An Unseen Resident – A Rebuttal

A person came to me today who had read my blogs about my house and proceeded to question my honesty, integrity, intelligence, and even my heritage. His questions centered on how could I be so stupid to stay in this house, unless, of course, the whole story is a lie. If he had the nerve to say these things – in very colorful language – to my face, I’m sure there are others out there who have read the blog that feel the same, more or less. So let me address this head on.

Let’s go back to when I was looking for a house to buy to put this in perspective. One of my sisters, Janice, had suddenly found herself without a home. I was crushed by her misfortune and had to do something – I love my sisters deeply! My home at that time was too small to have her move in with me, but I had just been promoted (woohooo!) and finally had the means to buy a new place. One of the first houses that my Realtor (Dawn Thomas – you rock, girl) and I found was a horrible house that is the basis for The House of Homicide. I’ve mentioned several times that I have little or no extra-sensory perception, but when I walked into that house, there was no denying the bad mojo. It scared the hell out of me. I knew that Janice was a sensitive, so buying a haunted house was out of the question. I remember that my hands were shaking when Dawn and I got back to her car. The hair still stands up on my arms when I think about that place! Nope, definitely not the house for me!

The search for just the right place went on for months before I saw a house pop up on the web that sounded fairly good – not great, just okay. It was listed as having only one bathroom, which was a huge negative on my scale. But something drew me in. I took a break and dashed over to see the house. When I pulled up in front, my breath was taken away. Not that it’s beautiful – it isn’t. Not that it’s spacious or grand – it’s not. It just felt right. I called Dawn in excitement that bordered on panic to arrange a walk-through. I wasn’t just pulled into that house, I was yanked in. And once I was inside the house, I knew without a doubt that this was the house for us. Janice never got to see the house before the sale was complete, and her reaction to the house was nowhere near as positive as mine was. She sensed that something was wrong, especially with the workshop in the backyard.

As strange things happened over the next five years, I either ignored them or found rational explanations for them. I totally understand that people who cannot sense the paranormal (and even some who can) may have a reluctance to believe in it, and that belief can vary in depth from absolute denial to simply holding reservations. I was one of those somewhere in the middle, leaning towards total skepticism. But when there was no longer any way for me to deny what was happening, I started looking for a new place. Two problems blocked the way. First, I was told that selling the house will be quite difficult because I need to disclose that it is haunted. The second problem was that I haven’t been able to find another house that fits our needs within my price range. We have looked and looked and looked. I have been in virtually every house for sale in the geographic area we need, and nothing fits or even comes close enough that we could make do.

Then comes my love for the house. Yes, I still love it. I spoke in one of the previous blogs about the Native American protector that Mariah channeled. He said that he wanted us in the house because of our positive and strong energy – that we are exactly what this house and land needs. As stupid as I may sound, I believe that. I feel it.

In the end, it comes down to not moving for financial reasons, a love of the house itself, being unable to find something else suitable, and a deep desire to save the house. In response to this jerk’s other accusations to me: I may now be an orphan, but I do know who my parents were, and yes, they were married when I was conceived. The blogs about the house are true, and even though I am a writer and love to make stories up, the events in the house are scary enough without having to embellish. No, I’m not an idiot, but damn I wish I had a snappy comeback for that.