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GHOSTS page 2

The investigations in connection with apparitions, haunted houses, and Spiritualist phenomena continued for many years, although on the whole no definite conclusions were arrived at.
With the many wars, suffering, torture, tragedies that this small nation has witnessed, you would imagine that Vietnam has many, many ghosts. I interviewed a close friend of mine. Her name is Thuy Phan. Thuy is refreshing, reverberating and full of life. With big smiles, she can tell you about Vietnam. A Vietnam that she visualizes as paradise. Thuy is 19 years old and has heard stories about the war, but to her, it's like a mere fable that has been told to her, it seems unreal. I asked her if there are ghosts in Vietnam and her response is "plenty".

Thuy remembers the stories about the 'tree ghosts of Vietnam'. Legend has it that wandering Spirits around the countryside of Vietnam need a place to live and they take up residence in the trees of the jungle. It is said that if you cut down a tree without asking permission, you will be cursed or you will face bad luck. Usually the people of Vietnam will perform a ceremony asking the entities to leave a tree and to move onto another tree before cutting it down.

Former Lieutenant Howard Pierce who recently went to Vietnam on vacation, stopped off in the jungles of Bach Ma. He claims he saw two pale apparitions staring at him from one tree. As he approached the tree, the apparitions vanished in front of his very eyes. Perhaps Howard saw the tree ghosts of Vietnam?

Another ghost story that Thuy recalls is a story from her sister. Her sister and her sister's supervisor were working out-of-town and were staying in a hotel that was reputed to be haunted. As they discussed how the hotel is haunted, Thuy's sister's supervisor started walking around the hallway and saying..."I don't believe in ghosts, come out and show me that you are here!" She kept saying that over and over again. Finally an apparition actually walked in front of her and went into another room making a loud sound. After that day, Thuy's sister's supervisor believed in ghosts.

Three tourists claimed that in the Phuoc Tuy Province they encountered a phantom soldier that was wearing a hat that was flipped over on one side. He appeared to be bleeding from the side of his neck and holding his neck as if he were trying to stop the bleeding. They could hear the soldier say in an English or Australian accent: "I need help, where am I?" As they watched the soldier walk down the hill, he faded into a thick tree.

People that have explored the tunnels of Vietnam, have made claim of seeing moving figures in the tunnels. Could those moving figures be ghostly tunnel rats? Tunnel Rats of our American servicemen who went into these underground dwellings looking for VC (Viet Cong)? How many tunnel rats died tragically by poisonous booby traps? Those poisonous booby traps being bamboo viper, venomous Krait and scorpions placed strategically in places of the tunnels by the VC. If these biological booby traps didn't get you, then perhaps the shrapnel from a grenade or a discharged projectile from an AK-47 would make its mark. If you were a soldier in Vietnam and you were inside these tunnels, you were facing death. How many people including VC and allied soldiers died in these tunnels? Do I believe these tunnels to be haunted. My answer is "yes".

Vietnam had many conflicts, the Vietnam War was just one of those conflicts. With all of the tragedies of Vietnam, I believe there are many, many ghosts. I will never forget as I walked the Bridge of River Kwai in Thailand. I could feel the pain and suffering that once befell this tragic area. I didn't have to be psychic to feel the deep negativity. So when Thuy Phan tells me that there are ghosts in Vietnam. I have to believe her.

Of the many cases recorded of the return of dead soldiers, the following stands out because the particulars were received from two independent sources. It is related by Mr. W. T. Waters, of Tunbridge Wells, who says that he is only a novice in the study of Spiritualism:

In July last I had a sitting with Mr. J. J. Vango, in the course of which the 'Control' suddenly told me that there was standing by me a young soldier who was most anxious that I should take a message to his mother and sister who live in this town. I replied that I did not know any soldier near to me who had passed over. However, the lad would not be put off, and as my 'Own Friends' seemed to stand aside to enable him to speak, I promised to endeavour to carry out his wishes.

