Saturday, June 25, 2022

A Desert Haunt Part 4-Guest Blogger

 Excited to publish Part 4 of Guest Blogger Rick's story, A Desert Haunting!  Truly an amazing story.  Although Rick gives us a lot credit throughout the story, he and his family are the ones that dealt with the issue head on.  We only provided a little push, along with some inspiration to come forward and do the things that needed to be done.

That is the whole reason we share our story, to help others and give them strength to deal with something that is torturing them.  

If you'd like to catch up on Rick's story you can do so by clicking these links, Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3

If you'd like become a guest blogger and share your story, we encourage you to do so!  Our goal remains to help others and give them strength.  Sharing your story could help others get the help they need!   Click here to become a guest blogger!

As always thanks to all  of you for your continue support and kinds words!

Lance & Jennifer


A Desert Haunt, Part 4

Looking back on the events that led us to conclude our rented desert house was haunted, it is interesting to see how slowly the events unfolded. Writing this story has actually helped put these things into perspective.

To recap: We moved into the house in February 2018 and lived in relative calm while we settled into our new environment, not realizing the changes that were very slowly building up over that first year. Several "new" things happened at the beginning of 2019: a used shed arrived one week in January and Buddy showed up the next; Sheri's horse riding lesson program took off in February so that people were coming onto the property on an almost daily basis; that led to Sheri adding another horse for kids to ride in March; also in March we added a corral, shelter, and round pen to accommodate the horse and improve the riding lessons.

We always linked the arrival of our rescue dog, Buddy, as the catalyst that ramped up the activity level in our home. Putting these events in context makes me wonder if it wasn't the combination of all those changes. But letting Buddy move into the house with us was the first time something sought to get our attention. Like most people (I assume) we tried to figure out logical explanations for the falling/moving/missing objects, the noises, the uneasiness, the mood swings, the illnesses. It got harder to explain things away the more frequent, physical, and personal they became.

Between January and May, the activity escalated so that we had no doubt we were living in a haunted house. In fact, the whole property was haunted. We had become complete believers! I tried to find a way to deal with the activity, but I admit we were living in fear of the unexplainable.

As I mentioned in Part 3, Memorial Day weekend 2019 set us on the path to learning to coexist with our situation.

That Saturday morning Sheri noticed a car turn into the area in front of the house and stop. She wasn't expecting any students, so she went outside to see what they wanted. Inside the car were two women and a three- or four-year-old girl. It turns out the driver, and younger of the two women, had lived in this place with her grandparents for a couple years starting in 2010.

The young lady was with her mother and child that day and just felt the urge to visit. She said her grandparents really loved living at the place and she wanted to come by for the good memories. She said her grandparents added the irrigation for the lawn and planted the two mulberry trees in the little back yard, they built the deck and planted the roses at the front the house. Her grandmother kept a couple horses in the same area we had ours. She said she had good memories of living here, which was a really happy time for them.

Sheri asked if they had ever had any strange experiences while living here. The two women exchanged a glance. The young lady went on to say that in 2012, her grandfather had a massive heart attack while in the house. They called an ambulance, but he was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. It's highly likely he passed away on the property. Shortly after his passing, she and her grandmother moved away. At the time of this visit, her grandmother was living in a nursing home in Arizona. They were interested in why Sheri asked the question, so she invited them inside where they could talk more comfortably and include me in the conversation.

After coming inside and filling me in on the connection our visitors had to the property, we started telling them about what we were experiencing. Walking to the area by the loveseat, Sheri explained this is where we would often smell cigarette smoke. The granddaughter said that’s where her grandfather had his chair, and he was a heavy smoker. He would either smoke in his chair or on the back porch - the other area we would smell smoke.

We explained that all the activity inside the house seemed to pick up after we brought Buddy inside. The two ladies said the grandfather was especially opposed to a dog being in the kitchen and around the dining area. It so happened that we had placed Buddy's kennel at the end of the dining table. This was probably not something he would have approved.

They didn't stay long, but in that short time they validated much of what we were experiencing. Maybe the most unique validation was when Sheri mentioned how her bra would unsnap right at the front steps when she was going inside after her evening chores were finished each day. The two women were a bit taken aback, but then related how Grandpa thought it a funny practical joke to pull on women. They had no doubt who was responsible for the bra unsnapping. In fact, they said to yell at him and tell him "You stop that right now!"

Needless to say, our Saturday turned out to be quite enlightening. We now had a name and a reason why Buddy seemed to have triggered the activity. I will be honest that while Sheri was accompanying our guests to their car I said to the room, "That's your family, now is your chance to go with them and be with them again." I do feel guilty about trying to push a ghost off on them, but I was desperate to resolve our issue. And for a few days it seemed like maybe he did go with them.

Having this information fall into our laps couldn't have come at a better time because of the next thing that happened that Memorial Day weekend. I was looking through Twitter and saw a reply in Amy Allan's Twitter feed to a post by Lance about his family's blog, their haunting and Dead Files experience. I opened the blog in my browser but didn't actually start reading it for a couple weeks.

While we now had a good idea who was haunting us, we weren't exactly sure how to use that information. We thought maybe he had gone with his family, which he might have, but after a few days Sheri's bra unsnapped; an announcement that he was back. So we took their advice to call him out by name and tell him he couldn't that. Sheri read him the riot act, so to speak, setting up her boundaries. Having someone to scold was therapeutic in a way. Doing this was mostly effective. Every once in a while he reminded Sheri he was still around by performing his favorite stunt.

