Stalking Shadows (4 page)

“Well, yeah, but I never thought …” My husband’s sentence trailed off, left unfinished.

“You really made Nathanial mad, Dad,” my son said, trying to hide the smile that played around his mouth.

“I guess I did. We won’t make the same mistake this time,” my husband answered as he picked the shelves up off the floor and stacked them neatly against a wall far away from the window. I could tell he was trying to hide the shock and fear he felt due to Nathanial’s temper tantrum.

We cleaned up the bedroom and my husband rehung the shelves on the opposite wall from the window, leaving Nathanial more than ample space to resume his window gazing. The next weekend my husband patched the holes in the wall by the window and gave the wall a fresh coat of paint, although he insisted that I remain upstairs with him the entire time, in case Nathanial showed up. I never told my husband, but Nathanial was standing at the doorway of the bedroom the entire time, keeping a close eye on the repairs and to ensure that his coveted place by the window wouldn’t be impeded.

A few weeks later my parents, who’d come up from Florida for a visit, took the kids with them to visit relatives who lived up north. They would be gone for a few days and I decided this was the best time to try, once again, to get Nathanial to go into the light and cross over to the other side.

I went upstairs to my son’s room and sat down on his bed.

“Nathanial, come talk to me,” I said. “I’m not mad about the shelves and you’re not in trouble.”

Within a few seconds Nathanial appeared at the doorway and immediately made his way to the window, gazing longingly toward the lot where his house once sat.

“I’m sorry for what I did,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare your children.”

“You didn’t,” I assured him. “But you really need to go into the light, Nathanial. You don’t belong here.”

“I told you I don’t want to see my family,” Nathanial said, anger rising up in his voice.

“I understand that. I really do. But it’s for your own good. Have I ever lied to you, Nathanial?” I asked.

“No.”

“Then you know I’m not lying when I tell you that if you go into the light, you will be healed. You will be healthy, just like everyone else, and no one will make fun of you or be mean to you. You will be happier there,” I pleaded.

“I’m scared,” he said, turning away from the window to look at me.

From the bottom of my heart, I wished I could wrap my arms around him and give him a hug in an attempt to comfort him, but words were the only tool at my disposal.

“I know you are, honey. It’s okay to be afraid. Would it be okay if I got a friend or two of mine from the other side to come help you? They can tell you what it’s like over there, something I can’t do,” I said.

“I will talk to them,” Nathanial consented.

“That’s all I ask,” I told him as I got up from the bed and went to stand beside him at the window. “It will be okay, Nathanial. I promise.”

I went downstairs and lay down on my bed, allowing my mind to clear and calling out to my spirit guides. Within a few moments, I felt a ghostly presence enter the room and telepathically, I told my guide that I needed help in getting Nathanial into the light and over to the other side where he belonged.

My guide assented, and assured me that the matter would be handled in a loving and caring manner.

I swear I should have installed a revolving door to the other side in my son’s room for the next few days. Spirits were popping in and out so fast, and with such frequency, that it made me dizzy because of all the different energies. Apparently my spirit guides felt it necessary to bring in other spirits to help reassure Nathanial, and help him make the transition to the other side. However, the other two spirits in the house didn’t cross over, probably because when they died they crossed over, and chose to come back from time to time to check on things.

The day before my children came home from their trip with my parents, I went upstairs to see how things were progressing with Nathanial. I wandered from room to room in search of him, but to no avail. Nathanial was gone—he’d finally made the transition into the light. The house suddenly felt empty, as if a hole opened up in the energy of the house, and the void I felt in my soul was painful. While I was relieved that Nathanial went into the light, I desperately missed my friend, but it was for the best.

You’d think the story ends there, but it doesn’t. A few years after Nathanial left, we sold the house and bought another house a mile or so away.

The day of the move, I was the last one in the house and walked around to make sure nothing was left behind. I went upstairs and wandered through the empty room my daughter once occupied and when I turned around to leave, Nathanial appeared in the doorway. He appeared strong and robust.

“Nathanial!” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to say goodbye, and to thank you. I’m so happy now that I am where I belong. You have always been my best friend in the world, and I will be there to greet you many years from now when it’s your time to cross over.”

“You’re welcome, my friend,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. “I’m so glad you’re happy. I miss you and love you.”

“I love you, too. I will never be far away,” he answered.

Nathanial’s energy faded, and once again I was left alone with my thoughts and emotions.

I took one last look around and walked out of the house, closing the door on that chapter of my life.

I didn’t think about it at the time all this was going on, probably because I was so busy with the move and the kids, but since writing this book I’ve had time to reflect on my experiences with Nathanial. It dawned on me that I really don’t recall the other two spirits in the house, who will be discussed in greater detail in the next story, interacting with Nathanial in any way.

However, it’s entirely possible that they did interact and Nathanial never mentioned it. This wouldn’t surprise me, because Nathanial spoke very little about his existence as a ghost, and it never dawned on me to ask him about it. I’d assumed that ghosts were not uncommon and they existed just like the living do.

It’s also possible that all of the ghosts in the house weren’t really aware of one another’s existence, and so they wouldn’t communicate with one another. This could explain why the other ghosts in the house, who obviously had crossed over and chose to return from time to time, didn’t leave when Nathanial did, nor try to convince him to cross over.