At once came an exact description which enabled me instantly to recognize in this soldier lad the son of an acquaintance of my family. He told me certain things by which I was made doubly certain that it was he and no other, and he then gave me his message of comfort and assurance to his mother and sister (his father had died when he was a baby), who, for over two years, had been uncertain as to his fate, as he had been posted as "missing." He described how he had been badly wounded and captured by the Germans in a retreat, and that he had died about a week afterwards, and he implored me to tell his dear ones that he was often with them, and that the only bar to his complete happiness was the witnessing of his mother's great grief and his inability to make himself known.

I fully intended to keep my promise, but knowing that the lad's people favoured the High Church party and would most likely be absolutely sceptical, I was puzzled how to convey the message, as I felt they would only think that my own loss had affected my brain. I ventured to approach his aunt, but what I told her only called forth the remark: "It cannot be," and I therefore decided to await an opportunity of speaking to his mother direct.

Before this looked-for opportunity came, a young lady of this town, having lost her mother about two years ago, and hearing from my daughter that I was investigating these matters, called to see me, and I lent her my books. One of these books is "Rupert Lives," with which she was particularly struck, and she eventually arranged a sitting with Miss McCreadie, through whom she received such convincing testimony that she is now a firm believer. During this sitting, the soldier boy who came to me came to her also. He repeated the same description that I had received, mentioned in addition his name Charlie and begged her to give a message to his mother and sister the selfsame message which I had failed to give. So anxious was he in the matter, that at the close of the sitting he came again and implored her not to fail him.

Now, these events happened at different dates-July and September-the same message exactly being given through different Mediums to different persons, and yet people tell us it is all a myth and that Mediums simply read our thoughts.

When my friend told me of her experience I at once asked her to go with me to the lad's mother, and I am pleased to state that this double message convinced both his mother and his sister, and that his aunt is almost brought to the truth if not quit.

The Rev. G. Vale Owen describes * the return of George Leaf, one of his Bible Class lads in Orford, Warrington, Cheshire. U.K. who joined the R.F.A. and was killed in the Great War.

* "Facts and the Future Life" (1922), pp. 53-4.

Some weeks later his mother was tidying up the hearth in the sitting-room. She was on her knees before the grate when she felt an impulse to turn round and look at the door which opened into the entrance hall. She did so, and saw her son clad in his working clothes, just as he used to come home every evening when he was alive. He took off his coat and hung it upon the door, an old familiar habit of his. Then he turned to her, nodded and smiled, and walked through to the back kitchen where he had been in the habit of washing before sitting down to his evening meal. It was all quite natural and lifelike. She knew that it was her dead boy who had come to show her that he was alive in the Spirit World and living a natural life, well, happy and content. Also that smile of love told her that his heart was still with the old folks at home. She is a sensible woman and I did not doubt her story for a moment. As a matter of fact, since his death he had been seen in Orford Church, Warrington Cheshire, which he used to attend, and has been seen in various places since.

There are many instances of visions of soldiers coinciding with death. In Rosa Stuart's "Dreams and Visions of the War" this case is given:

A very touching story was told me by a Bournemouth wife. Her husband, a sergeant in the Devon's Regiment, went to France on July 25th, 1915. She had received letters regularly from him, all of which were very happy and cheerful, and so she began to be quite reassured in her mind about him, feeling certain that whatsoever danger he had to face he would come safely through.

On the evening of September 25th, 1915, at about ten o'clock, she was sitting on her bed in her room talking to another girl, who was sharing it with her. The light was full on, and neither of them had as yet thought of getting into bed, so deep were they in their chat about the events of the day and the war.

And then suddenly there came a silence. The wife had broken off sharply in the middle of a sentence and sat there staring into space.

For, standing there before her in uniform, was her husband, For two or three minutes she remained there looking at him, and she was struck by the expression of sadness in his eyes. Getting up quickly she advanced to the spot where he was standing, but by the time she had reached it the vision had disappeared.

Though only that morning the wife had had a letter saying her husband was safe and well, she felt sure that the vision foreboded evil. She was right. Soon afterwards she received a letter from the War Office, saying that he had been killed in the Battle of Loos on September 25th, 1915, the very date she had seemed to see him stand beside her bed.

