The Fax Machine

Several years ago, right after I came back from my trip to the old Seattle house, things started happening at an accelerated rate.

One of the first places I went when I got back was to the auto parts store were my brother Tim was managing, and my dad was still working part-time as a semi-retired parts man. I told them what I had found out. Right after that, strange things began to happen at the parts store. There were several instances where dad or Tim would tell me of things they could not explain. I know they wondered if I had brought something back with me from the old house in Seattle. (See the August 4th post).

Since I work in a city about 35 miles from home, I occasionally stay the night with my parents during the week (since they live near where I work)  in order to save on gas and wear and tear on the car.

One night I had quite a surprise.

I was sleeping in mom and dad’s basement. In the bedroom/office, they had a fax machine that they had hooked up to a separate phone line. Since the line was a fax line, it was not published in the phone book and nobody knew they had a fax machine. Therefore, it would be virtually impossible for anyone to know the number.

At 2 am, I was awakened by the sound of a phone ringing in the room where I was sleeping. I was a bit ticked off by the phone ringing, but wondering if it was an emergency from home, I got up and realized what was ringing was the phone part of that fax machine. I answered it.

Silence.

I hung up the phone, kind of ticked off at someone’s wrong number call in the middle of the night, but something in the back of my mind told me to jot down the number. I called *69 and it read back to me the number that had just called. I wrote it down and shoved the paper into my pants pocket. Then I promptly went back to sleep and forgot all about it.

Until the next morning.

During the day at work, I reached into my pocket for my keys and I found the note. I pulled it out and remembered the night’s events. So, I decided to call the number and see who answered.

Ring…ring… “Hello, Auto Parts Store. How can I help you?”

It was the store where dad and Tim worked.

About mosthauntedman

In 1968, at the age of 7, Andrew Paschen's family began what was to become a lifetime of hauntings. To this day, the hauntings have never stopped. Although his extended family members still have experiences from time to time, his have continued on a regular basis. He may be America's Most Haunted Man.
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