At this point it was as if he decided he could come and go, and also travel with us. Maybe I gave him the idea with my suggestion and, at times, it felt like the house had a different vibe, like he was gone. Other times, we got the familiar feeling he was back. Even other times, it felt like a spirit was around except the energy was completely different. Darker. Could this be something new? Or maybe something that was always here, just more subtle?

One day a riding lesson student told Sheri that she had a dream about our house. Sheri asked, "You did? What was it about?" The girl, about nine years old, said she dreamed our house had hidden passageways under it and doors to every room that kids were using to watch us. She said adults couldn't see these kids.

Sheri immediately associated this dream with the heat ducts under the house and the vents in every room that Buddy hated. He would growl at these vents and sometimes come completely unglued and lose his mind barking at one. He seemed to especially dislike the kitchen vent. This revelation floored Sheri because her student had never been in our house and had no idea about our paranormal experiences. Yet she had this dream that just seemed to fit what was going on. When Sheri shared it with me I thought it significant that she used the plural "kids". It made me afraid we had something letting in more than one entity, like a portal or pathway. This only added to my anxiety.

This went on for weeks. I would sage and suggest the grandfather go to the light and be with his loved ones waiting for him on the other side. I would go to every room repeating what I had heard Amy say on one of her episodes, "All negativity must leave this place. No negativity may remain in this place. Only love, light, and peace may enter." I also added, "Any dead must leave." I mixed a solution of holy water and tar water, put it in a yard sprayer, and sprayed the entire property boundary repeating the same mantra.

During this period, between May and September, I was continuing to sage and research while my dreams and sense of unease ramped up. I had been recording Dead Files episodes on DVR and was watching at least one episode every night. While I was picking up some tips, I was also worrying that my efforts might trap spirits by botching a cleansing. I also read or watched that removing one spirit might set the condition for another, more negative one to take its place. Sort of like how the universe abhors a vacuum. Well, that didn't sound too good. I was getting a bit paranoid about that concept. By this time I was reading through the blog and the extreme activity Lance and his family had gone through. I felt somewhat consoled by the fact that at least ours was not as bad as theirs.

By the time September rolled around I finally finished reading the most recent post about the Eberhardt's story. I was caught up and I was amazed at what they went through. I was thankful we weren't dealing with anything to that extent. I don't know if we would have survived! As I shared in Part 3, I posted a note to Lance, thanking him for sharing their experience and letting him know it was helping me with our situation. His response helped me know what I needed to do.

The first thing that struck home was that I needed to stop being afraid. I had been trying to face the situation, but I had not let go of my fear. I needed to stand up for myself, Sheri, and Buddy. Without fear. After reading their experience and knowing they got through it, I had more confidence that I could too. That confidence also helped me with my fear. I dug down and realized I had faced more than one life-threatening situation in my military career without fear; I could do the same here. Taking back my home became my mission.

Of course this didn't fix things overnight. The other side had a vote and wasn't ready to let go. My new attitude, however, never wavered. Just making the decision that I would no longer be afraid is empowering. The dreams were the last to go, I think because sleep is a time when we are most vulnerable.

My approach to the spirits also changed. I stopped using the sage and would acknowledge the grandfather's presence when I felt it. I was more in charge and would remind him that we are in the house now and we are continuing to care for the trees, the yard, and the roses. We even planted an elm tree on the west side of the house to add our own touch. I would tell Grandpa if he wants to stay he has to follow our rules and not scare us or Buddy. This approach has been working. Fear is a thing of the past, even if we still have experiences.

What happens now are just experiences. Stories to tell. I mentioned Grandpa seemed to travel around with us. Three stories make me believe this. One day I was at work, about 45 minutes away, when I got the strong smell of stale cigarette. It was so strong I pulled the car into a parking lot and looked in the car trash bag for a cigarette butt. I was perplexed for a bit until I remembered Grandpa. I invited him to stay inside one of the buildings around me. The smell dissipated, but he wound up going back home with me. Another time Sheri was getting out of the truck going into a store for horse feed. While she was walking away from the truck her bra unsnapped. He had to be told that if he couldn't do it at home, he certainly couldn't do it in public. The last time it happened was on a trail ride Sheri went on with a neighbor friend. She had confided with the neighbor about some of our strange activity. During the ride our neighbor asked Sheri if she let her "friend" tag along. Sheri said "No, why?" "My bra just came unsnapped," she answered. Sheri advised her to give him a good talking to. The neighbor slowed her horse down and Sheri could hear her talking. Bras have remained snapped for several months now.

I continue to meditate and envision positive energy in the form of white light protecting us and our space. If I get a little lax on my duties Grandpa lets me know through Buddy, who remains my early warning system. Any activity is met with a firm reminder of the rules and the admonition to not bother Buddy. I continue to struggle with my moods and sudden anger. It's usually because I have failed to meditate and cleanse myself of negativity. I know this will be a constant struggle as long as I'm living here.

I am still not comfortable going in the metal shop or the tack/feed shed after dark. Recently I have started recording when I go into these places. I have captured a few unexplained noises, possibly voice, on the digital recorder while in the shop. Nothing has been captured in the shed or the house despite my turning on the recorder when I feel like something is happening. I am reluctant to do much investigating in the house because I don't want to stir up activity.

So that's our desert haunt. As long as we live here the story will continue. But we have learned to live with our spirit…or spirits. We have never really confirmed the presence of a portal or pathway. If there is, our protection may be working since things have calmed down significantly. I truly appreciate the Eberhardts for letting me share my story on their blog. It's been nearly five years in the making and I don't think I would be as comfortable with it were it not for their story. I encourage anyone who has gone through something similar to share your story. Not only could it help someone else, but it will also help your healing. It has mine. Thanks for reading.


