My MoH, Ashley, kindly pointed out to me that I did not include the scariest part of the bachelorette trip in my previous post. The scary part was not the male strippers, the cracked-out woman pushing her dog around in a stroller, swimming with sharks, or the old man who acted very much like a zombie and kept showing up near our house. The scary part was an honest-to-god encounter with a ghostly presence in our cottage.
Friday night (or Saturday morning), around 4am, Ashley and I laid down to finally get some rest. I had just closed my eyes when I heard a very long, very loud exhale just inches from my face. We both assumed it was the other, then quickly realized it could not have been either one of us, as we weren’t yet asleep and were both barely breathing. I was ready to run for my life and join Alison and Julia in the other cabin. Ashley attempted to be the level headed one and urged me to stay, so we could figure out where the noise was coming from. We stayed there, completely still, and waited. Other noises drifted in and out–a car passing by outside, people walking around, etc. Every so often we would again hear the sound of someone breathing–unlike the other noises, this one was directly next to our ears, whereas everything else was obviously coming from some distance away. I repeatedly stated my intentions to jump ship and run next door, but Ashley again tried to be the voice of reason, asserting that it must simply be a “residual” and we would not be harmed. I, on the other hand, had seen way too many episodes of Supernatural to know it could not end well for us. At any moment I was ready to spring into action, make a salt ring, and find something made of iron to fight off the demons.
Don’t get me wrong, this girl love ghost stories. Every time I visit a new town, the first thing I want to do is take a ghost tour, and I LOVE books and movies that are all about the supernatural. However, I’ve always bravely read/watched these stories because I’ve never actually seen a ghost, and at this point in my life I had simply told myself that maybe I wasn’t prone to paranormal activity. At a previous job, I worked the night shift in a very, very old house that was allegedly haunted. I was the only person in the house at night, and I worked there for two months, and never experienced so much as a drop in temperature. Experiencing a ghostly presence was definitely not the adventure I thought it would be–guess it’s time to rethink my dream career of being a ghost hunter.
Just when I was ready to really panic, my friends Julia and Katie arrived home (they stayed out a little later). That caused a momentary distraction/relief, although I unfortunately had to open the door for them, thus exposing myself to the stereotypical under-the-bed foot grab. However, their comforting presence died down when they went upstairs, and Ashley and I were left alone, once again, with Heavy Breather McGee.
I like to think that Sam and Dean Winchester secretly arrived and ganked the ghost, but Ashley said she heard the noise many times throughout the night. Somehow, we both survived and made it to the dawn. Ashley helped take my mind of things by first telling me the story of Laura Ingalls Wilder, followed by the tale of Felicity, an American Girl. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep (although I think we may have left a lamp on). This is why Ashley is my best friend and Maid of Honor. I know I can count on her to calmly and rationally explain the presence of a spirit, and keep me from doing anything rash, such as calling the cottage’s emergency number, asking the owner where she keeps her supply of rock salt, and if there happen to be any restless spirits buried on the property.
|We will have no ghost nonsense going on here!|
I still refuse to dig deeper into the history of the place where we stayed, to see if there are any stories. I would rather not know. Instead, I will take my one encounter with a ghost, and hope that it never happens again.