Don't go upstairs

Hey marshmallows =] So this is my blog on all things creepy including my own experiences as a paranormal investigator or as my husband likes to call me, live ghost bait.

[marshmallowghosthunter]

The Hall Ghost and why I don't go to my in laws house anymore

Like most young adults,my fiance and I favored spontanuity over common sense and instead of waiting for stability later in life, we eloped one Friday afternoon in February. At the time we were staying in his parents house saving up for our next move to a home of our own. One evening, while driving the back roads, we both suddenly fell silent and the car slowed to a stop. We didn't say a word to each other, but I knew he saw just as clearly as I did the glowing red eyes hovering in the woods. I started to feel light headed and was suddenly aware that I wasn't breathing and suddenly inhaled, breaking the silence thay had been buzzing in my ears and breaking me from the trance like state we had fallen into. I told Devin to keep driving and after five minutes he responded by slowly stepping on the gas, and at that moment the eyes blinked put of sight. Fast forward a week. After dinner and tucking Ky into bed, I was doing dishes, focusing on the running water and soap bubbles, something that had always comforted me. All at once, the sound of the water faded to a muted trickle and I felt as though someone was watching me. I looked up suddenly and through the window saw one of the tallest shadow figures I had ever seen in my life, complete with glowing red eyes. I choked and dropped the dish, the cracking noise breaking my gaze momentarily, my eyes snapping back to the window but it had vanished. I couldn't shake the undeniably horrible feeling that something had followed us home. I chose to ignore it, hoping that if denied attention it would vanish as easily as it had appeared. It didn’t The once happy home turned into a cold and uncomfortable metephorical prison. I refused to walk the hallway to my bedroom, instead I opted to walk the long way through the living room, dining room and then the kitchen at night. I felt a presence in the hall that never left, a harmful spirit that didn't want to share it's space. It was only then that I decided to tell Devin about the shadowy figure. He confessed that he had been waking at three in the morning to see a shadow figure standing over us as we slept, and how had had felt intense anger at all times which intensified when alone in our bedroom. He stated that he felt a simmering anger at all times, as opposed to my intense need to cry, and would snap for no reason at anyone who approached him when he was in the room or had left it recently. His parents and brother seemed to be unaffected, but ky began to demand to sleep with us at night, complaining of the man who comes up from her floor at night time and shake her bed. Her tv sporadically turned on, lights flickered and her door would slide open and close all night. Shortly afterwards I was in his parents bathroom and accidentally turned off the light on the far side of the room. Instantly I saw the dark shape of a man standing in the bathroom and I almost broke my neck trying to get out of the room as fast as I possibly could while preserving my dignity to keep ky calm while she waited for me in the other room. Not long after that we moved out of the house

[marshmallowghosthunter]

From the Yavapi Indian cemetery investigation Too detailed to be an orb in my opinion

[marshmallowghosthunter]

Yavapi Indian cemetery

My husband and I have always been interested in the paranormal. He calls me a beacon because I attract ghosts and no matter where I go there they are. For my first experience check out my haunted doll story

When we first started dating we decided to go on a ghost hunt at one of the Indian Reservation cemeteries in a town over with a friend. We brought a camera, small flash lights and some other equipment and were super excited. We explored the area that afternoon, making notes on low hanging branches, un even paths and where some graves had caved in on themselves.

While waiting for the sun to go down we chatted about what we might experience that night and where our main points of interest were from previous ghost Hunter experiences. I told them that I had a weird feeling about the grave yard and like someone had been staring at us while we had been in it earlier. They brushed it off and laughed, joking about how I was human bait and I would draw out the ghosts that night.

By the time we got back to start our investigation it was 11:30 and freezing but we were pumped so it didn’t matter much to us. My husband (boyfriend at the time) went off with his tape recorder and went to one side or the grave yard, my friend and I headed towards the opposite choosing to stay together.

I’m not exactly sure how it happened but I ended up separated and on my own, no flash light and no phone for light. I stumbled around for a bit when suddenly a black mass stood up in front of me, going up to my hip in height and dashed towards another headstone and ducked behind it. Not having much sense, I ran after it and for some reason jumped behind the same one and said “gotcha!” before it ran past me again and hid behind another one.