Monday, May 30, 2022

A Desert Haunt Part 3-Guest Blogger

Part 3 of guest blogger's Rick haunting is finally here!  You can catch up on Part 1 by clicking here & Part 2 by clicking here

If you'd like become a guest blogger and share your story, we encourage you to do so!  Our goal remains to help others and give them strength.  Sharing your story could help others get the help they need!   Click here to become a guest blogger!

Hope you enjoy reading Part 3 of Rick's story!

Lance & Jennifer

A Desert Haunt, Part 3

With the consensus reached that we were dealing with something (or things) paranormal, Sheri and I decided we had to take action. The only problem was what action could we take?

For my part, I went to my go-to solution for anything I didn't understand: research. I used my standard internet search engine to read up on what to do if your house is haunted. That got some really interesting results. But I went through the list like I was weeding a flower bed. I tried to evaluate the sources and throw out the advice that didn't pass my gut check and spent my time on those that seemed more credible.

I have to say it wasn't an easy task. It wasn't an exact science, either. I went with what made sense to me or resonated with my own experiences. I wasn't wanting mystical, religious, or ritualistic solutions. I wanted something that would work once for all. I was naïve. I know now it doesn't work that way, but that was my starting point on this journey.

For Sheri's part, she was depending on me to come up with a strategy while she was dealing with the strange activity on a near daily basis. She was in the midst of the fight, so to speak, and had no time to develop tactics. Thankfully, she was open to ideas and, like anyone in a fight, quick to grasp anything that might give her the advantage.

My online research soon shifted to television and the massive amount of programming about the paranormal. It had been several years since I had watched Ghost Hunters and I was amazed at how the genre had just exploded. The show I was most drawn to was The Dead Files, because of Amy Allan. To me, she was sincere, gifted, and was working with people dealing with things in their homes like Sheri and me. Steve DiSchiavi's investigations added the validation to Amy's walks.  It didn't take long for me to learn from her that every solution was unique and they also took time. I watched every episode I could. Sheri watched with me, sometimes we got more than a little freaked out about the things Amy would see. I'm sure Sheri thought I was becoming obsessed with watching the show. I guess I was. Finding an answer to our problem kind of drove me to it. We even talked about trying see if she would come to our home.

So what was our problem? I described most of the activity in Part 2, but I wouldn't actually call that the problem. That was just weird stuff that happened. Things to talk about. Stories to tell. To me, the real problem was how living in our home was affecting each of us. Things that are not easily described or measured but the real mental toll it was taking as time went on.

I was dealing with some serious mood issues. I am not normally a moody person, let alone downright angry. But I am here…it's something I struggle with to this day. We had certainly gone through a serious life change after my leaving the military (a part of my identity that was stripped away and now gone). That's a story in itself and anyone having gone through the separation process will know what I mean. I'll just sum it up this way: One day you're a 24/7 contributing member of something that, once it's done with you, revokes your membership, replaces it with papers that show you once belonged, and sends you on your way by moving you one final time to where you want to go. Oh, and thank you for your service. Yeah, it was hard for me after 30 years, 6 months, and 15 days. Maybe that explained my mood changes.

Accompanying the moodiness was the unease. I guess some might argue they are the same, but not me. I do agree they complement one another, like peas and carrots, to borrow from Forrest Gump. Both of us were on eggshells, not from worrying about what kind of mood the other might be in, but from whatever was happening in the house. What would "it" do next; would we do something to set "it" off?

A month into my research and I had got some sage and started cleansing our home about once a week using a combination of techniques I'd read about that seemed appropriate for our situation. I had no idea what I was doing, but intent seemed to be a common theme from what I was reading. So I went with what felt right to me and the intent for spirits to have a one-way path to leave but not come back. Having been raised in a Christian home I also returned to prayer and began meditating to envision God's positive energy surrounding our home and pushing out the negative. This seemed to reduce the activity, but I needed to repeat the sage weekly along with constant prayer and meditation to keep things semi-quiet.

Buddy was my early warning device that activity was ramping back up. He would start avoiding certain areas and keep watch on them. His interest at these times was mostly centered around the heating vents in the floors. The kitchen was not a happy place for Buddy. He would growl low and quiet at it from the entryway, back up and cautiously approach again like he was trying to make sense of something that required extreme caution. Another early warning was the smell of cigarette smoke. That's when I knew it was time to sage and send up prayers again. We would go through every room wafting the smoke into every corner and repeating out loud that this was our home and only for the living. Anything else had to follow the smoke out of our home and off the property.

At least it felt like we were doing something. I think now that we were likely amusing our unseen roommates but they were willing to play along and tone it down for a while.

While this was going on I was bombarded with dreams. Dreams I can't remember other than that I had them and how I felt afterward. The impressions were raw and vivid. I tried keeping a dream journal for a while but gave up after not being able to remember them or put into words the impressions they left on me. These were hazy, confusing feelings of impending doom, of running and hiding from something. I would usually wake myself up from trying to yell or confront whatever was in my dream, but my voice wouldn't work. I would then pray and try to surround our house with my vision of white light descending through the home and pushing the darkness out every window, vent, and pipe until I fell back asleep.

Sheri suffered through this period too. Sometimes my attempts to yell would awaken her and then she would wake me up saying I was having a bad dream. Needless to say I wasn't getting much rest and neither was she. While my fellow commuters slept on the bus to and from work, I used my time to read and watch the paranormal shows, seeking an answer to our predicament.

