—Postscript—
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
The TV room had an old mirror hanging on the wall that my mother had picked up on one of her
antique hunts. It was a very nice looking mirror, went well with the rest of the furnishings in
the home. During the time I was sleeping in the TV room, I had been hearing little
noises on and off, but nothing that I considered scary enough to run me out at that point. As you
know, there had been a history of happenings in that room, but I had been sheltered.
One thing that happened in the room that would continue over the following years until we moved,
involved that old mirror. One evening, I was watching television and something caught my
attention. I thought I saw movement, just figured it was something passing by the open door that
was next to it. I focused back on watching television, when again I thought I saw movement. I
stood up and looked out the door, my parents were both no where to be seen, so I went back into the
room and sat down. I started to focus more on the door than I did the program I was watching when
the movement happened again, this time I noticed it wasn’t coming from the door, but the mirror. I
turned off the television and went over to the mirror. I stood there looking in the mirror, when
slowly a change started to take place. As I looked into the mirror, my eyes slowly
started to change shape and color. I have hazel eyes and as I stared into the mirror, they started
to change a deep blue. As the color changed, so did the shape.
It seemed as though I lost track of time, I just kept looking in the mirror. Before long, it was as
though I wasn’t looking at myself anymore, I couldn’t make out a face, only eyes that weren’t mine.
This didn’t settle with me all that well, but I couldn’t help but watch. Soon, the eyes seemed to
become angry. I was getting more and more scared as I stared into the eyes, it really felt as
though something were trying to communicate with me through that old mirror.
It made me very nervous, so I turned away from the mirror and when I looked back
again, the reflection was my own. The mirror would do this several more times over the following
years, always making me too nervous to look for any great amount of time. After we
moved, the mirror visits ended. I was able to look into the mirror and never again
see the eyes that weren’t mine. Not really sure what was happening, but I am sure that something
was trying to communicate. To this day, I remember those eyes, so cold and wicked.
Recent Events
Follow Up #1
Was called yesterday morning concerning the old house. My aunt who lives up the hill from it was
contacted by one of the current owners, she was very upset. It seems that over the last couple of
weeks, things have been happening in the home that they have never witnessed. The first thing
that happened was that a demonic looking young woman appeared in their room and told them
to get out of “her” house. About a week later, the wife fell asleep on a down stairs couch while
the husband was asleep upstairs. He came down and asked when she came downstairs. She told him she
had been down there the entire time. He said that wasn’t possible, he had woke up several times
because she was asleep lying across the foot of the bed and he couldn’t get comfortable. One other
thing that has happened is they have been hearing voices in one of the rooms, our old TV room. That
doesn’t surprise me at all. They are now very nervous and are thinking of bringing in a
professional of some sort to check out the home.
My aunt still has told them nothing about what she knows of the home, per their request. I am
positive the spirit in the home is that of the girl from my room. They are currently using my
parent’s old bedroom as theirs. They tried to use my room for a while, but were never comfortable
in there.
So far, my research keeps hitting dead ends. I still need to get to our state capital to visit the
historical society, so that I can read old newspapers from the small town. I have read several
books concerning the county and the small town the home sat outside of, but no mention of the James
family. It has been frustrating, but I will find something. I haven’t taken the pictures I need to
yet, went out past the old home the other night and got a very bad feeling, so I quickly took off.
A buddy of mine is in town for the week and said he would like to go down there with me to do the
photographs. He is the one that had the lights appear before him in the driveway, he knows all
about the place. He wants to see if it scares him as an adult, as much as it did down there when we
were young.
Generations
Ever since I began to sit down and write the story of the home, my life had become
strange even by my standards. My son, who was age three and a half at the time, had
started to speak of the man more frequently. The man he was seeing I could not, and this concerned
me. He said the man would tell him things. Once while in the living room, he asked me who the man
with the gun was at the door. I jumped from my desk to see who it was, no one was there. He
has spoken of the man many times, saying he is over us, looking down and watching.
