What Happened to Maranda?
Contributor: wendalpuss
When I was about 16, I had a friend named Maranda. We were such good friends because both of us had messed-up parents. Hardly anybody understood us, the way we turned all of our biggest fears into jokes and felt that laughter was the fix for everything. She said to make someone laugh or just be happy is a feeling of accomplishment, a sense of pride.
We were the outcasts, the loners (though we were never without the company of the other). It felt good and everything worked perfectly until Maranda could not laugh anymore.
It began when her grandpa died. We all were extremely depressed, but I still made Maranda laugh, even though you could smell the falseness in the air. On Aug. 2, 2001, Maranda took enough tranquilizers to put a full-grown elephant down for a good five hours. Luckily, her cousin came downstairs and found her with her head on the ground and her feet on the bed. She was rushed immediately to the hospital.
Maranda was considered dead for 20 minutes. She awoke screaming and thrashing. She seemed to not recognize any of the three people at her bedside, including me. When the nurse tried to calm her, Maranda bit her as hard as she could, almost instantly drawing blood.
After a lot of thorazine and a few months in a “close watch facility,” Maranda was finally home. She was always really depressed looking and would not talk at first; she’d only stare out the window. We could not turn the lights off. If we did, she would scream and throw things. She even stabbed her mother one afternoon when she was waking her up from a nap.
After about two years of abuse from Maranda, she woke up one morning and was fine. Almost as if nothing ever happened. About a week after she snapped out of her rage, I sat with her on the railroad tracks (our secret spot), looking out over busy 16th Street. I asked what her rage was for, and she would not answer. I tried to make her laugh, but nothing worked.
Finally, completely frustrated, I screamed at her “What is all this for? You should be happy they brought you back.” I stared at her a long moment and looked away.
Through all the mixed thoughts in my head and the heavy traffic on the street below, I heard her say softly, without looking, “It was you.” I asked her what she was talking about, and for the first time she told me what had happened that day.
She said she just missed him; that she finally realized she could no longer laugh. She decided to do it when I was not there. That way she would have no reason to not do it. She said that she did not remember anything right after she drifted off. She said she woke up in the ambulance. She could see the paramedics doing what they could to save her, but she felt nothing, no pain, no touch, no emotion. She said she began to feel warm, almost hot as she drifted off again.
This time she awoke to her grandfather sitting in front of a large rock. The sky was black, the air was hot and dry, and it was hard to breathe. She said that her grandfather told her, “He’s been waiting for you, my dear. I’ve come to lead you to him.”
She said he got up and walked away, not looking back. She began to follow him, the air getting hotter and thicker with every step. She said she stopped suddenly when she heard laughter – my laughter.
She said she heard her grandfather yell for her to come back as she turned around, and all of a sudden she saw a man so beautiful that she instantly fell to his feet, still hearing my laughter. When her knees hit the ground, she had awakened, screaming and kicking.
“Why are you so sad by that? I would feel – blessed.”
She looked me square in the eye and said, “Papaw’s there in hell, and he is waiting on me.”
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
“GO AWAY! GO AWAY” (A True Ghost Story)
“GO AWAY! GO AWAY”
Contributor: Lady Elisabeth
I have had many experiences with spirits, ghosts if you will, and they normally don’t scare me. Having been able to see them since I was a child, I have become so accustomed to their presence, it doesn’t rattle me much. I do have an unwritten (until now) rule that I think of and project mentally to the spirits when I first walk into a place where there is most likely to be spirit activity ... “NO jumping out and going BOO! It’s not proper behavior and will not win you my friendship or favor.” Most of the time, the spirits are pretty respectful of my wishes.
In 1994 I worked as a field inspector for a security firm in Harrisburg, PA. My job was to drive to all the sites where we had security guards and check on them during the night shifts. I worked 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. Monday through Saturday.
One evening I got a call on the portable phone (not cell phone yet) from an old friend who worked for a different security company in the same area. Harold asked me if I would meet him at one of his sites. He wanted me to go into the building with him for the fire tour because he felt that something was in the building. He wanted to know if I could see it and, if so, what it wanted. I agreed to meet him at the building around 2:30 a.m.
The building was an apartment building near the Harrisburg train/bus station. It was a tall, brick building that had been built in the early 1970s. This building had 13 floors.
As Harold took me up the elevator he told me a little about the building and the fire tour. Even though the building had 13 floors, the elevator only went up to the 12th floor. The elevator shaft had been blocked off in the late seventies. No one lived on the 13th floor and the doors at either end of the hallway leading to the stairs were locked. We were to go up the elevator to the 12th floor, then take the stairs to the 13th floor, check the hallway through the door then go back down the building in a zig zag pattern using the stairs. He said that on the 13th floor is where he avoided going because it always felt malevolent.