Sheri was affected more physically than me. Not only was her sleep disturbed because of my dreams, she started having health issues. She began getting terrible migraines and unexplained pinpoint pains throughout her body. Bruises appeared on her legs and arms without any explanation or recollection of bumping into anything. Strange rashes appeared in odd areas and disappeared. Every so often she would have the sensation of being touched. In April 2019 she had a sudden debilitating pain in her abdomen that resulted in an ambulance trip to the emergency room and the urgent removal of her gallbladder. The medical promise of a quick recovery from what was considered a routine procedure took over a year for the pain to subside even though the surgery part healed quickly and without infection. Three years later and that area will sometimes become sensitive to the slightest pressure, resulting in sharp pain.

As things were spiraling downward in 2019, her moods changed too, although not to the extent of mine. It was just enough for our combined moodiness to create conflict, resulting in our snapping at one another over the smallest issue. We would retreat into our own thoughts or activities, not feeling like talking to each other for a while. These were the times to leave the property and go out to dinner or shopping. Once away from the place, we would almost immediately return  to our (previously) normal symbiotic selves with normal conversations and laughter and enjoying each other's company again.

Sheri also saw shapes floating around which would leave her questioning her own eyes. Once while standing by the refrigerator she saw something that looked like a solid black sheet of construction paper appear in the kitchen and float into the utility room and disappear in the wall. Another time she saw something white through the slats of the wood fence that gave the impression of someone coming up the driveway. The horses noticed too, but when the object should have reached the end of the fence and continued in plain sight up the drive, nothing ever emerged. She also saw a gray rectangular shape appear in the desert while riding near the house. It floated across the ground like a magic carpet and then disappeared. The horse was watching it too with pricked ears. At other times, something would slap the bottom of her stirrup hard enough to feel and make a sound. It also spooked the horse. There were no sticks or shrubs high enough to reach the stirrup, which would have hit the horse's chest anyway. If not for the reaction of the animals to these things, Sheri would have thought she was hallucinating.

Speaking of the animals, we believe they were being affected too. They reacted to things seen and unseen. Buddy didn’t have any health issues, but he was reacting to things inside the house we couldn't see. The same cannot be said for the horses. We arrived here in 2018 with two healthy horses and in March 2019 we added a third mare. The first indication was when the horses became unusually lethargic. In June, Sheri took the youngest of the two original mares, Maggie, to the vet who ran a series of tests. The surprising result was she had a heart murmur and beginning stages of heart failure. A condition the vet said was very unusual in horses, especially Arabians. She was given medicine and told to bring Maggie back for a checkup in a few weeks.

Because of that diagnosis, Sheri took the other two mares for a checkup. Our oldest horse, Samantha, was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. Again, the vet said this was unusual because thyroid issues in horses usually accompany other health problems that Samantha did not have. The vet called it a standalone thyroid condition and prescribed her a medication to treat it. Our newest and youngest horse, Summer, basically received a clean bill of health.

Over the next couple of weeks Maggie's health continued to worsen. On July 30, 2019, Sheri made the heartbreaking decision to have our sweet mare euthanized. Our last day at home with her was a tearful day outside in our little backyard patch of grass letting her graze while giving her favorite treats of watermelon, cantaloupe, and grapes. I still tear up remembering that day with her.

Shortly after, Summer was found in her corral laying down and unable to get up. She had foundered overnight and her front feet were too sore for her to stand. Sheri worked with her and was able to get her back on her feet for short periods of time. We thought we were going to lose her also. Thankfully, Summer recovered enough to stand and eventually make a partial recovery but she still has bouts of lameness and sore feet.

Samantha has been on the thyroid medicine for three years now. The levels have never returned to normal, so the medicine is the only way we have of controlling it. Other than that, she seems fine and is a great trail and lesson horse for children. Our trusty paint mare is pushing 30 according to vets, a pretty old age for a horse.

Throughout all this, sage-ing, prayer, and meditation were a continual part of our lives. Somewhere during that time, an episode of The Dead Files aired featuring a place from my home state of Missouri. This was my first introduction to the Eberhardts, although I didn't know at the time how important their story would become to us.

This Memorial Day weekend is especially significant because of two events that happened on the same weekend in 2019. They started us on the path to turning our situation around. It's funny how the intersection of these two important events were lost on me until going through my notes to write this. But there they were, staring right in my face. You don't always recognize the importance of something right away.

The first event was an unexpected Saturday visitor from a young lady who lived in this house several years ago as a child. The second was an innocuous one-word reply from Amy Allan's Twitter to a Tweet by Lance about his blog…this blog. Following that link opened a connection to their complete story.

I left the page open in my web browser for 2 or 3 weeks before joining the Eberhardt's on their paranormal journey from the beginning. It took me a while, but I finished reading everything in September. Their story hit me in a way I could never have imagined. After reading that last entry, I posted a comment to Lance and mentioned our current situation. One small part of Lance's reply set me on the path to dealing with our home. He said, "My only suggestion would be to handle it now; head on & without fear."

That short sentence in the midst of Lance's reply had an enormous impact. It said I could handle it. I needed to face it. I did not need to be afraid. Time was not on my side.


I hope you'll forgive me for being flexible with the chronology. Many things were happening simultaneously while I was trying to make sense of them and seek answers. In my next post I'll wrap up our story with the revelation of our 2019 Memorial Day Weekend visitor and the decisions we made to "handle it", thanks to Lance's encouragement.

Saturday, May 7, 2022

A Desert Haunt Part 2-Guest Blogger

 Here's part 2 of Guest Blogger Rick's haunting.  If you want to catch up, you can read Part 1 by clicking HERE.

If you like to be a guest blogger, we'd love to hear from you.  Click HERE  to get the information to submit your story!

Hope you enjoy Part 2 of Rick's story!