My son has always said unusual things, things that seem well beyond his years. Some have
referred to children like him as an “Indigo child.” All I know is that he seems to be able
to see things I cannot and also appears to have knowledge of events and phrases that we
have never spoken to him about.
As his visions increased, so had mine. A door apparently had been opened by the photo I had looked
at so many months ago of the home and the home I am currently living in was becoming more and more
active. My wife was starting to lose sleep at night from events that were happening and I really
was hoping to put an end to all of this. I decided that in order to put all of this to rest,
perhaps I should take my son along to some of the things I had felt I was supposed to do. I figured
if spirits were making themselves known to him, then he too was involved and would benefit from the
journey I knew I must take.
It was close to Christmas 2005 and I decided it was finally time to go down and take
some of the pictures I was supposed to take of the old home and the areas around it. I had been
putting it off because I felt things were just too negative down there, but with
Christmas bringing up the positive energy, I figured it was time to get started. I knew the
cemetery was high on the list of places I had to go, and having felt the cemetery as being a
comfort in the past, I thought it would do no harm to take my son with me. My
grandmother, my son’s great grandmother is buried there, so if nothing else, I thought we would be
able to visit her grave. I waited for a warm day and telling my son nothing, we headed down to the
small town and all that awaited us.
I had never taken my son to a cemetery. He knew what it was just from seeing them and asking about
them in the past, but he never was informed about what actually happens in one. As we pulled in, I
explained to him that we were there to take some photos of graves and to visit where his great
grandmother was buried. It had been sometime since I had been there and the place had changed. I
knew exactly where Ephraim’s grave was, and headed to it immediately. I said nothing of the grave
to my son; I just waited to watch his reactions during the time we were there. I started taking
many photos of the gravestone and cemetery, while doing so, my son would look at gravestones and
play with sticks that were on the ground. I was surprised that he showed no emotion towards
Ephraim’s grave, I really thought perhaps it would show something to him as it had to me in the
past. He did ask what the gravestone said on it and I read it to him, “Since thou canst no longer
stay to cheer us with thy love, We hope to meet with you again in your bright world
above.” I took a couple of dozen photos of the gravestone and cemetery, then decided it was time to
visit my grand mother’s grave.
We started to look for it, I used to know exactly where it was. We looked and looked for it. I had
visited it many times in the past but was not able to find it. I couldn’t understand what in the
hell was wrong with me, I could find someone’s grave I have never met, yet couldn’t find the grave
of one of the people that meant more to me in life than most that are currently living. I kept
searching and searching and while searching something happened that I expected, just not
involving the people I had imagined.
We had been looking for my grandmother’s grave for about forty five minutes when it happened.
My son started to yell at me, “Who are these people? This one is cool, who are they?” I thought
little of it, it was in the area of the cemetery where the newer flat gravestones
are. I told him I would be there in a minute; I was still looking for my
grandmother at that time. I put him off for a few moments and then again, “Dad, who are these
people?” I gave up for a moment and walked over to see who he was asking about. I walked up to the
marker and looked down, the name Blankenship staring me in the face. To touch on the past, the
Blankenship’s are the ones who I had originally always thought were the purchasers of the home from
Ephraim. They had lived in and passed the home down for seven decades. There are very few
Blankenships buried in that cemetery, they have their own family cemetery located in a field, out
in the country. These just weren’t any Blankenships, these were the last owners of the house. This
is the same Blankenship whose dog would stand on his grave daily until it had to be
chained up and died of starvation. I had never been drawn to this gravestone, but my son was
and apparently it was making quite an impression on him.
I sat down and asked him why he liked it so much. He told me they seemed nice and the gravestone
was really cool. It wasn’t cool by any means, just one of those flat slabs with a name on it, yet
here we were, standing there looking at it out of all the hundreds in the cemetery. I explained to
my son who they were, told him they owned the home that the man in the other gravestone built. All
very deep topics for a child not even the age of four, but he seemed to take it all in and we
sat there for a few moments and continued on.
