Ghost of a Chance
Greg and I are still house hunting. We're not looking for just any house. We're looking for the last house, the one before the grave.
We thought we found it--twice.
We gave up on the first house because we weren't ready to move. And I was hesitant to move to a place so far from a major city.
The second house was closer to Dallas, but it was pricey, especially considering we needed to add another 50k in buildings, fence and ponds. But it was and is the nicest house we've come across. It's still on the table for consideration.
Since we haven't sold ours yet, we prefer to wait before making a serious offer.
There's a third listing that interested us recently. Two huge ponds, a workshop, heavily treed and enough pasture for a few goats. 30 acres of heaven. The house is older than we'd like but it seemed cute in the pictures. We plan to see it next week when Greg, me and the realtor are all in town at the same time.
Meanwhile, the first thing we did was map it on Live Search to see a live aerial view. It was gorgeous--exactly what we were looking for. It nearly butted up to the end of the road except for a small plot of land that didn't go with the 30 acres.
The map wouldn't let me magnify it enough to make out the funny squares dividing the plat evenly on the next door neighbor's property. It wasn't until we actually visited the listing on our own that we discovered that the uniformly spaced squares were actually gravesites.
Yup. Our neighbor at the end of the road would be a cemetery.
Shakes head.
Some of you may remember that I have a talent for seeing the dearly departed. And now I find a nearly perfect property next to a cemetery. Does God have a sense of humor or what?
I did a little research. It's an old country cemetery. And no one's been buried there for more than 20 years. There are a few Confederate soldiers and their families buried there and there are still plenty of gravesites available. Someone has been taking very nice care of it because the grounds are neat and well tended.
I didn't feel any spiritual presences while I was there, but then I didn't wander onto the sale property since our realtor wasn't with us. You can bet I will be walking the fence line and feeling for any disturbance in the force. *g*
And when the realtor asks Greg what I'm doing, he'll smile kindly and say: She's listening for the neighbors.
***
It's not the Day of the Dead yet, but I'll tell you a ghost story anyway.
30-odd years ago we lived in an old sea captain's house in Port Arthur, built in 1901. Great house. The man we bought it from was only the second owner.
We were very young and grateful for a chance to buy a house so early in life. We bought it with every penny we could scrape together.
I could feel a presence in that house, but I never did see anyone. It felt like an older woman, and I learned later the previous owner's wife had died there.
One day, I was racing down the stairs and I slipped. I SWEAR to you, someone reached out and pushed me back so I didn't crash headfirst. I can still feel the hand against my chest when I think of that story.
I'd like to think it was that little old lady. I think she enjoyed having young people in her house. And I'm glad she was there to save me from serious injury. If my lifetime of cuts and bruises are any testament, I need all the help I can get.
***
Anybody else got a ghost story to share?
We thought we found it--twice.
We gave up on the first house because we weren't ready to move. And I was hesitant to move to a place so far from a major city.
The second house was closer to Dallas, but it was pricey, especially considering we needed to add another 50k in buildings, fence and ponds. But it was and is the nicest house we've come across. It's still on the table for consideration.
Since we haven't sold ours yet, we prefer to wait before making a serious offer.
There's a third listing that interested us recently. Two huge ponds, a workshop, heavily treed and enough pasture for a few goats. 30 acres of heaven. The house is older than we'd like but it seemed cute in the pictures. We plan to see it next week when Greg, me and the realtor are all in town at the same time.
Meanwhile, the first thing we did was map it on Live Search to see a live aerial view. It was gorgeous--exactly what we were looking for. It nearly butted up to the end of the road except for a small plot of land that didn't go with the 30 acres.
The map wouldn't let me magnify it enough to make out the funny squares dividing the plat evenly on the next door neighbor's property. It wasn't until we actually visited the listing on our own that we discovered that the uniformly spaced squares were actually gravesites.
Yup. Our neighbor at the end of the road would be a cemetery.
Shakes head.
Some of you may remember that I have a talent for seeing the dearly departed. And now I find a nearly perfect property next to a cemetery. Does God have a sense of humor or what?
I did a little research. It's an old country cemetery. And no one's been buried there for more than 20 years. There are a few Confederate soldiers and their families buried there and there are still plenty of gravesites available. Someone has been taking very nice care of it because the grounds are neat and well tended.
I didn't feel any spiritual presences while I was there, but then I didn't wander onto the sale property since our realtor wasn't with us. You can bet I will be walking the fence line and feeling for any disturbance in the force. *g*
And when the realtor asks Greg what I'm doing, he'll smile kindly and say: She's listening for the neighbors.
***
It's not the Day of the Dead yet, but I'll tell you a ghost story anyway.
30-odd years ago we lived in an old sea captain's house in Port Arthur, built in 1901. Great house. The man we bought it from was only the second owner.
We were very young and grateful for a chance to buy a house so early in life. We bought it with every penny we could scrape together.
I could feel a presence in that house, but I never did see anyone. It felt like an older woman, and I learned later the previous owner's wife had died there.
One day, I was racing down the stairs and I slipped. I SWEAR to you, someone reached out and pushed me back so I didn't crash headfirst. I can still feel the hand against my chest when I think of that story.
I'd like to think it was that little old lady. I think she enjoyed having young people in her house. And I'm glad she was there to save me from serious injury. If my lifetime of cuts and bruises are any testament, I need all the help I can get.
***
Anybody else got a ghost story to share?
Comments
You should come out here. My DH swears 90% of the homes here are haunted. Too much history and wars and stuff in the NE. Brrr....
Lots of really cool cemetaries, though. He doesn't understand my fascination with them. He gets the heebie jeebies really, really easily.
Poor hubs.