Just as in the world of the living, in the world of ghosts there are differences between them. For example, some ghosts are earthbound, meaning that they never crossed over to the other side, and some ghosts have crossed over, but have chosen to return from time to time.

There are reasons a ghost might be earthbound, just as there are reasons a ghost has chosen to return. In the case of an earthbound ghost, they may have died suddenly in an accident. They could also have died in their sleep or had a heart attack so severe that death would have been instantaneous. In the previous example the person might not even realize they’re dead, because death was so fast.

In the case of Nathanial, he was afraid to cross over because of his life experiences, and who can blame him? I’ve also run into earthbound ghosts who wouldn’t cross over because of their fear of being judged by a higher power, for things they’d done when they were alive.

Spirits that have crossed over may return from time to time to check up on family, deliver a message, or to visit places they loved so dearly in life. These spirits may also show up for special events like weddings, birthdays, the birth of a child by a member of their family that is still alive, or in some cases, they come back to help a loved one who is going through a difficult time in their life. There is a multitude of reasons a spirit who has crossed over may choose to return, even if only for a brief amount of time. It really depends on the spirit and their individual needs, wants, and desires.

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Chapter 3

The Ancestral Home

As I mentioned in the previous story, Nathanial lived on the second floor of my great-aunt’s home. However, Nathanial and my great-grandmother Lillian weren’t the only ghostly occupants of that property.

Before we begin to talk about the other ghosts, I believe it’s important that you know the history of the property.

Long before land grants were issued for that area of Southfield, Michigan, Native Americans occupied the land, but were forced out by the US government.

My great-grandfather acquired a large parcel of land through the Federal Land-Grant Act, back in the early 1900s. He and my great-grandmother quickly built the house that still stands today and moved in. Shortly after that, my great-
grandfather plowed the land and began mushroom farming, along with working in one of the local factories.

Through the years, various members of my family migrated to Michigan, so my great-grandfather converted one of his outbuildings into a comfortable home for the relatives, until they got on their feet in this new area.

Eventually the house moved down the descendant chain, until it became the home of my great-aunt Louisa, affectionately known as Aunt Tote, because when she was a child she liked to be carried or “toted” everywhere.

As I mentioned before, I spent a lot of time at the house with Aunt Tote and Nathanial, although no one but me believed he existed—denial can be a wonderful thing sometimes.

I can remember other spirits being in the house when I was a child, but I didn’t pay them any mind, and they pretty much ignored me, as well.

The year I turned fifteen, Aunt Tote became very ill and was close to death. The last time I spoke to her when she was alive she told me, among other things, that when I got married I would have her house. At fifteen, I was nowhere near getting married, but I thanked her politely and after a few more minutes of cherished conversation and goodbyes, she quietly died. I remember sitting by her hospital bed for quite some time, not wanting to believe that she was gone, but once I saw her soul leave her body and ascend into the heavens, I knew I had to let her go. After Aunt Tote’s death, my dad sold the house on a land contract to a young couple who’d just been married.

Fast forward five years and I’m not only twenty years old, but I’m months away from my own wedding. My fiancé and I were urgently searching for the perfect place to live, but budgetary restrictions and two totally different tastes in décor were making things difficult.

Two months before the wedding my dad received a call from the people who’d bought Aunt Tote’s house; they were getting divorced and wanted to know if my dad wanted to purchase the house back. My dad jumped at the chance, and then sold the house to me. So, in the end, I did have the house when I got married, just like Aunt Tote said I would. However, that was just a hint of what was to come.

What I didn’t anticipate is that two other ghosts besides Nathanial were also in the house.

One of the ghosts took a little work to figure out. I hung two pictures in the living room, one over the couch and one over the fireplace. I then ran to the store to get some cleaning supplies. When I returned home, the pictures were reversed, meaning the one over the fireplace was now over the couch and vice versa. I knew no one else was home. My husband was at work and my parents were in Florida. I switched the pictures back where I had originally hung them, and spent the next hour cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom.

When I returned to the living room I found the pictures switched again.
What the hell?
I thought. Then it dawned on me—the pictures were painted by my great-grandmother Lillian, who built the house and lived there for many years.

I called my mom and asked her where Lillian used to have those two pictures hung when she lived in the house. Sure enough, the pictures were hung in the opposite places that I’d hung them; Lillian switched them to where she’d hung them.

After hanging up the phone, I walked into the living room to address Lillian directly.

“Okay, Great-Grandmother. I understand now. I’ll leave the pictures where you want them,” I said aloud.

While I didn’t get any response, I know she heard me because she never bothered those pictures again for the eight years we lived there … at least until the day came when we decided to sell the house and move to a more family-friendly neighborhood. Not that we lived in a bad area, because we didn’t, but the house was on a busy main street and I was concerned about the kids getting hit by one of the speeding cars going by.

After we signed the papers to list the house for sale, my husband left for work and the kids were in school. I’d run a few errands and returned home a couple of hours later, to find one of the pictures Lillian painted on the floor across the room—the glass smashed to smithereens. Apparently she was showing her displeasure that the family home was once again leaving the family. I cleaned up the glass and packed all of her paintings safely away so they could be rehung with honor at the new house.

Now, I have never figured out the third ghost, besides Nathanial and Lillian, even to this day. I could sense the spirit was that of a man, and his energy was very strong, so this meant he was a powerful spirit. While I kept getting the picture in my head of a large, Native American man, I could never prove that’s who he was.