We looked another thirty minutes or so for my grandmother’s grave and just could not find it.
Nothing looked familiar in that part of the cemetery and I was feeling terrible about
it. I exclaimed aloud that I was sorry I couldn’t find her grave, but that I loved her none the
less. I went over and put a coin in Ephraim’s gravestone as I had always done and loaded my son up
to leave the cemetery. As we were leaving, I noticed a sign hidden by overgrown bushes. I stopped
to see what it said, and it was a legend of the cemetery, telling where everyone had been buried. I
looked at it, found out where my grandmother was and took off over to her. I learned they had
removed the tree that she was buried under and taken out a road that was just to the side of
her, both items I had used to always locate her grave. I felt much better knowing I wasn’t
completely insane in not knowing where she was buried, showed her gravestone to my son and we left
coins in her flower holder as I always do.
My son and I then headed out to drive past the old home and take some pictures. The house
looks horrible. It is very overgrown, is a dreary white with multicolored trim and looks nearly as
bad as it did all those years ago when my parents first saw it. It looks sad,no wonder there is so much negative energy around it, I would be negative as well if
people let me run down like that. After taking pictures of the home, we headed up the hill to my
aunt and uncle’s home to visit with my uncle before heading back to the city. We visited a short
time and then took the long way back to the city, showing my son many of the places I used to go
when I had grown up down there. He enjoyed the drive and I did as well. I didn’t take him to places
I had really feared, I figured he had seen enough and I didn’t want to take him places I wasn’t
even looking forward to going.
In all I wasn’t surprised by what happened with him in the cemetery, just by whom it
involved. I really thought Ephraim’s gravestone would have called out to him as it did to me in
the past, but another of the home’s owners apparently had called out to my son. Not sure what to
make of all of it yet, but time will tell. All I knew was that I was really excited to get home and
look at the photos I had taken on the computer to see if they had revealed anything.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
The TV room had an old mirror hanging on the wall that my mother had picked up on one of her
antique hunts. It was a very nice looking mirror, went well with the rest of the furnishings in
the home. During the time I was sleeping in the TV room, I had been hearing little
noises on and off, but nothing that I considered scary enough to run me out at that point. As you
know, there had been a history of happenings in that room, but I had been sheltered.
One thing that happened in the room that would continue over the following years until we moved,
involved that old mirror. One evening, I was watching television and something caught my
attention. I thought I saw movement, just figured it was something passing by the open door that
was next to it. I focused back on watching television, when again I thought I saw movement. I
stood up and looked out the door, my parents were both no where to be seen, so I went back into the
room and sat down. I started to focus more on the door than I did the program I was watching when
the movement happened again, this time I noticed it wasn’t coming from the door, but the mirror. I
turned off the television and went over to the mirror. I stood there looking in the mirror, when
slowly a change started to take place. As I looked into the mirror, my eyes slowly
started to change shape and color. I have hazel eyes and as I stared into the mirror, they started
to change a deep blue. As the color changed, so did the shape.
It seemed as though I lost track of time, I just kept looking in the mirror. Before long, it was as
though I wasn’t looking at myself anymore, I couldn’t make out a face, only eyes that weren’t mine.
This didn’t settle with me all that well, but I couldn’t help but watch. Soon, the eyes seemed to
become angry. I was getting more and more scared as I stared into the eyes, it really felt as
though something were trying to communicate with me through that old mirror.
It made me very nervous, so I turned away from the mirror and when I looked back
again, the reflection was my own. The mirror would do this several more times over the following
years, always making me too nervous to look for any great amount of time. After we
moved, the mirror visits ended. I was able to look into the mirror and never again
see the eyes that weren’t mine. Not really sure what was happening, but I am sure that something
was trying to communicate. To this day, I remember those eyes, so cold and wicked.
