Ghost stories, folk tales and legends, myths, fact & fiction are deeply entwined in the cultures, a gumbo of ethnic roots, of Louisiana, especially south La. My husband grew up in Eunice, La. a born and bred cajun, whose Mama Bea would use the "Loup Garou" or in some areas "rougarou" to instill good behavior in her grandsons. I delighted in stories my parents would tell us, many involving local legends, such as the Union General, killed with his regement at the Battle of Port Hudson, whose ghost rode his horse across the wooden bridge, and Old Man Shelmire, whose footsteps were heard nightly as he climbed up the stairs to bed in my uncle's house.
My mother instilled the fear of God in us, raising us in the Christian faith, yet she held a strong fascination, and healthy respect, for the supernatural and paranormal, and shared that with us as well. I have very fond memories of curling up with Mama, and my sister, on the couch late at night watching Rod Serling's Night Gallery, or some spooky movie, when other kids my age were in bed. Mama loved suspense, and fright. Horror with gore, and gruesome scenes were not her taste. Rather than mundane bedtime stories like Goodnight Moon, or Mother Goose, my sister and I enjoyed readings from Grimm's Fairy Tales, and Homer's The Odyssey. I am sure my mother's choices for children's literature would meet with great disapproval by todays standards, but I am pretty sure I was the only third grader with a keen knowledge of Greek Mythology, and a ouija board. Thanks to my mother, I have always believed in spirits, guardian angels, as well as demons, and evil entities.
All that being said, I find it very appropriate that three most important people in my life, all died in my house. I live in the house I grew up in, and my mother passed away in the bedroom where I sleep, ten years ago. My father breathed his last in the very back bedroom which is now the computer/junk room, five years ago this month. My beloved husband sat down on our living room couch one April afternoon last year, and died very unexpectedly at the age of 48.
When I tell people that all three died in my house, the usual response is negative. For some reason, the majority has as aversion to death, and a fear of the paranormal. Ghosts, spirits, and the things that go bump in the night are not always evil, or demonic. Sure, I firmly believe in evil spirits, and demons, and have no doubt they can easily be let in by unsuspecting idiots who dabble in the occult, or unknowlingly open themselves through parlor games with ouija boards, or seances. In my house I know nothing but peace, and sense of total security, and the knowledge that I have three guardian angels gives me great comfort. Quite honestly I feel sorry for any demon that tries to invade my sanctuary. I won't tolerate that crap, and catch me in the right mood, evil is no match for my bitch powers. Reading this I'm sure you are convinced I'm slap raving nuts, but others have experienced paranormal activity in my house. Ask my dear friend Melissa about getting slapped on the butt in my kitchen, or my cousin about seeing someone move across the hallway when we were the only two people there. My experiences have really increased since Moe, my husband , died last year, and I've been told by friends who are sensitive to such things that there is a spiritual presence that surrounds me. I've heard my name called, I've had furniture moved, my shirt tugged on, my hair touched, and the most recent encounter was just last night.
I didn't settle down to sleep until midnight, and I was restless, in and out of a light sleep. Each time I'd rouse from my fitfull rest, I kept hearing music playing very, very faintly, as though a radio or TV had been left on in a remote part of the house. At some point in the wee hours before the alarm, very soft, raspy, voice said "she can hear" right beside my bed. The voice woke me up, and I have to admit I was wide awake when my bed moved like someone had sat down, or laid across the foot of it. The cats even looked up like they were seeing someone, and Freckles gave a soft chuff, and rolled over as if inviting this spector to rub his belly. Oddly enough, I was startled but unafraid, and I dozed off immediately and enjoyed peaceful, uninterrupted sleep until the alarm clock went off at 5:30AM. 5:30am alarm....now THAT is evil from the pits of Hell!!!
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