Lance & Jennifer

A Desert Haunt, Part 2

Well, our little rescue desert dog, Buddy, had just arrived on the scene at our home in the Mojave Desert and strange happenings started picking up in our house. This was now February 2019, right at one year since we moved in. The only odd thing Sheri remembers prior to Buddy moving in was the occasional odor of cigarettes in one area of the house.

I will add here that the week before Buddy showed up, on January 15, 2019, our landlord brought a 10'x16' building from a nearby property. He put the building close to the horse lot so Sheri could use it to store feed and tack. Great! What a nice gesture! Or was it?

I've always been paranormal-curious and was a big fan of Ghost Hunters back in the early 2000s. I also loved watching the early seasons of Supernatural, Medium, and Ghost Whisperer. My interest goes further back than that since I'm a huge Scooby-Doo fan from my childhood to this day. So, taking the step from the strange things happening around our home were just strange to calling them paranormal wasn't a huge leap. What to do about it? That was an entirely different dilemma.

Shortly after Buddy moved in with us the flags started adding up. I worked all day and usually spent the evenings staying busy until bedtime, so I wasn't as aware of these things as Sheri, who rarely left the property except to ride the horses or get feed for them. After Buddy's treat-basket incident, we began talking more about what she was experiencing. This led to me noticing them more and more when I was home.

The first thing was the smell of cigarettes got stronger and moved to other parts of the house. Neither of us smoke. The most common area we smelled it was in the living room where we had put a left-behind loveseat that I usually sit in. The rooms are really tiny in order to accommodate three bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, living room, dining room, family/office room, and utility room. So there are only so many ways to configure the living room if you have more than one piece of furniture. I'm sure our setup matched many of the previous tenants over the place's 30-year history. We actually don't know anything about the loveseat other than it was simply here and we asked if we could use it, along with a dining room table that was also left behind by someone. They don't smell like smoke if you put your nose up to them. The other most common area we would smell cigarettes was around the back door leading out to the rear porch and small fenced-in back yard.

If that was all, we could have kept ignoring the signs. But there was more. They mostly happened to Sheri and I got to hear about them later. That was the most frustrating thing for me. She would call me or text me while I was at work freaked out about another experience she'd had and I had absolutely no idea what to do. I needed to protect my family but I didn't know what I was up against.

As Spring wore on, the unexplained stuff just kept ramping up. Below are some of the events. I can't necessarily recall dates or sequence, but they seemed to go from less obvious things that simply made you wonder to more physical stuff that was hard to just shake your head and move on from.

         At first, things inexplicably fell off shelves, tables, counters. Stuff would also go missing, then show up again later. A pocket knife I'd carried for years went missing and was never seen again to this day. I totally understand these things can be written off to being misplaced. That's exactly what I did at first.

         Sometimes the computer or phone would start behaving strangely. Especially if you were trying to type something. It would just start adding symbols or random characters. In some cases, the only solution was to restart the device.

         One weekend afternoon I was in the living room watching TV and a loud commotion came from the bedroom. Buddy lost his mind barking and growling at the sound and all that caused me to jump. I followed him into the bedroom and he went straight to the closet, his hair up and growling. Some of Sheri's shirts had come off the hangers; some of the hangers were swinging and some had come off the rod. Nobody was in the bedroom, and Buddy & I were alone in the living room. That wasn't the only time things in that closet came off the hangers.

         Sheri started having her bra unsnap while she was working outside. It didn't happen all the time, however over a couple-week period it was rather predictable. Sheri would work all day without any problems with her bra, then, when she finished up her chores for the day and was coming inside for the evening, her bra would come undone right at the base of the steps to our front porch. It almost always happened that way, no matter if she was finishing early or late. Sheri swears, since she's been wearing a bra most of her life, she had never had this kind of trouble with her bras before. It didn't matter if they were new, old, or what. It would come undone at almost the same place as she approached the house to come inside for the evening. It wasn't just confined to her or the house area though. Once it happened to one of her riding lesson students in the middle of a lesson. The young lady was so embarrassed she didn't know how to tell Sheri what happened. It also happened to Sheri once when was getting out of the truck to go into a feed store.

         Sheri was in the bathroom and saw, through the frosted glass window, the dark shape of a person walking up the front porch steps. It looked like the shadow of a person backlit by the sunlight. She thought it was UPS delivering a package, so she hurried to finish her business and went to the front door to find nothing. No package, no person, no vehicle. There were no sounds of footsteps, knocks, or a vehicle pulling up to the house. Just that unmistakable shape of a human being.

One of my favorite things to do here in the desert is sit outside in the evening around our fire pit. The night air cools down and the warmth of the fire feels really good. The house is surrounded by gravel, put in so the owner could move heavy equipment and trucks around without worrying about them getting buried in the sand. I took advantage of all that graveled space to put out a fire pit and not have to worry about the fire getting away from me. Sitting by that fire in the evening is the best way I've found to relax at the end of a long day. When I lived back east I could only imagine what it would be like to sit outside, drink a cold beverage, and not be attacked by night insects. I can now do that, but after one particular night I have to wonder if something else might deliver a different sort of attack.

The sun had slipped over the horizon 30 or 40 minutes before and I was listening to some music, drinking a beer, and trying to pick out constellations in the darkening sky. Sheri was in the horse lot off to my left finishing up with her evening feeding and I was waiting for her to join me. From behind me, I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps running through the gravel. I thought I was about to be hit from behind…with what, I didn't know. I jumped up and yelled out a warning to whoever was rushing me. I grabbed the fire poker and pivoted 180 degrees toward the sound of those steps and got in a fighting stance, prepared to defend myself as best I could. With my heart racing and my adrenaline stoking my courage, I tried to locate the threat. Nothing was there. There is easily 10 yards of open space all around where I was sitting. The gray sheet-metal fence that had been to my back was the closest thing and anyone would have been outlined against it. I reached for my flashlight and probed all around in the gathering dark. Nothing. I sidestepped, still facing the perceived danger, until I could see beyond the corner of the sheet-metal fence. Again, nothing. I was all alone.