A deeper mystical side of the visions of the Great War centres round the "Angels of Mons." Mr. Arthur Machen, the well-known London journalist, wrote a story telling how English bowmen from the field of Agincourt intervened during the terrible retreat from Mons. But he stated afterwards that he had invented the incident. But here, as so often before, truth proved fiction to be a fact, or at least facts of a like character were reported by a number of credible witnesses. Mr. Harold Begbie published a little book," On the Side of the Angels," giving much evidence, and Mr. Ralph Shirley, editor of the OCCULT REVIEW (London), followed with "The Angel Warriors at Mons," in which he added to Mr. Begbie's testimony.

A British officer, replying to Mr. Machen in the London EVENING NEWS (September 14, 1915), mentions that he was fighting at Le Cateau on August 26, 1914, and that his division retired and marched throughout the night of the 26th and during the 27th. He says:

On the night of the 27th I was riding along in the column with two other officers. We had been talking and doing our best to keep from falling asleep on our horses.

As we rode along I became conscious of the fact that, in the fields on both sides of the road along which we were marching, I could see a very large body of horsemen. These horsemen had the appearance of squadrons of cavalry, and they seemed to be riding across the fields and going in the same direction as we were going, and keeping level with us.

The night was not very dark, and I fancied that I could see the squadron of these cavalrymen quite distinctly.

I did not say a word about it at first, but I watched them for about twenty minutes. The other two officers had stopped talking.


At last one of them asked me if I saw anything in the fields. I then told him what I had seen. The third officer then confessed that he, too, had been watching these horsemen for the past twenty minutes.

So convinced were we that they were really cavalry that, at the next halt, one of the officers took a party of men out to reconnoitre, and found no one there. The night then grew darker, and we saw no more.

The same phenomenon was seen by many men in our column. Of course, we were all dog-tired and overtaxed, but it is an extraordinary thing that the same phenomenon should be witnessed by so many people.

I myself am absolutely convinced that I saw these horsemen; and I feel sure that they did not exist only in my imagination. I do not attempt to explain the mystery, I only state facts.

This evidence sounds good, and yet it must be admitted that in the stress and tension of the great retreat men's minds were not in the best condition to weigh evidence. On the other hand, it is at such times of hardship that the psychic powers of man are usually most alive.

A profound aspect of the World War is involved in the consideration that the war on earth is but one aspect of unseen battles on higher planes where the powers of Good and Evil are engaged. The late Mr. A. P. Sinnett, a prominent Theosophist, deals with this question in an article entitled "Super-Physical Aspects of the War." *

* THE OCCULT REVIEW, December 1914, p. 346.

My Hell In A Haunted House

 

It was around August in 2007, and my mom and I just bought a beautiful, two bedroom house that had been around since the late 1800's, she insisted on moving in, but something about the house just put a shiver down my spine.

I remember the day mom showed me the house, yes, it was very beautiful, it was white, with a red door, and blue shudders. As soon as I stepped on the lawn, my conscious was telling me to turn back.

So I just stayed still, not moving and my mom said, "Honey, come on!" But still yet I didn't move, she then came up to me and shook my shoulder a little and I just fell to the ground, then my mom kneeled down and asked me if I was alright, I nodded my head yes, and told her that I wasn't feeling to hot, so we just went home. I didn't even step into the house, and I knew that it was evil.

I tried telling my mom about my feelings toward the house, but her heart was set on it, I kept on telling her, not to, and not to, but she just ignored me and told me I was just being silly, and letting my imagination get to me.

So she finally bought the house, and my heart just sank. It was moving day, and the ride to the house only took a good 30 minutes. As soon as we parked in the driveway, I felt that feeling in my stomach, that feeling you get before you're about to ride a roller costar, but instead of the excitement part, I felt the fear.

My mom walked to the front door, the key in her hands. She just couldn't wait to get in the house. We reached the door, and she pulled her hand out, the key going in the lock, then she thrust herself toward the door, but just ended up, running into it, she said, "hmp, that's funny?" I just ignored her and then suddenly the door creaked open by itself. My moms eyes got a little big, then she shook her head lightly and said, "Just the wind."

I remember walking in, and feeling the cold breeze from inside the house hit my face. My mom shivered and said something about how cold it was, and I just stood there, my bags cringed in my hands.

