By Paula Bianchi –

It was during the mid-80’s when my husband and I started shopping for our first home together. We were so excited to finally be home owners that we didn’t pay much attention when the realtor disclosed that someone committed suicide in the home. By law, she had to inform us. At the time, we didn’t care. We still wanted the house, so we bought it.

Some of our friends came and helped us move all of our furniture and boxes into our new house. The next day, I was organizing the kitchen cabinets when I came across a picture of a man. It was up against the side wall, deep inside one of the cabinets. I looked at the picture with a man in it, then tossed it in the trash not giving it a second thought.

Over the course of the next few weeks, we were still receiving mail addressed to that man. Now I had a name to go with the picture I threw away. Many more months passed and we became friends with the neighbor across the street. He knew the family and was friends with one of the man’s sons who lived here before us. One day, he told us what had happened to this man, and why he took his own life.

According to our neighbor, this man slept with his oldest son’s girlfriend (or wife, can’t remember), and when the truth came out, he killed himself. After we heard this story, things started happening in our house.

I would put something down, and when I went back for it, it would be gone only to pop up again in places like the hamper, a random drawer, or cabinet. One night after my best friend came to see me on my birthday, I was walking down the hallway towards my bedroom, when I heard a man say my name in my left ear. It was so clear that I turned to answer, but no one was there. Feeling a little shaky, I reached to flip the light switch on in my bedroom, and there was a birthday card propped up against my pillow with my name scrawled across it. My friend had left it there as a surprise.

A few months later, we were awoken by the sound the phone makes when it’s off the hook. My hubby got up to investigate. When he came back to bed, he said to me, “Well you got your wish. We have a ghost.” He told me he found the phone off its hook on the desk in the dinning room, and it was sitting neatly next to the base. He then checked on the kids to see if any of them had gotten up to play a joke or something, and they were all sound asleep.

What happened next is still a little frightening to me, just recalling it for this story gives me the shivers. One morning after my husband left in the early AM for work, I woke up with the feeling of someone on top of me pushing me down into my mattress. The sensation felt so heavy and electrical. I heard a buzzing in my ears, and my heart started racing in my chest when I realized I couldn’t move. My eyes popped open, and I couldn’t see anyone there. I tried to figure out what was happening to me, then suddenly, the feeling slowly dissipated. I sat up and looked around the room.

Right away, I made excuses telling myself that it was just a dream, but a dream had never felt like that before. Even so, I convinced myself it was all in my head. I got up and got ready for my day. I pushed the event to the back of my mind. After a couple of weeks, the fear I felt was almost gone, until, it happened again then again. The exact same thing.  

Now I was freaking out. It was happening so frequently that I started looking for answers. I found some books about ghosts and spirits, in the metaphysical section of the book store, and began reading them with the hope I would learn something, anything I could to stop these events from happening. I told my husband which only made him worry because he didn’t know what to do to help. I talked a lot about it with my sister-in-law, usually first thing in the morning.  

This kept reoccurring week after week and always when my husband was gone. I noticed if I prayed, it would end quicker. I lived with it for months and months, then, one day it took a turn for the worst, and became more intense, leaving me with the feeling of being sexually violated. A feeling I was already quite familar with because I was molested when I was a kid. I was at a loss. I didn’t know what to do. Then one a Sunday, after we came home from having dinner with my in-laws, one of our twin daughters, who was almost 4 at the time, started crying for no reason.

I tried to soothe her, but it only caused her to cry more. “Please, honey,” I said, “Why are you crying?”

“I hear a mean man telling me to run away.” She said.

Her response shocked me. “What do you mean you hear him?” I asked.

“In here,” she pointed to her ear, “I used to hear a nice lady, but now all I hear is the mean man.”

I was floored. I wasn’t the only one experiencing something in our house. This news was so upsetting for me. How was I going to protect her? “What else does he say to you?”

“Only that I’m his daughter, and you’re his wife.” She answered.

My head was swimming. After just experiencing the sudden turn my events had taken, I believed her. I gave her a hug and told her we were going to figure out a way to make the mean man go away, then, I sent her off to play with her brother and sister. At first, I felt overwhelmed. How was I going to help my daughter when I couldn’t even help myself?

All these thoughts were spinning in my head looking for a solution, when out of the muck I hear a very clear and fluid thought telling me, “Just pray. Ask and you shall receive.” It can’t be that simple I thought, but again I was reassured this was the answer.

That night, when I put my daughter to bed, we prayed for the mean man. We asked God and Jesus to send his loved ones and friends to come and take him to the other side. I said the prayer with her, and I repeated it again before I fell asleep. We said it for two weeks straight, then we stopped because my daughter said the nice lady was back. I knew that meant what we had done worked. My daughter never mentioned him again, and my events had stopped. Our ghost crossed over to be with his family and friends.

For our case, it turned out to be just that simple. I’ve never had that terrible feeling again, and I hope I never will. We were very fortunate that our ghost chose to leave. Only my husband and my sister-in-law knew what had happened in our house. It wasn’t until years later that I shared my story with my best friend, and I told her as a test to see if the information she was receiving through Automatic Writing was true, but that’s another story.

In my next Metaphysical story, I’ll share my experiences with Automatic Writing, and what my friend experienced with it too. Also, a big welcome and thank you to my followers for joining me on my adventure. Bye for now.