Get a copy of my ghost book or my novel for someone (or yourself) for Christmas!!
Get a copy of my ghost book or my novel for someone (or yourself) for Christmas!!
I was recently asked to be a guest on “The Calling” radio show to talk about the book and my life of hauntings. Click the link below to hear the show.
Hello everyone. The ebook is now available. Now you can read the complete story of my haunted life.
With over 100 pages of stories of my personal experiences, and lots of color photos, I was able to easily download and incorporate the book into my Kindle device. For those of you who like hard copies, it’s easy to print as well.
The price is only $10!
Just go to https://www.paypal.com to order. When ready to place your order, the account name is Andrew.firstname.lastname@example.org. Please make sure to include your email address while ordering so I can send your copy right away.
I hope you enjoy reading it more than I have enjoyed living it.
Hi! This is the Most Haunted Man in America. I will soon be making available my ebook on my haunted life. It should be available online in a very short time. As a follower of my Facebook
page, I would like to send you a free sample chapter from the book. If you would like a copy of the sample chapter, shoot me your email address and I will send it off asap. Enjoy!
Back in the late 1990’s, I decided to go back to take a look at the first house in Seattle where the hauntings began. I had not been back to that house since we left there in 1969.
I did it partly to confront my fears, partly to try to exorcise the bad memories that had haunted me (no pun intended) all the years since.
But I will have to admit that part of me was just plain curious.
When I got to the house, I sat there a while outside at the curb just staring at it. A lot of memories came flooding back about the neighborhood and all my friends and the fun we had playing after school. But I was also flooded with the memories of being terrified as the house became a living nightmare every night once darkness set in.
After a while I finally got up the nerve to go and ring the doorbell. I realized I could very well end up sounding like some kind of a nut, but I just HAD to ask the present occupant if he had ever experienced anything strange in the house. So, I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
Now, I knew from researching the old Seattle City Directories that the house had an unusually high turnover rate. No one person or family had EVER lived in that house for more than a few years at most since the 1950’s. So, while making small talk I asked him how long he had been living in the house.
“About two years.”
I finally got around to asking him the question I really wanted to ask. I told him I knew this might sound very strange but that I had spent a year in the house in the Sixties and I was wondering… had he ever experienced anything strange in the house?
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like… (here goes) ghostly experiences?”
I will never forget his answer as he looked me straight in the eye.
“You BET I have.”
He then went on to explain the same types of things we experienced back in 1968. Footsteps walking up and down the hall at night, doors opening by themselves, lights going on and off at all hours. And the voices.
After we talked a while, I finally thanked him for his time and got in the car and drove the two hours home.
One of the first places I went after I got home was to see my Dad and my brother Tim, who both worked at the NAPA Auto Supply store in Selah, WA. I told them all about what the present renter had said and showed them some pictures I had taken of the house. Very soon after that visit, Tim and Dad began to have unexplainable things happen at the NAPA store. And the incidents at my own home began to ramp up to a greater level. I felt as if I had brought whatever it was back with me.
Since I live about 35 miles from where I work, I have occasionally stayed the night at mom and dad’s house, to break up the commute week, or if the weather is particularly bad. During this particular time, when the hauntings were at peak level, I stayed the night at their house. Mom had gotten a fax machine so she could send and receive documents related to her genealogy research. The fax machine had a handset, in case you wanted to use it to make a call. Since mom added the extra line as a fax line, it was never in any type of phonebook, nor did anyone know the number. I didn’t even know what the number for the fax line was.
In the middle of the night, I woke up to a phone ringing. In the confusion of being half asleep, I assumed it was someone from my family calling because of an emergency. In a few moments, I realized it was the fax line ringing. As I reached for the handset, it stopped ringing. Even though I was half asleep, I had the presence of mind to dial *69 so it would read back the last number that dialed the line. I grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and wrote it down. I stuffed the piece of paper in my pants pocket and went back to bed.
The next day at work, I reached into my pocket for my keys and I came across a piece of paper. I wondered what it could be, but when I saw the phone number scribbled on it, I remembered the incident with the fax machine. So, I decided to pick up my office phone and dial it to see who would answer. Who called an unpublished, unknown fax number in my parents’ basement in the middle of the night? It rang.
“Good morning, Selah NAPA Auto Supply, can I help you?”
One time several years ago, I was heading to work very early one morning. I drove down to the stop sign at the bottom of the hill near our house.
I looked right, then left, and when the road was clear I took a left turn onto the main roadway.
As I was turning, I glanced to the left toward the little mini mart/gas station near… the corner, and my eye happened to catch glimpse of a man standing out near the gas pumps. He was wearing a full set of army fatigues and his arm was extended toward me in a wave. He was grinning at me as his head was slightly down and he was looking right at me from just under his eyebrows, smiling.
In the split second it took me to glance the other direction and then do a double take back his way, he was gone.
It was then I realized that the mini mart wasn’t even going to be open for another 2 hours.
Who was he and where did he go? And why the strange smile as he looked at me from just under his brow?
There have been many times where I have been unnerved, but as I think about it this evening, one experience stands out off the top of my head.
I have told this story before but for the sake of the person who asked, I think it’s worth retelling.
For about 10 years my wife v…olunteered at the church by producing the weekly church bulletin. She would prepare it on Saturday and my job would be to go out to the church and make a couple hundred copies and fold them, placing them on the table in the foyer for the next morning’s services.
It was only at the end of that period that the experiences began to happen to me out at the church building.
Toward the end of her volunteer term, the information needed for the bulletin was being sent to her later and later on Saturday, which caused me to have to run out to the church sometimes between ten and eleven o’clock Saturday night.
On many of those late nights I would have very odd and disturbing experiences out at the church (but those are stories for later), but this one night was the culmination of all those happenings.
While folding the copies, I began to hear footsteps walking through the sanctuary around the corner. They were in constant stride yet never seemed to be getting any closer nor going any further away. Finally, I got up and went to the sanctuary and flipped on the light.
The room was empty.
After the third time I finally stood just outside the sanctuary, waiting. I decided that as soon as I heard the footsteps again, I was going to poke my head around the corner and catch whoever it was. But the footsteps never came.
Until I sat back down in the library to fold more papers, that is.
I finally finished up and was more than happy to get out of there, and as I was leaving, I heard what sounded like footsteps following me out through the dark church foyer.
I quickly opened the door and stepped onto the front porch of the church when suddenly I felt what I can only describe as the feeling of someone sticking their foot out to trip me.
I toppled down the concrete stairs, landing on the pavement, taking the skin off my knees.
The front door of the church slammed shut behind me.
I never went back at night after that.