A Personal Experience By Bethlin

When I was little, my grandmother used to live in a big house on the outskirts of Paris, Texas. It was a very big, very old house, and it had its share of the usual bumps and moans that one would expect. Well, one night I was in the living room getting ready for bed. My grandmother had been in bed for almost an hour, or so I presumed. I was brushing my teeth, and the phone started ringing. I ran to answer, and when I did my grandmother's old, cracking voice came on the line, saying, "Come in the bedroom now!"

I ran down the long marble hallway as fast as my legs would carry me, and when I arrived at the bathroom, I found my grandmother's body sprawled out on the bedroom floor. I clasped her cold hands in mine, and that was when it hit me. She was dead! I ran back down the marble hallway as fast as my legs would go and I searched for the phone. Once I found it, I dialed 911. The cops and ambulance were parked in my grandmother's driveway, and I was being bombarded with questions before I even realized what happened. I recounted my story to the cops, and they told me, "Ma’am, that's not possible. There is no way you could have received a phone call from your grandmother. She's been dead for almost an hour and a half." I was stunned and confused by the night’s events, so I decided I would stay the night at home with my mother. A few months later, we sold the house and moved. I never went in that house again!