Real-life ghost stories from Southwest Georgia

ALBANY — Many of us have had experiences we just can’t explain, things that make us wonder whether a supernatural realm — a place simultaneously distant and near, physical and ethereal — exists.

And if it does, did we, for even an instant, brush against it?

It’s the creepy and creaky sounds of the night, more prominent in disturbing the stillness; the catching of a glimpse of something in the corner of your eye; the chill on your neck when you just seem to sense that something … somebody … is there.

Halloween has long been a time that has brought thoughts of those types of experiences to mind. Was it real or imagined? Was it the product of an overactive imagination? Was it caused by your brain waking itself up, still caught in that region between asleep and awake? Or was it an otherworldly spirit trying to make contact?

For the past few weeks, we asked readers of The Albany Herald and albanyherald.com to share their own ghost stories. Scott Hall and Jane McDonald told us about their respective experiences with the unexplained. So get by a reading lamp, dim the rest of the lights and read a couple of original spooky tales in their own words. If you’re brave enough, try doing it alone.

Just don’t be surprised if something … somebody … is unexpectedly reading over your shoulder …

THE OLD WOMAN IN

THE KITCHEN

Scott Hall

I don’t believe in ghosts, which makes me wonder now, years later, if it really happened or if it was just a dream.

I was young, I don’t think I could even read yet, and it was very late one night. I had awoken from sleep and I just laid there listening to the calm and silence.

I thought that it might be a good idea to go down to the kitchen and thumb through a book that I knew was left lying on the table. My mother had brought “Where the Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak home, and my brothers and I had looked through it many times.

We had a florescent light that burned constantly in the kitchen and, as I crept ever so quietly down the hall, I spotted the book, just where we had left it. In the dead of the night all by myself, I climbed up on the bar and began turning the pages.

I’m not sure how much time passed.

The single light created many shadows in the room, and I had not seen nor heard anyone else stirring.

To my left, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned slowly to see an apparition just seem to materialize and drift from the darkness. Out of the hallway it came, across the living room and around the very bar on which I sat, paralyzed.

I can only describe it as an old woman with no details in her face. What I do recall is the pale blue and red hair curlers that covered her head, and a faded blue and white robe that she wore.

I didn’t watch to see where she went. After she passed, I slid off the bar and down the hall and went back to my bed.

I only ever told my brother about the incident, and it sort of became an urban legend as he and I both would make up stories about the ghost woman with curlers in her hair being spotted in various rooms in the house.

Now, many years later, I think it must have been a dream. But, even now, when I see the book “Where the Wild Things Are,” I get a very real chill down my spine.

THE SCRAPING

BEDROOM DOOR

Jane McDonald

In 1987, I was a carefree, single teacher living at Westwood Apartments here in Albany. My good friend and fellow teacher Marsha was my roommate.

One night, I went to bed as usual, said my prayers and settled into my favorite sleeping position. I always spread out in the middle of my bed on my stomach with my face turned to the left facing the wall. It was not long before I was in a deep sleep.

At some point in the night, I woke up, still in this position. It was at that moment I heard my bedroom door scrape across the carpet as it opened. I froze, but could feel all my senses go on high alert. Someone stepped in and in a sing-song male voice said, “Oh, Jane, oh, ed-u-ca-tor, oh, Jaaane.”

All I could do was stay perfectly still while I looked at the wall. I was terrified, and my heart was pounding like a jackhammer. It only took a few steps to reach my bed, so in seconds I felt the edge of my bed sink as someone sat down. I closed my eyes as I felt this intruder lean over me and place his left arm on the other side of my body to brace himself as he looked at my face. With this movement I felt his body press against my right hip.

I did not move and tried to control my breathing while I tried to figure out what to do. I ended up telling myself it was stupid for me to lie in my bed with some stranger sitting there. So I mentally counted to three. When I hit three, I rose up and flipped around with all the fury I could muster and looked at — nothing.

I turned on my lamp.

Nothing.

There was no one there. My bedroom door was still closed, just as I had left it.

For hours, I sat awake in my bed with the lamp on until I saw the first morning light through my window. Just as when I was a child, I finally felt safe enough to sleep.

When I got up, I told Marsha all about my strange experience. Then I tried to file it away under one of these headings: It Was a Dream, It Was Your Imagination or You’re Crazy, and went on with my day.

That night, we went down to our friends’ apartment to watch a movie. Before the movie started, one of the girls wanted to tell us what happened to her early that morning.

She had been asleep when she felt someone lean down over her with their arms pushing down on the bed, but when she opened her eyes no one was there.

I felt my eyes get big and I looked at Marsha, whose eyes were equally big. Then I shared my own experience.

That night two scaredy cats named Jane and Marsha slept in the living room — with the lights and TV on all night.

IF YOU MISSED your chance to send in your own unexplained experience, we’re hoping to run more original ghost stories next October. Write it down while it’s fresh in your mind and send it to [email protected]. We’ll save it in our Dead Letters Basket and bring it back to life in 2016.