The disembodied voice of a small child laughs in a house where no children ever play. An unplugged organ emits a single, sustained chord in the middle of the night. A muddy footprint appears to pass through the middle of the hallway, passing out of one wall and vanishing into the next. Tiny handprints suddenly manifest all over the passenger window during a cold, Autumn evening. The sound of quickening footsteps give chase over a wooden bridge, only to stop halfway across. A rhythmic tap-tap-tapping repeatedly clicks on a full-length closet mirror, which only stops several days later when the cats finally take it upon themselves to break the glass. (Goodbye, security deposit.) Scratches appear on my then-girlfriend's back while she is in the shower. A locked-from-the-outside basement door handle begins to rattle at 3am, accompanied by a loud knocking, as though something trapped down below desperately wants to get out.
These phenomena sound like creations of fantasy—at best, the products of an overactive imagination, at worst, the misfired neural detritus of a delusional mind. It is easy to understand why I don’t often speak of these things, given my family's well-documented history of mental illness.
I assure you, the occurrences mentioned are no mere conjuring of imagination. I, Christopher A. Graves, do firmly attest that I personally witnessed each one of these phenomena in a clear minded, wide awake, definitely non drug induced state of absolute, assured lucidity.
With those events in the back of my mind, several years ago I created a Facebook group called Shady Hollow. It was originally intended to be an online gathering place for people to discuss all things paranormal―or at the very least, unexplained and mysterious―in an open, supportive environment. It didn’t really take off the way I hoped. Instead, it became a dumping ground for spooky memes and online articles. I still have hope it will someday take off the way I always imagined, but it typically only peaks around Halloween, when most members (and its creator) suddenly remember it even exists.
A short time before her death in January of 2010, my sister confided something in me that was quite surprising at the time, because it was something she had never spoken of before. All of her life, she always kept a special chair in her room. At night, the spirit of an old Native American (a chief, presumably) would come into her room and sit in the chair. That’s it. He just sat in the chair, every night, for years and years and years while I snored blissfully away in the next room, and I never once heard about it. Uncharacteristically for me, I didn’t follow through with any additional questions, and my curiosity has not stopped bugging me for years wondering what it all meant. Regrettably, I no longer have a chance to ask her about it.
Eventually, I realized I’m not supposed to know. It wasn’t my experience―it was hers. But it did serve to assure me that my own occurrences were nothing to feel any shame or embarrassment about.
Since then, many of the folks I’ve met in my worldly travels have shared similar tales of the unexplained. Often, they worry they’ll be considered nuts, or simply not taken seriously. I usually invite them to Shady Hollow, where I hope they’ll share their tales. For most people, however, it is intimidating to share in front of a large group. As someone who writes, often baring my own thoughts and feelings before a large audience, I completely understand that mentality.
As we approach the time of year when the veil between realms is supposedly at its thinnest, it is of interest to be aware of many of the wonders, mysteries, and phenomena that surround us in this vast, unexplained Universe.
That tapping you hear? It might simply be your cat chasing a wayward bug up the mirror. Or, just perhaps, it may be something else altogether, desperately trying to get your attention...