That experience unnerved me more than anything up to that point and since. Were we in danger? I couldn't be sure. The sound of those footsteps running toward me, crunching in the gravel, haunts me to this day. The menace and purpose in them were apparent. They could not be ignored. Neither can they be forgotten. I don't know what made that sound. My eyes told me there was nothing around that could have made it. My physical reaction to it told me something had to have made it.

I told Sheri what happened when she joined me a little later. She could tell how disturbed I was. We wondered what we could do. I admitted I was scared. She acknowledged she was too.

What do you do when you finally accept you're dealing with a haunting? Where do you turn? In part 3, I'll try and explain how the experiences affected us and how we tried to fight back.

Saturday, April 23, 2022

A Desert Haunt Part 1 - Guest Blogger

We'd like to welcome new guest blogger, Rick!  He's sharing the terrifying story of his experiences in the desert.  Here's Part 1 of his story.

The purpose in sharing our story has been to help others; giving them strength and courage to get the help they need to live a normal life.  That purpose has turned into a mission.  

We don't shy away from our experience and neither should anyone else.  No one should suffer in silence out of fear of being judged or ridiculed.

If you'd like to be a guest blogger, click HERE for details.  We'd love to hear from you!

Thanks and enjoy Rick's story.

Lance

A Desert Haunt

So this story has been hard to write. I've made several starts but have never really been able to finish. Maybe it's because we're not truly done with it yet. But reading the Eberhardt's story when I was searching for my own answers helped me get through our experiences and to a place of more peace. I thought this could be one way to show my appreciation for them sharing their experiences and potentially contribute to their mission to help others dealing with strange and scary things in their homes. 

Our story starts in September 2017 when my long-time girlfriend, Sheri, and I moved to the Mojave Desert in California after I got out of the Army. This was a new chapter in our lives, leaving the military life behind and becoming civilians again. I had been hired on to a Federal job, so hopefully you'll understand my not disclosing our exact area. We moved to a place where we had no ties, no family, no friends; just the purpose of starting something new.  

We landed at a short-term rental we found before we left the military and then, in January 2018, we found a more permanent place to rent. This place, where we still live, gave us the opportunity to have our two horses on the same property with us instead of boarding them at another location. Our landlords had moved out of state and we've become caretakers of their property as well as renters. 

"I could never sleep here at night all by myself." 

That's what the wife half of our landlord duo said when my girlfriend told her she would be alone for two weeks while I went to Colorado Springs on my first business trip. Too bad we didn't have the foresight to ask why she would say something like that. Or why the husband, who usually lets nothing go without commentary, had nothing to add to his wife's statement. 

We wrote her remark off as referring to the isolation of the place. Nobody would hear you scream here since the closest neighbors had strategically put up fences and planted trees as visual reminders of their ideology on privacy. No worries. We had a shotgun, a rifle, and almost a 4-wheel drive. Taking inspiration from Hank Jr., we were both country folks; we could survive. 

The property had three structures. The main place was a drab, blue-gray mobile home that more resembled a modular house thanks to the wood panel siding and half-length covered porch. A small back yard with grass and two sweeping mulberry trees were a nice touch. A dead tree pointed like an ominous finger toward the west end of the house. Sheri hung a hummingbird feeder on it. 

Front of house as approach from driveway.

Front of house as approach from driveway. 

The other two structures were in a fenced off yard set off from the home place and surrounded by a dark brown sheet-metal fence taller than my 5 feet 9 inches by a head. An all-metal tan shop dominated the area. It was high as a two-story building and boasted two garage-style roll-up doors on the north side. Right next to it was a paint shop that, ironically, was unpainted. It's gray metal walls and decayed wood roof looked like a graveyard mausoleum compared to the nicely painted workshop. Talk about a stark contrast. 

There was only one rule - no painting the inside rooms of the house. All we were told was there was a tenant who painted a room (not sure which) black. The landlords said it took many coats of paint to get back to a light color. We were fine with that, especially since I don't like to paint. Anything. But it begs the question why anyone would paint a room black. In hindsight I can only think of it being a person or people with dark tendencies. No telling what was done in the dark of that room. 

Our interest in the place, however, was strictly for the horses. Right out the front door was a half-acre area that was enclosed on three sides. The owners gave us free reign to finish fencing this part off so Sheri could put the two horses there. For the first time in our 8 years together, we had finally found a place that we could have the horses with us instead of boarding them miles away. It was great! 

That first year our priority was turning our little place into a home for us and the horses. We bought corral fences and shelters, started watering the trees and the grass, and weeded the rose bed out front. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Even that couple of weeks Sheri stayed alone was uneventful. Our new life in California was taking on a sense of normal. 

Normal, that is, until Buddy showed up out of the desert in January 2019. Somewhere around a year to the day of our move-in date. I was at work when I got the first text from Sheri about him on January 22. Buddy is a rusty red colored dog about the size of a fox. He has a white patch on his chest and the most soulful brown eyes you can imagine. He found us during a cold spell that had temperatures dropping to the teens at night. I immediately knew I wanted to keep him, but we had to try and see if we could find an owner. We reported him to the local animal shelter's Facebook page and also on another lost and found page. Then we waited. 

