Ghosts Are Real (3 of 4) written by Stan Phillips
Often when we hear tales of ghosts from someone we do not know we have to wonder if the stories they share actually happened. However, if we can rely on the credentials of the storyteller the tales can come alive for us.
For this segment, I rely on the words of a very strong and honorable man. He is not one for fairytales…nor is he afraid of mere mortals, or needs approval of any kind. In fact, as he recounted his tale, he found amusement over what they confronted in a quaint old French Quarter hotel room.
Thinking about how he told the story, his enjoyment may have been due to the recalling of the spirits’ playful and yet potentially damaging display.
During a recent vacation in the French Quarter the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans, my friend and a relative of mine stayed at a historic hotel. Even though the room was small, there was enough room. That is until they realized they were actually sharing the room with others.
From the moment they stepped into their room, they felt an eerie sensation as if they were not alone. Worse yet, they believed they were being watched by someone, or something within the room.
To quiet my niece’s fears, my friend began a search. He looked under the bed, behind the mirrors, and in every corner. He found nothing. Then the feeling of some presence being there with them began to grow. There was also a chill in the room. As they moved about, the chill followed them. Even when they moved to stand in the opposite sides of the room, the chill was there. To some it might conjure up the thought there was more than one entity in the room with them.
Of course, some could easily dispute the thought by just thinking the room was drafty. However, that was not case. The air in the room was still. Moreover, a blast of warm air greeted them when they first opened the door and entered the hotel room.
In time they laughed, believing it was only their overactive imagination. Why not, they thought. They were in the land of spells, incantations, surrounded by beliefs of old New Orleans-just a place where the imagination could run wild.
There had been no physical touch, or sounds to startle them-only a room with numerous cold spots they believed. All else was just their mind playing tricks. At least that was what they thought before they returned after an evening of festivities and slipped under the covers to fall asleep.
After arriving in their room, they barely stayed awake long enough to dress for bed. It was early in the morning. The sun had not come up yet, and they just wanted to catch a little sleep before the new day began. However, that was far less than what they were about to experience. No sooner had they almost fallen asleep, they heard the splat of water dripping onto the bathroom floor.
My friend got up from the bed and dragged himself into the bathroom. He soon stared down to the sink basin in disbelief. A shower towel was blocking the drain. The cold water faucet was on. The water was overflowing the basin and streaming onto the floor.
To this point, there was not much of a puddle on the floor. It was as if the faucet had been just been turned on, and the towel just inserted, the situation just developing. My friend wasted no time in removing the towel and turning off the faucet.
After drying up the floor, my friend made certain that both faucet knobs were securely off before returning to bed.
Not more than a moment after his head hit the pillow he once again heard the sound of water dripping onto the bathroom floor. The water was once again flowing over the sides of sink basin. This time it was hot water. A towel was again in the drain hole.
You can form any explanation for this occurrence you like. As for my friend, he believed that they had guests that wanted them to leave. Maybe the guests wanted to be alone on their own romantic rendezvous. In any case, after he dried the floor my friend returned to bed for what turned out to be a restless night.
As strange as it might sound, someone from another time, or some departed soul might be watching us. Then again, we could also from time to time catch a moment from some time in the past.
With moments caught on time, the spirit can awaken to allow the reviewing of events. Worlds then merge, as moments become one.
Part 3A – will follow in the next few days.
I must apologize about the long period between posts. I had devoted most of my final touches on my new novel “The Goat, the Babe, and the Maroons.” The novels deals with three sports curses, and how they were or can be broken.