Recent Events
Follow Up #1
Was called yesterday morning concerning the old house. My aunt who lives up the hill from it was
contacted by one of the current owners, she was very upset. It seems that over the last couple of
weeks, things have been happening in the home that they have never witnessed. The first thing
that happened was that a demonic looking young woman appeared in their room and told them
to get out of “her” house. About a week later, the wife fell asleep on a down stairs couch while
the husband was asleep upstairs. He came down and asked when she came downstairs. She told him she
had been down there the entire time. He said that wasn’t possible, he had woke up several times
because she was asleep lying across the foot of the bed and he couldn’t get comfortable. One other
thing that has happened is they have been hearing voices in one of the rooms, our old TV room. That
doesn’t surprise me at all. They are now very nervous and are thinking of bringing in a
professional of some sort to check out the home.
My aunt still has told them nothing about what she knows of the home, per their request. I am
positive the spirit in the home is that of the girl from my room. They are currently using my
parent’s old bedroom as theirs. They tried to use my room for a while, but were never comfortable
in there.
So far, my research keeps hitting dead ends. I still need to get to our state capital to visit the
historical society, so that I can read old newspapers from the small town. I have read several
books concerning the county and the small town the home sat outside of, but no mention of the James
family. It has been frustrating, but I will find something. I haven’t taken the pictures I need to
yet, went out past the old home the other night and got a very bad feeling, so I quickly took off.
A buddy of mine is in town for the week and said he would like to go down there with me to do the
photographs. He is the one that had the lights appear before him in the driveway, he knows all
about the place. He wants to see if it scares him as an adult, as much as it did down there when we
were young.
Generations
Ever since I began to sit down and write the story of the home, my life had become
strange even by my standards. My son, who was age three and a half at the time, had
started to speak of the man more frequently. The man he was seeing I could not, and this concerned
me. He said the man would tell him things. Once while in the living room, he asked me who the man
with the gun was at the door. I jumped from my desk to see who it was, no one was there. He
has spoken of the man many times, saying he is over us, looking down and watching.
My son has always said unusual things, things that seem well beyond his years. Some have
referred to children like him as an “Indigo child.” All I know is that he seems to be able
to see things I cannot and also appears to have knowledge of events and phrases that we
have never spoken to him about.
As his visions increased, so had mine. A door apparently had been opened by the photo I had looked
at so many months ago of the home and the home I am currently living in was becoming more and more
active. My wife was starting to lose sleep at night from events that were happening and I really
was hoping to put an end to all of this. I decided that in order to put all of this to rest,
perhaps I should take my son along to some of the things I had felt I was supposed to do. I figured
if spirits were making themselves known to him, then he too was involved and would benefit from the
journey I knew I must take.
It was close to Christmas 2005 and I decided it was finally time to go down and take
some of the pictures I was supposed to take of the old home and the areas around it. I had been
putting it off because I felt things were just too negative down there, but with
Christmas bringing up the positive energy, I figured it was time to get started. I knew the
cemetery was high on the list of places I had to go, and having felt the cemetery as being a
comfort in the past, I thought it would do no harm to take my son with me. My
grandmother, my son’s great grandmother is buried there, so if nothing else, I thought we would be
able to visit her grave. I waited for a warm day and telling my son nothing, we headed down to the
small town and all that awaited us.
I had never taken my son to a cemetery. He knew what it was just from seeing them and asking about
them in the past, but he never was informed about what actually happens in one. As we pulled in, I
explained to him that we were there to take some photos of graves and to visit where his great
grandmother was buried. It had been sometime since I had been there and the place had changed. I
knew exactly where Ephraim’s grave was, and headed to it immediately. I said nothing of the grave
to my son; I just waited to watch his reactions during the time we were there. I started taking
many photos of the gravestone and cemetery, while doing so, my son would look at gravestones and
play with sticks that were on the ground. I was surprised that he showed no emotion towards
Ephraim’s grave, I really thought perhaps it would show something to him as it had to me in the
past. He did ask what the gravestone said on it and I read it to him, “Since thou canst no longer
stay to cheer us with thy love, We hope to meet with you again in your bright world
above.” I took a couple of dozen photos of the gravestone and cemetery, then decided it was time to
visit my grand mother’s grave.