She then walked to a hallway near the right of us, where a bathroom lay on one side, and my room lay on the other. She grabbed the door knob, and opened the door. I followed quickly not wanting to be in one room alone. She looked around the room, me now in the door way, it was even colder in this room. She smiled and said, "Oh, It's cute! Perfect for friends and hanging out!" I sighed and think I said something like, "if I make any friends," or something like that. She looked at me, and gave me her, Kit, just try and get used to it, look. I just looked away, and she closed the door, leaving me all alone in that cold room, that gave me nightmares for months.

The months flew by and I wasn't making any friends. Schoolwork was getting unfinished, and I began to get stuck in the same, old rut. I remember crying almost every night. It was like hell for me; every night lying too my mom and telling her things at school were great and hiding detention slips. I had only lived in the house for a month or so and already felt depressed. I kept on complaining to my mom of what the house was doing, but she just normally tuned me out, not seeing any of the changes. I just felt like there was nothing I could do.

I remember this night vividly, I was sitting in my room, listening to music, and then I heard a slight scratch from somewhere. I looked around the room, and just continued what I was doing, and then I heard it again. So I just got up and turned my music even up even louder. I sat down on my bed and out of no where, my stereo, pushed to the side of my dresser and fell to the floor all by itself. I screamed and called for my mom, but when she tried to open the door, it became stuck, and there was no way for her to get in.

She started yelling about something, but I couldn't hear her, I was too busy screaming and crying. It was like the devil himself was doing this just to amuse himself. Then the door flung open and my mom came in looking at me with wide eyes. I was on the floor, my back against the side of my bed, crying in my arms. She just held me and I kept on repeating, "We have to get out of this house!" over and over again. She just kept me in her arms and told me that it was alright, her eyes then narrowed toward my stereo, that was smashed on the ground, then she screamed, "What the hell happened here?" I just lay there on the floor not moving and then she just came up to me and we sat there for about an hour, sitting in the cold room.

Later on that night I was about to take a shower when I saw a red mark, near the side of my arm. I turned around and looked at my back, where scratches took over, there were six or seven big scratches that looked new, fresh. I then called for my mom and she came in the bathroom, one of her hands covering part on her mouth, she then told me to get dressed and grab my stuff. I did as I was told and packed up my things quickly, only grabbing a few things. She then opened the front door, and we left the house.

We stayed with my aunt for the rest of the week, and left the house, which was fine by me, but from this day, whenever I think about the house it sends shivers down my spine! I never want to set foot, in that house again.

A few months after we moved out we learned that there was a family of devil worshipers that lived there years before us. There was a little girl that had came up to the house one day, asking providence for her church and the family went mad and hung the little girl in their living room, putting candles around her hanging corpse. The family then left the country after that. I myself find this story, very interesting, and I wonder if it was the little girl's Spirit haunting me, through those past months.

Contributed by "revengeXgurl" 2008 True Ghost Tales.

Theodor Prinz Ghost 1900

Ghost on the left in a Beer cellar

Picture taken in December 1981 looks as if the spectre is closing its arms around the person.

This photograph was taken with an old-styled Polaroid land camera in 1959 at a location on north Damen Ave. Chicago. USA. which no longer exists. It shows a real girl standing on the stairs and this strange mist-like substance which seems to be exuding from her stomach region and collecting along the entire stairway. Some parts are translucent while others seem visually opaque. This may be a psychic photograph; in other words ectoplasm being produced by a living person. Externalization of thought.

Additional new information: A recent email from the person in the picture sheds more light on this most unusual picture.

"My parents had bought a real old Mansion that had been turned into a roomy house at that time. The rooming house was located on Damen Ave across the street from Wicker Park in Chicago. USA. There were all kinds of stories about things in that old Mansion. Someone had hung themselves in the basement a long time before we bought the Mansion. The basement had a dirt floor it was so old. The dress I was wearing was found in a old trunk in the basement. It had been left there by a women who did an old vaudeville act. My mother used to let me play with lots of old stuff that I found in that old building. There were secret passages, going from a room to another room. It was a very interesting place to live."

 

 

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