletin board, looking for a “nothing down” house to buy near Portsmouth, NH. Several people called within the week, but one house seemed almost perfect: a house within walking distance of downtown Portsmouth.

The owner was eager to leave. Perhaps too eager, but I believed her when she said that her reduced salary (since being disabled) left her unable to pay the mortgage on both an in-town house and her summer home. Also, the two-story in-town house seemed too large since her divorce.

The house was near downtown, in an area that was either on its way up, or continuing to descend into… well, the kind of neighborhood I wouldn’t raise my three children in. Betting on the former, we decided to take a chance. We had nothing to lose, since we were renting on a trial basis first.

The owner was out of the house within three days, and we moved in. I remember how gleefully she laughed as she drove away. It seemed odd, but I thought maybe it was just her relief, since she’d finally rented the house.

The house needed work. Right away, we covered the black, half-finished floor in the kitchen with a white-and-gray vinyl flooring, and painted the yellowing walls and cabinets shiny white. It looked brighter then, but not quite right.

In fact, for the next year we continued to paint, remodel, redecorate and upgrade the old house, but it remained unwelcoming. It wasn’t anything specific, just the feeling that no matter what we did, the house would always need something that paint and wallpaper couldn’t fix.

Maybe the angles weren’t quite straight at the corners. Maybe the floor wasn’t quite level. I should have measured these things, but instead kept redecorating, trying to solve the problem. I had the idea that a vase of flowers here, and a fresh coat of paint there, or a new throw rug, would finally lend a sense of ease to the house. But nothing seemed to make this house a “home” for us.

Still, we continued on a “rent to own” basis, planning to take over the mortgage as soon as we accumulated the down payment.

There were odd noises during the afternoon and towards dusk, like footsteps on the second floor when no one was there. The faucets, particularly in the upstairs bathroom, would turn themselves on. I said to myself, “Older houses have these quirks, especially when temperatures drop in the evening. It’s okay.”

One night, I stopped making “logical” excuses:

It was about four in the afternoon, and the sun had not set yet. It had been a sunny day, and I was in a cheerful mood as I prepared dinner at the stove. It was a jambalaya dish, all made in one skillet. I was sauteeing the onion and sausage when I left the spatula in the skillet, and stepped across the room to get rice out of the cabinet.

I picked up the pink-trimmed Tupperware container of rice, and turned around just in time to see the spatula make a mid-air twirl as it flew across the room and landed on the floor at the opposite wall.

Always choosing the rational explanation first, I decided that a slice of sausage must have cooked in just the right way to release a burst of air and propel the spatula. And to prove it to myself, I washed the spatula and put it back where I’d left it, and then hit the handle with my fist to deliberately send the spatula into the air.

It rose about two inches and then fell on top of the stove, next to the skillet.

I repeated my experiment about fifteen times, trying to find a way to replicate what I’d seen when I’d picked up the rice. Different angles. Different ways of hitting it. Nothing worked.

Still dismissing the obvious poltergeist answer, I continued cooking. Once again, I stepped away from the stove for more ingredients, and again, the spatula was airborne. This time it landed about five feet from the stove.

I resumed my experiments to make the same thing happen, but couldn’t figure how to do it. Nothing seemed to work.

I continued cooking, feeling very uneasy. The rest of the meal was without incident, but I told my (mechanical engineer) husband about the flying spatula, and he said there was no logical–or scientific–way it could happen.

He wanted to believe me, but my story didn’t make sense.

I thought about this, and decided not to make anything of it.

Next, in part two: The ghost makes an appearance