It's not the first time I've wondered if it is possible that a spirit could attach itself to a family. Like Kim and Tracy in the last two entries of this blog, Kim's daughter Natasha entertains the same idea. They have all had experiences dealing with the paranormal. With Kim and Tracy, it all began in Ontario. Now that Kim has moved all the way across the country to Williams Lake, B.C., those paranormal experiences have not subsided, nor have they stayed hidden from her immediate family. It seems anybody connected to Kim and Tracy becomes a believer fast enough. I, myself, haven't experienced anything with Kim out of the ordinary as of yet, but I've only been in Williams Lake for about four months, so only time will tell if I will have the honor, or the horror - however you look at it, of witnessing first hand the entity that clings to her and her family. I've been around taps that had a mind of their own, but that just about sums up my experiences.
Natasha tells a story that begins several years ago when she was a child. Although it is difficult to be certain 100% whether it is the same spirit Kim and Tracy dealt with in Ontario, there is some proof to that effect. If you've had the chance to read the last two accounts, you will understand. You can draw your own conclusions.
Here is an account from Natasha. I will not interrupt it one bit with editing - this is word for word, which is the same courtesy I extended Kim and Tracy.
I think that we never really die. I think that we either go somewhere bigger and better than our simple minds can even begin to imagine, or we stick around for whatever reasons. I can't honestly say that I know for a fact that there is a heaven, however, I can honestly say that I know that we never truly die, and perhaps some parts of us stick around long after our body has disappeared. The only reason why I say that so confidently is because of the things I have seen and heard throughout my lifetime, which is more than the average person can say. I suppose I should do my best at telling my stories in order, but it's a little difficult. I'm going to start with the things I remember as a little girl.
My mom, dad, brother, and I lived in a town house on Gibbon Street in Williams Lake, B.C. It had four floors. The basement on one, the living room, bathroom and kitchen on another. Above that was my parent's room, and then on the very top floor, with another bathroom, was my brother's and my room. I remember some things very clearly about that house. I recall how in the kitchen area, against the wall that you see as soon as you enter, my mother had porcelain masks hanging in a row. One of those masks was painted to look like a cat. It had ears and black fur around the face. I remember the smile that was painted onto its face like it is a photograph stuck in my memory. It had a very mischievous smile. Although it was a mask, every now and again when I would walk by it, I remember there being eyes staring back at me. Although it sounds a little crazy and difficult to believe, but the memories have stuck with me for fifteen years.
That's not the only thing about that house that I remember. We went through a lot of babysitters because after one night, they never wanted to return. Tamara, who lasted the longest, was cleaning our kitchen, and was moving all the chairs out of the way so she could mop. The last chair that she tried to pick up, would not be budged. She couldn't move it. I was sitting on the stairs and could hear her telling my mom "It felt like someone was sitting in it."
My brother and I used to get in trouble all the time when we were living at that house. But what stands out in my mind is when we were accused of biting on the blinds of all things. They were white and plastic and there was always little teeth marks in them, but never once were we the culprits.
Another recollection I have is when my sister Makayla was visiting for the summer. My brother and I had to share his room while she stayed in mine with one of her friends. She woke me up in the middle of the night and begged me to stay with her friend, Shay, while she took a shower. By then, everyone was starting to get used to the house, but Shay still didn't want to be alone. I was lying in the room with Shay and we were looking at a magazine, when my sister tried to come back into the room. I remember her saying: "This isn't funny guys, open the door." Shay started to panic. There was no lock on the door for us to lock, and we were across the room, nowhere near the door. The door would just not open for her.
A lot of freaky things happened in that house, from hearing people talking, to hearing them run up and down all of the stair cases. I have a tape that we left recording one night when we all went out. The house was completely empty, but on that tape that is currently sitting in a box in my bedroom, you can hear a child's voice clearly, screaming for his dad, drums being played, footsteps, and more footsteps. We didn't live there long after that. In fact, we have moved twice since then and have experienced further paranormal activity.
On one occasion, my Grandma had given us Disney character toys for Christmas. I had a Goofy toy with a string that you could pull and make his say different things. My brother got a Mickey Mouse toy that was similar. One night, after we were sent to bed, I kept hearing my brother's toy. It was repeating the words "I love you," over and over again. Figuring it was my brother playing around with it, I yelled at him to put the toy away. He told me he wasn't playing with it. Alarmed, we both started screaming for my mom. Having horrifying experiences with toys before, she was quick to take the batteries from the toy, and toss the thing into the garbage. Even then the toy still confessed it's love to whoever would listen.
In our current house, a nice house on the corner of a busy street in Williams Lake, nothing has gone on here like I have experienced before, or maybe I'm used to it by now. There is still an entity or two I'm sure. I do hear people talking in the house every other night after we have gone to bed, but I think the only two things that have happened here that have come slightly close to the things I had experienced in the other houses would be the day me and my mom got into an argument the night we were talking about my great grandmother Jean(Jessica). I don't remember what we were fighting about, but I was about to leave the house. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs and she stood at the top. Just before I was about to open the door, still screaming at my mom, a small doll that was sitting on top of a shelf by the door flew off the shelf and hit the wall on the opposite side, before hitting the floor. And I have seen a little blond boy out of the corner of my eye run around the house and vanish. Both my mother and I know who it was, but I will tell of that later.
The other little incident that I recall, involved my great grandmother, Jean. I was sewing with my mom at the kitchen table. I was asking her questions about Jean. I don't remember her very well and wanted to know more. I was asking my mother if she remembered being at my grandmother's house for a dinner. I was telling her about my only memory of Jean, and how I thought she was a scary woman. Not long after those words came out of my mouth was my hair yanked on. Mom started to laugh while I sat there kind of shocked.
My mother and my Aunt Tracy as well as other members of the 'Oliver' family tree have told me their fair share of stories and about our history. Most o the strange stories I have heard about begin on that farm, a piece of land that once had a house that my grandpa built on it. I have heard stories of other houses on that land, but not as many as I have heard about my grandpa's house.
The first time I had been there, as soon as wee pulled into the driveway, I did not feel so good. I suddenly felt upset, depressed, and just did not want to be there. That was the first time I had seen the little blond boy. I was coming out of the bathroom in the old house, and I had seen a little boy out of the corner of my eye run into a bedroom. My Grandpa told me about Alfie, the little blond boy, who was my third cousin, who drowned in a river just behind the land the farm was on.
When I left that day, my grandma gave me two candle holders with faeries on them. As much as I loved those candle holders, having them made me feel wrong. All I can say is that even after living in the townhouse that seemed to have many spirits staying there with us, I had never felt so much wrongness in a house before.
After thinking about all that I have seen and heard and felt, it makes me believe that it isn't so much the houses we have lived in, or the land the houses are set upon, but the family that is effected by apparitions. Can spirits be attached to a family? How else can you be on one side of Canada and see the same spirit on the other? Nonetheless, my family seems to share different, and the same paranormal stories. It may have come from the old farm in Ontario, but it is now linked to our family. I'm sure of it.
Natasha.
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