We got out of the elevator on the 12th floor and went up the stairs to the 13th floor. When we got to the first landing, the air began to get colder. We walked up the second set of stairs to the 13th floor and the door to the hallway. The door was steel with a large window taking up the middle of the door’s top.
I tried the door handle, and as Harold had said, the door was locked. But I could tell it was locked in more than one way. It was locked physically, but someone had sealed it with what I would consider magick. Not necessarily to keep people out, but to keep something in that hallway.
There were two apartments on the 13th floor; apparently like penthouse apartments. As I was looking through the door window, I thought I saw a black shadowy form move quickly from right to left through the apartment walls.
I looked at Harold and said, “Did you see that?”
“See what?” said Harold.
I was starting to get creeped out. I looked back down the hallway and again saw the black form going back the way it came. I turned to look at Harold.
“I saw it this time,” he said. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said and turned back to the window.
This time something jumped out and said “BOO!” There was a face pressed against the window. I jumped back in terror. The only way I can describe this face was Charlie Manson possessed and raving. I heard screamed at me “GO AWAY! GO AWAY!”
Believe me, I was inspired to GO AWAY very quickly. I ran down the steps all the way to the first floor. I’ve never moved so fast in my entire life. Harold followed me, but upon conversation I discovered he hadn’t seen the face, just followed me when I took off.
Gods forbid someone figures out how to release the seal on that door and if they ever tear down that building and build a new one. That spirit will haunt the place forever.
Contributor: Lady Elisabeth
I have had many experiences with spirits, ghosts if you will, and they normally don’t scare me. Having been able to see them since I was a child, I have become so accustomed to their presence, it doesn’t rattle me much. I do have an unwritten (until now) rule that I think of and project mentally to the spirits when I first walk into a place where there is most likely to be spirit activity ... “NO jumping out and going BOO! It’s not proper behavior and will not win you my friendship or favor.” Most of the time, the spirits are pretty respectful of my wishes.
In 1994 I worked as a field inspector for a security firm in Harrisburg, PA. My job was to drive to all the sites where we had security guards and check on them during the night shifts. I worked 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. Monday through Saturday.
One evening I got a call on the portable phone (not cell phone yet) from an old friend who worked for a different security company in the same area. Harold asked me if I would meet him at one of his sites. He wanted me to go into the building with him for the fire tour because he felt that something was in the building. He wanted to know if I could see it and, if so, what it wanted. I agreed to meet him at the building around 2:30 a.m.
The building was an apartment building near the Harrisburg train/bus station. It was a tall, brick building that had been built in the early 1970s. This building had 13 floors.
As Harold took me up the elevator he told me a little about the building and the fire tour. Even though the building had 13 floors, the elevator only went up to the 12th floor. The elevator shaft had been blocked off in the late seventies. No one lived on the 13th floor and the doors at either end of the hallway leading to the stairs were locked. We were to go up the elevator to the 12th floor, then take the stairs to the 13th floor, check the hallway through the door then go back down the building in a zig zag pattern using the stairs. He said that on the 13th floor is where he avoided going because it always felt malevolent.
We got out of the elevator on the 12th floor and went up the stairs to the 13th floor. When we got to the first landing, the air began to get colder. We walked up the second set of stairs to the 13th floor and the door to the hallway. The door was steel with a large window taking up the middle of the door’s top.
I tried the door handle, and as Harold had said, the door was locked. But I could tell it was locked in more than one way. It was locked physically, but someone had sealed it with what I would consider magick. Not necessarily to keep people out, but to keep something in that hallway.
There were two apartments on the 13th floor; apparently like penthouse apartments. As I was looking through the door window, I thought I saw a black shadowy form move quickly from right to left through the apartment walls.
I looked at Harold and said, “Did you see that?”
“See what?” said Harold.
I was starting to get creeped out. I looked back down the hallway and again saw the black form going back the way it came. I turned to look at Harold.
“I saw it this time,” he said. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said and turned back to the window.
This time something jumped out and said “BOO!” There was a face pressed against the window. I jumped back in terror. The only way I can describe this face was Charlie Manson possessed and raving. I heard screamed at me “GO AWAY! GO AWAY!”
Believe me, I was inspired to GO AWAY very quickly. I ran down the steps all the way to the first floor. I’ve never moved so fast in my entire life. Harold followed me, but upon conversation I discovered he hadn’t seen the face, just followed me when I took off.
Gods forbid someone figures out how to release the seal on that door and if they ever tear down that building and build a new one. That spirit will haunt the place forever.
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