Signs from the Otherside
by Martha Stapleton
Back in 1982, we didn't use car seats for children. I was working second shift at a nursing home while my mom watched the children. I had picked them up about 11:30 pm and was headed home. The oldest, who was 4, was lying in the back seat. The youngest was about 3 months old, and I had him lying beside me on the front seat. There was a stop light that had turned green before I got to it but as I approached for the turn, I heard a voice tell me to stop. The voice was so loud and clear that I stopped at the light instead of turning. At that instant a truck ran the red light. Had I not stopped, I am sure I would have died and maybe the kids as well.
There was an old farm house on the edge of town that kids used to party back in the early 70's. The summer of ‘73 or ’74, my friend and I decided to walk out to the old farm and check it out. I don’t know how long the place had stood empty, but the buildings were in bad shape. The big barn was littered with beer bottles, trash, and old blankets. The house stood several yards south of the barn. The windows were broken and the front door hung on one hinge. We started up the path to the house, but about 30 feet from the porch it felt like I had hit a brick wall. There were voices, almost whispering, but I could not make out what they were saying. It felt like someone was holding me, preventing me from going any farther. I told my friend not to go near the door and she asked why. When I explained what I heard and felt, she said she couldn’t hear anything. She continued up the path and looked in the windows. There was no one around and she never heard the voices, although I could. We continued walking down the old drive to see what was there. Bushes and trees had grown around everything. We came upon an old car that looked like it had crashed head-first into the very large tree it rested against. Out of the blue, I had the very distinct image of the car crashing and someone dying. I remember feeling very uneasy and wanting to get away from the car. As we continued walking, we came to a curve in the drive. Out of the blue I told her that there was a small family cemetery around the bend. Neither of us had ever been to this farm before, so I don’t know how I would know something like that. When we rounded the bend we looked, and there, under weeds and vines, were several small headstones. By now, I was getting nervous. These were things I had never experienced before, and I was more than ready to leave that place. We left that day, and I never went back.
This story was told to me by a co-worker:
My husband and I were renting a big house on the hill south of the river. Our first child, a boy, was very sick. He was only a year old, and the doctor was not able to do anymore to help him. (This was before we had all the antibiotics to use.) My husband worked third shift, so my sister came to spend the night. I had been hearing noises at night and was afraid to stay by myself. This particular night we had put my son on the couch in the front room downstairs. It was cold and the heat from the fireplace kept the room warm. Since he was so bad, we took turns sleeping. That way one of us was always awake in case he stopped breathing. It must have been about three in the morning when my sister woke me up. She thought she heard noises upstairs and asked if my husband had come home early. He hadn't, so we went to check it out, thinking someone had come into the house. We checked the rooms upstairs, then the one downstairs but found no one. I thought it might have been the wind, since it had been blowing real hard all night. As we entered the front room my heart stood still. There, standing by my son, was the figure of a woman. It looked like she had her hand on him and was starting to bend down. I yelled at her and she looked up, her eyes wide with fear, and then vanished into thin air. It seemed like a long time before either of us moved. I gathered my son, wrapped him in a quilt, and we went to my sister’s house. I don’t think our husbands ever believed us, but I refused to go back into the house. We stayed with my sister until we found a new place to live. My son died two days after this happened.
My husband and I were renting a big house on the hill south of the river. Our first child, a boy, was very sick. He was only a year old, and the doctor was not able to do anymore to help him. (This was before we had all the antibiotics to use.) My husband worked third shift, so my sister came to spend the night. I had been hearing noises at night and was afraid to stay by myself. This particular night we had put my son on the couch in the front room downstairs. It was cold and the heat from the fireplace kept the room warm. Since he was so bad, we took turns sleeping. That way one of us was always awake in case he stopped breathing. It must have been about three in the morning when my sister woke me up. She thought she heard noises upstairs and asked if my husband had come home early. He hadn't, so we went to check it out, thinking someone had come into the house. We checked the rooms upstairs, then the one downstairs but found no one. I thought it might have been the wind, since it had been blowing real hard all night. As we entered the front room my heart stood still. There, standing by my son, was the figure of a woman. It looked like she had her hand on him and was starting to bend down. I yelled at her and she looked up, her eyes wide with fear, and then vanished into thin air. It seemed like a long time before either of us moved. I gathered my son, wrapped him in a quilt, and we went to my sister’s house. I don’t think our husbands ever believed us, but I refused to go back into the house. We stayed with my sister until we found a new place to live. My son died two days after this happened.