First Buddy photo, January 22, 2019 

At first we set up a place for him to sleep on the front porch in a cooler with some towels because of the cold. We put a dish by the steps and bought some dog food. In just a day or two, we moved him inside and he's been inside with us ever since. Nobody ever claimed the little guy. So after waiting the required two weeks, Buddy joined our little family. The vet said he was about a year-and-a-half old. Nobody has been able to identify what type of dog he is. Speculation is mostly on a blend of chihuahua, Pomeranian, dachshund, and even terrier. Only his mom and dad really know. 

Up until that point, nothing was too unusual. I learned after the fact that Sheri would smell cigarette smoke on occasion, but it wasn't anything she felt worth mentioning at the time. 

The month after Buddy moved in, things took a dramatic turn. Not for the best. 

I got a text from Sheri on Wednesday, Feb 13, 2019. We had put a small basket with toys & treats on top of Buddy's kennel in the kitchen. One of them came off the kennel and crashed to the floor. Except it didn't just slide off, the way it landed it looked like it was flung off the crate. As I remember it, this was when we finally started thinking something paranormal was going on. Sheri had actually been having experiences before then, but had not said anything to me about them. 

So this was the start of a journey that, while not "run-out-of-the-house-screaming" level of scary, forced us to accept that something out of the ordinary was going on in our home. We started living in a state of constant dread and the fear slowly built until I started looking for answers which eventually led me to this blog. I am going to stop here for now, as one post is just not enough to tell this story. In future contributions I will highlight some of the experiences that came next as the activity ramped up, our reactions and struggles to deal with what was happening, and ultimately the story of a surprise visitor that shed a ton of light on what was going on.

Saturday, April 16, 2022

Dark Sun Rising

 A couple of house cleaning things before I get into this blog entry.  First, if you comment in the comment section of a blog entry, I do see it and I'll respond.  The problem I found out recently is that you may not get a notification of my reply.  You will have to check back for my response.  Second, I've neglected doing blog entries.  It doesn't mean I don't have any to write, because as you'll read in this blog entry, I certainly do.  It comes down to time.  I work full-time in what at times can be a stressful job, still have kiddos at home who are in activities, and still have to work the ranch/farm here.  Hopefully things will start settling down and I can commit to more time doing entries.  I still remain in awe of how many people still read the blog, for that I truly thank you. So, if that many people still are reading, I need to do my part and write!  Lastly, if you want to be a guest blogger we encourage you to do so.  The more people who share their experiences, the better it is for everyone.  Remember, our goal is to help others and give them strength to get the help.  Sharing your story could encourage them to do just that.  If you want to be a guest blogger, just click HERE

Now, back to our story.

Black Sun Rising

When things happen in your life that are traumatic, you tend to be on heightened alert afterwards.  As time passes, that heightened sense of anxiety starts to fade and you are not  as diligent as you once were.  You become laxed on doing the things that ensured that whatever happened wouldn't happened again.  It's just human nature.  You never fully close the door and that slight crack you left open is the only invitation it is needs to come back into your life to reek havoc.

We had recovered nicely from our experiences since we got help from The Dead Files back in 2016.  Things seemed to be normal for us.  We had only dealt with very minor issues and nothing truly malevolent.  We thought that the bad things were behind us, we thought we were safe.   The feelings of past anxiety had faded and we unintentionally let our guard down.  A classic case of "out of sight, out of mind".

The Pandemic changed our lives dramatically.  I was no longer traveling and began working from home 100% of the time.  Heidi and Emi changed to remote learning.   Eating out and any sort of outside entertainment had vanished.  Like many of you, we were stuck in our homes, prisoners somewhat.  It was nice having us all home and spending some time together but as days turned in weeks and weeks turned into months, the reality sunk in that this was not going to end anytime soon.  Needless to say, it began to take its toll and started wearing us down.

If you've been reading our blog, you remember that once you start getting worn down the door to things coming begins to open.  We knew that we still had the "path of dead people" that Amy talked about during out reveal of our Dead Files episode, but we had, up to this point, done a good job of keeping them out.

We started noticing changes in our behaviour.  We were not sleeping well,  continuously arguing, depressed, and questioning our self worth.  These things seemed to affect Emi the most.

A quick little back story to provide some clarity for the rest of this story.  Emi had moved to the back bedroom.  It was Londyn's room when we first moved in and Heidi's room during our Dead Files episode.  This is the room where we feel all our problems started.  We have always thought that there was some sort of portal in the room's bathroom but we were fairly confident we had closed it.   However, as you'll read next, we apparently didn't lock it.  

Jennifer was the first to realize that Emi was not acting normal.  She knew that it was something malevolent and that it was attacking her.  She immediately took steps to try get rid of whatever was the source.  She Saged, burned Frankincense and Myrrh incense, and salted.  These steps only worked temporarily as whatever we were dealing with was able to overcome them.

Jennifer had become friends with a woman, Lisa, who had psychic abilities and was studying to become a Reiki.  She is an incredible gifted woman and we're very lucky to know her.  Jennifer asked her to do Reiki on Emi to see if she could see anything in her.  She noticed Emi was being attacked, taking her over and it had something to do with the back bedroom.  Her recommendation was perform Reiki in the back bedroom to determine what was there and to work on getting rid of it by a cleanse.

We decided this was what needed to be done and we needed to do it as soon as possible.  We felt if we didn't, it would it would only continue to feed on Emi and get stronger.  Jennifer didn't want Emi there when it was time to do it because she didn't want to scare her or allow it to jump into her for protection.  Jennifer arranged for Heidi to take Emi out to have some sister fun time.   This would buy us the time we needed.