I was suddenly involved in some sort of hide and seek with what I can only imagine was a child, leaving my boyfriend and friend to stare at me in some sort of awe. Until the mood significantly changed. I felt cold and hollow inside and the ghost child vanished off into the darkness, leaving us to deal with a new ghost who didn’t seem as friendly as the one I had been playing with.

We asked questions and the only reply we would get was my hair being pulled on and something pinching me. We decided to leave after a bit when it became apperant all it was interested in was hurting me. As we left I felt something grab the back of my hoodie and I was suddenly being jerked backwards and into the grave yard. I had grabbed my boyfriends hand and he forcefully put me into his car and got the hell out of there.

[marshmallowghosthunter]

The Haunted Doll

I swear up and down that this story as much as it sounds like it's made up run of the mill scary doll story it is 100% true and still terrifies me. When I was a kid I would spend a lot of time in Texas with my brother dad and step mom, mainly just my brother and step mom because my dad was in the military and would frequently go on long trips leaving us alone in whatever house we happened to be living in at the time. When I was about 5 we moved to a large very old Victorian house. Three stories not including the attic and the basement, lots of rooms and as a little kid I found its very fun to explore the house. In the attic there was lots of old junk that the owner of the house was storing while we were renting it, including a huge collection of beautiful hand crafted porcelain dolls. There were hundreds of them lined up neatly on the back wall in a glass case, standing on their stands like an army ready for command and as a little girl who loved ribbons and bows and any thing girly, I was entranced. One doll in particular stood out to me, a beautiful red hair green eyed doll in a blue silk dress with a matching ribbon in her hair. I begged my dad to let me play with her, I felt the need to hold and love her and have tea parties with. He of course refused, saying that the dolls were worth more than I could imagine and he wanted his deposit back when we moved. He kept the door locked for good measure after catching me more than once staring in awe at the doll. A month went by and I had all but forgotten about the doll, choosing to simply explore the house and play in my basement room with my barbies. Until one day when I came home from dropping my dad off at the base and found the red haired doll sitting on my bed. I was ecstatic thinking that my dad had given me the doll and left it as a surprise and proceeded to play with the doll every second of every day until my dad came home. As soon as my dad saw the doll he flipped out and yelled at me, spanked me and took the doll away to lock back up in the attic and only got more aggravated when he discovered that the attic door was still locked and her was the only one to have the key. He couldn't figure out how I could have possibly picked the lock and the re picked it to lock it. His solution was I had somehow convinced my brother to do it for me. Another month went by and my dad installed another lock on the attic, warning me and my brother what would happen if he's found out we had been in the attic again while he was gone. That very night when we returned home the doll sat on my bed again, leaving me wary of its presence. Something that had once made me so happy now made me cautious and anxious. I told my step mom who immediately became angry and slapped me then my brother and tried to return the doll only to find the attic door once again locked. She tore the house apart trying to find the keys she was positive we had hidden until giving up and locking the doll in her room. The night my dad came home I was terrified and her wouldn't speak to me or my brother at all. Only giving a short speech about how we needed to go to our rooms and not come out. The next trip he made we didn't see him off to the base, we sat in our rooms and had a quiet evening alone. I spent the night sulking and trying to figure out how the doll had gotten into my room. Later, after I had fallen asleep, I heard soft music Box music that slowly woke me up. I felt something near my feet and thinking it was my cat curled up I reached down only to find instead of fur, a handful of hair. I turned my light on and screamed. What looked like every dollar from there attic was in my room. Sitting at my tea table, on my doll house, and positioned in standing position on my bed and in various parts of my room. My door slammed open and my dad appeared in their doorway where he had apparently been waiting for me to head to the attic to claim a doll. He took one look at them, grabbed me and ran out of the house dragging my brother and step mom along with us. He refuses to speak of them to this day. The most important part of this story is the back story of the red haired doll. Apparently the original builder and owner of the house had a daughter who died when she was about 8,and it was customary to make a doll of their likeness made out of their real hair and dressed in the same clothes the child wore. I think it was that little girl, because I never felt like it was dangerous to play with the doll. I felt like she was lonely and trying to make a friend.