Saturday, February 21, 2009

Phone Calls from the Dead

Phone Calls from the Dead

My father, God bless him, passed away in April of 1986. My siblings and I were all lucky enough to be adults by the time this happened, but you never really outgrow your parents, do you? My oldest brother had an interesting relationship with our father, something that ranged from amicable to volatile with stops in between. Nevertheless, my father's death was very hard on my brother. Likewise, I know my father always worried about my older brother.

I suppose none of us were totally surprised when my brother, starting a new job some time after my dad passed away, came to work and was handed a message slip from the switchboard: "Your father called." My brother reread the message a few times, then went to the operator and asked her about it. She told him the call came in a few minutes earlier, and that the caller simply said, "Just tell him his father called."

Of course, the first person he talked to about this was my mother. My mother, practical as always, just asked "Are you about to do something stupid?"

The story is kind of a joke within my family because it underscores the relationship between my brother and my father. On the other hand, it also brings up one of my favorite kinds of ghost stories, and that is the phone call from beyond the grave. Have you heard descriptions of this phenomena? About the phone that rings, but there is something quiet or shortened about the ring? About the caller's voice itself, and how it can sound far away or faint, although unmistakable? Or how about the static that fills the line, and then the abrupt end to the call, usually with a heavy silence?

This is the one kind of story that is deficient in my collection. Anyone got one to share?

Friday, February 13, 2009

Won't you come and haunt my blog?

Dry, brittle leaves skittering across the sidewalks, torn and scattered by a cool October wind. Full moon trapped in bare branches that twist in anguish against a night sky. Iron-gated cemetery filled with shadows upon shadows and only an occasional glimpse of a softly glowing tombstone. Footsteps in the night, creaking doors, and a swift, silent movement caught only by the corner of the eye.

If goosebumps, prickling at the back of your neck, and a decided uneasiness at entering a dark room appeal to you, you're in the right place! Welcome to Ubiquitous Ghosts, a blog devoted to the paranormal, the strange, the unexplained, and writing about all of them.

You see, I write ghost stories. I collect ghost stories. Heck, I've lived ghost stories. I grew up in a haunted house, an experience –or should I say a collection of experiences?– that definitely changed my outlook on life and provided me with a permanent interest in that twilight area beyond the grave.

I've read other blogs about the supernatural, from skinwalkers to ghosts, from monsters to psychic experiences, and now it's time for me to jump into the arena and tell a tale or two of my own. Maybe you've got a story you'd like to share? I'd love to hear it. Then we can revel in glancing over our shoulders and turning on lights against the darkness because, after all, ghosts are indeed ubiquitous.