The first step was preparing the room. Lisa had us draw crosses in all the mirror and light candles in specific locations in the room.  After the room was prepped, we called Lisa using FaceTime.  Lisa began working on finding out what was there.  

"Demon", she said

Our hearts sunk.

"Demon?  There's a Demon in here?", Jennifer asked

"Yes, there's a Demon but it's weak", Lisa answered

"Can we get rid of it?  What can we do?"  Jennifer responded

"We can try but we all need to work together", Lisa said

Now, I'm not a Demonologist but what I do know is that Demons just don't leave because you politely ask.  They are there for some ungodly reason and their mission is to turn good to bad and bad to worse,  They don't rest until they complete that mission and they don't leave without putting up a fight.  Luckily we had an advantage as the Demon hadn't fully entered and was weak.

Without hesitate, we ask Lisa to get to work.   She explains to us the stone pendent she was holding will move a certain way when (and if) we get rid of the Demon.  I am holding one myself and it dangled toward the ground motionless.  Lisa begins to do her thing, praying, chatting, and asking for strength.  She ask Jennifer to repeat the Lord's Prayer.  As she does, Lisa's stone pendent moves left to right, right to left.  The one I'm holding starts to do the same.  As they both continue to speak, the pendents move faster, changing directions multiples times.  The room got heavy and we could feel the angry, the resentment.  

After about 20 mins, the pendents stop.  The air in the room clears and you can feel peace.

"It's gone", Lisa says with a smile.

"It's gone?  Thank you God", Jennifer says.

This episode was a wake up call that we cannot let our guard down and they we need to stay diligent.  

We won't make this mistake again or take our peace for granted going forward.

This time, we closed and locked the door.




Monday, March 21, 2022

Tiffany Spirit Story-Guest Blogger

I'd like to tell you all of my most recent spirit encounter!  I joined a FB support group in October of '19 for a diagnosis I received in that past July. i combed through this support group and got so much wonderful advice.  I had a major 9-hour operation in January '20.  I barely remember my 4-day hospital stay because I was heavily medicated, but I do know I had spirit visitors--a woman and two men.  I didn't see them with my physical eyes, but I sensed them.  I knew where they stood.  I knew the men were doctors that were possibly affiliated with this particular hospital and were checking up on me.  The woman made herself very known by waking me up in a least desirable way--she made me wake up in sheer panic, shortness of breath and chest pain.  At first, I thought it was the pain meds and maybe I had stopped breathing but even in my drug induced state I knew it was how she was feeling.  She wasn't mean or trying to scare me, but she was just scared to death.  Fast forward--she hitchhiked home with me!  I was tapering off my pain meds when I returned home except taking them at night to help me sleep since I was limited to only being on my back.  Each time she awoke me I'd sense her bouncing around the room in a panic. It was as if I could see her but not physically with my eyes.  She'd bounce from behind my door to the ceiling then I'd feel her try to get on my bed. I told her she couldn't get on my bed.  I'd at least learned to not allow spirits to lie down with you. After a couple of weeks of this I told her to stop coming to me this was because she had my attention.  I didn't appreciate being waken up in a sheer panic. So that night I awoke to a sweet and gentle voice whispering "Alisa?" and I thanked her for that approach. That night she showed me what she looked like. I paid very close attention to the details of her face and hair. I didn't recognize her as anyone I'd known. I tried counseling her and tried crossing her, but I was unable so a friend of mine helped. Another night i was awaken by a loud banging noise coming from the front porch and I knew it was my spirit woman and my friend. I dreamt of both of them that night and i knew my friend took her even though she didn't tell me.  She laughed the next day when I asked her about it.  She told me she'd astral travelled and made a point of telling me she didn't come into the house just the front porch.  She said the spirit met her on the front porch and she took her hand and led her off.  She said it took a couple of days to cross her, but she saw her cross and knew she was good.  Over the phone she told me she didn't understand but this spirit and I had some kind of connection between us.  And when she said that it clicked.  I felt like I knew but I also question myself and my abilities.  I also felt like I was grabbing at straws but somehow, I just figured this has to be it.  I asked my friend if she saw her because the spirit had shown me what she looked like in great detail from the shoulders up.  I'd seen her all in my mind (3rd eye). My friend also saw her so we both texted at the same time on speaker phone and hit send at the same time to compare notes.  It was nearly identical to my description except her hair.  It was amazing!  So, then I jumped on my Facebook support group while we were talking and combed through the month of October-December because I'd seen this woman post and remember responding to some posts, but we never had a verbal exchange.  I couldn't remember her name and I was frantically searching.  She had announced she had metastatic brain cancer and the next thing I know someone posted of her death.  All of this happened in a matter of weeks.  Once I had her name, I searched all of her photos and posts and came across the photo of how she'd shown herself to me. Then I found a photo of how she showed herself to my friend.  I sent her pictures to my friend and we compared notes. I broke down, I couldn't stop crying.  I mourned her death for a couple of days.  She was only 39 and I knew she didn't want to die.  She wanted children.  She hadn't expected she would die, and this shocked her. She wanted to live. Because of this she was stuck in her panicky death state.  My friend reassured me that she had crossed, and this spirit knew I could help her.  She waited for my surgery in the hospital to come to me.  She also said it was a good thing I was there, or she would have been trapped in her death state.  So, rest in peace my sweet sister, Tiffany, I will never forget you!  

Oh, and just a little side note on the two doctors who visited me at the hospital, they also made house calls. They never interacted with me but woke me up talking amongst themselves about my status and progress as "their" patient.  They visited me a few nights a week for the first three weeks of my recovery.

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