We started to look for it, I used to know exactly where it was. We looked and looked for it. I had
visited it many times in the past but was not able to find it. I couldn’t understand what in the
hell was wrong with me, I could find someone’s grave I have never met, yet couldn’t find the grave
of one of the people that meant more to me in life than most that are currently living. I kept
searching and searching and while searching something happened that I expected, just not
involving the people I had imagined.
We had been looking for my grandmother’s grave for about forty five minutes when it happened.
My son started to yell at me, “Who are these people? This one is cool, who are they?” I thought
little of it, it was in the area of the cemetery where the newer flat gravestones
are. I told him I would be there in a minute; I was still looking for my
grandmother at that time. I put him off for a few moments and then again, “Dad, who are these
people?” I gave up for a moment and walked over to see who he was asking about. I walked up to the
marker and looked down, the name Blankenship staring me in the face. To touch on the past, the
Blankenship’s are the ones who I had originally always thought were the purchasers of the home from
Ephraim. They had lived in and passed the home down for seven decades. There are very few
Blankenships buried in that cemetery, they have their own family cemetery located in a field, out
in the country. These just weren’t any Blankenships, these were the last owners of the house. This
is the same Blankenship whose dog would stand on his grave daily until it had to be
chained up and died of starvation. I had never been drawn to this gravestone, but my son was
and apparently it was making quite an impression on him.
I sat down and asked him why he liked it so much. He told me they seemed nice and the gravestone
was really cool. It wasn’t cool by any means, just one of those flat slabs with a name on it, yet
here we were, standing there looking at it out of all the hundreds in the cemetery. I explained to
my son who they were, told him they owned the home that the man in the other gravestone built. All
very deep topics for a child not even the age of four, but he seemed to take it all in and we
sat there for a few moments and continued on.
We looked another thirty minutes or so for my grandmother’s grave and just could not find it.
Nothing looked familiar in that part of the cemetery and I was feeling terrible about
it. I exclaimed aloud that I was sorry I couldn’t find her grave, but that I loved her none the
less. I went over and put a coin in Ephraim’s gravestone as I had always done and loaded my son up
to leave the cemetery. As we were leaving, I noticed a sign hidden by overgrown bushes. I stopped
to see what it said, and it was a legend of the cemetery, telling where everyone had been buried. I
looked at it, found out where my grandmother was and took off over to her. I learned they had
removed the tree that she was buried under and taken out a road that was just to the side of
her, both items I had used to always locate her grave. I felt much better knowing I wasn’t
completely insane in not knowing where she was buried, showed her gravestone to my son and we left
coins in her flower holder as I always do.
My son and I then headed out to drive past the old home and take some pictures. The house
looks horrible. It is very overgrown, is a dreary white with multicolored trim and looks nearly as
bad as it did all those years ago when my parents first saw it. It looks sad,no wonder there is so much negative energy around it, I would be negative as well if
people let me run down like that. After taking pictures of the home, we headed up the hill to my
aunt and uncle’s home to visit with my uncle before heading back to the city. We visited a short
time and then took the long way back to the city, showing my son many of the places I used to go
when I had grown up down there. He enjoyed the drive and I did as well. I didn’t take him to places
I had really feared, I figured he had seen enough and I didn’t want to take him places I wasn’t
even looking forward to going.
In all I wasn’t surprised by what happened with him in the cemetery, just by whom it
involved. I really thought Ephraim’s gravestone would have called out to him as it did to me in
the past, but another of the home’s owners apparently had called out to my son. Not sure what to
make of all of it yet, but time will tell. All I knew was that I was really excited to get home and
look at the photos I had taken on the computer to see if they had revealed anything.
