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An Old Presence by Annalee Blysse. A few years ago strange things started happening in my apartment. At first I tried to rationalize things away. But it scared me that my bed was a hot spot of activity. Scared was the operative word. Unfortunately nothing happened that can lend itself to the sensual side of my writing career. One night I was lying on my back trying to go to
sleep and the top blanket on my bed slid down my body, up and over my
feet, and onto the floor at the foot of my bed. The rest of the bedding
was undisturbed. I was wide awake, watching this happen. It was spooky
to say the least.
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THE FLOOR
ABOVE
by Cheryl Quinlan I’ve always been able to feel and sense and yes
sometimes see things others can’t; a sort of sixth sense and I’ve always
been just a little afraid. I used to do a lot of business travel and on
one of my trips I was scheduled to go to Douglas, Arizona. I opted to
stay in a grand old newly renovated hotel in the middle of town. The
lobby was exquisite with high ceilings, chandeliers and velvet
gold-gilded turn of the century furniture. I remember the old-style
switchboard and the many plugs and wires needed to transfer calls to
each room; I remember insisting I get a room with a view and the
argument the desk clerk tried to give me; I remember the puzzled look of
the elevator operator when I told him I wanted the third floor and I
remember the room. It was directly at the end of the hallway. It took
me about four trips to unload my vehicle what with the training
materials and all before I finally settled down and took a look at my
surroundings. The room was stark in contrast to the ornate lobby and
elevator.
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The Night I Foiled Ted Bundy By Becky Colebank Have you ever had a gut feeling so strong that you couldn’t ignore it? That you just knew your future hinged on whether or not you obeyed that instinct? I have, and I’m probably alive today because I listened to it. In the ‘70s I was in the Navy Hospital Corps stationed at the Brooklyn Navy Yard in the tattered and raveled section of Bedford-Stuyvesant. Although we were given strict orders at that time never to walk the streets near the Navy Yard, it was against my small-town Minnesota principles to call a taxi or base transportation every time I wanted to go somewhere. I was indestructible, after all. I was 21, pretty, adventurous, and my legs were strong. I never stayed home at night. I wanted to meet the whole city of New York before I left, and I was only halfway there the night I met Ted Bundy. Where’s the rest?
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The Harbinger
by Mary Stella. My only true
ghost story isn't all that scary. Perhaps that alone should
frighten me. *g* Almost 30 years ago, I stayed over at a friend's
house after we'd gone out partying. The next morning, I woke up
shortly before the alarm sounded and rolled over to wake my friend.
A man was sitting on the floor by her head. Dressed in a
loosely-tucked in white shirt, khaki pants and loafers without socks, he
was busily cutting the story and picture of a plane crash out of the
newspaper.
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