At Sinister Coffee and Creamery, we love coffee, ice cream, and a good paranormal story.  You can read more about our paranormal investigations here.  Don’t forget to check out Origin Story Part One. This blog is about the experiences of one co-owner of Sinister Coffee and Creamery.

Beginnings

The truth is, I can not remember a time in my life that the paranormal wasn’t just a part of my world. From a very young age, I would tell my mom the stories of how “Teresa” would visit me at night or sit with me in the back yard when I was scared. She told me she was my guide and I was never afraid...of her. But when I was alone there were also others there. Others that made me feel scared and like I couldn’t breath. My heart is racing even now as I write this. Those “things” ( my 2 year old self called them) would tell me that I had to leave the safety of my home. That I needed to let them in. This continued even after having the house blessed when items started flying down the empty hallway and glass began breaking in empty rooms.

At age 4 we moved and things seemed to calm down. I wasn’t afraid to go into our backyard and I would often play alone for hours in the play house my dad and uncle had built for me.  For the most part things had become normal. I learned quickly not to tell my friends about the “ghosts” I had seen for fear of being made fun of or being called a liar. My parents were always supportive and would let me tell them all about what and who I saw. I think it freaked my dad out a bit but my mom had also had her share of seeing past the vale. 

A Place Outside the City

At age 7 my parents sold our home and we moved to a place outside the city. My peaceful world took a quick turn. Glass paperweights I had would fly off my shelf. I would come into my room and the door would almost lock without the ability to. Lights would flicker as I walked by. I hadn’t wanted to tell my mom that there was a boy in my room. I saw him usually out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes it would feel like he was yelling at me. I could feel his breath on my face. I had a small playroom that sat under the stairs. Inside, a small rocking couch and chair that my grandpa had built me. One day I heard someone walking up and down the stairs. When I went to see who it was, there stood the boy. He seemed angry and I felt terrified. I wasn’t able to move. Then he was gone. Suddenly I heard the door to my playroom shut. I went over and pulled it open. Sitting on my couch was a hammer. The hammer was standing upright as if it was being held there. When it fell, I saw that there was the marking from the head of the hammer burned into the fabric.

The Boy in the Bedroom

I showed my mom and talked to her about what I had been experiencing. She started talking to the neighbors about the people who had owned the place before us. It turned out that a family had a son who was developmentally disabled. He was a young adult but childlike in a lot of ways. He had been helping his dad work on the car when the jack fell, killing him instantly. His family moved shortly after. After learning his name, I began talking to him. Even though I didn’t always see him, I talked as if he were sitting next to me. I never knew if he was able to move on but nothing of mine was ever broken again during the time my family and I lived there.

Age 9

At age 9 we moved back into the city. I had been working with a spiritual guide and hypnotist friend of my parents. He had been teaching me how to block out things that scared me. Then my world was changed forever. My dad was involved in a motor vehicle accident and suffered a heart attack on scene. Shock is the best way to describe the following weeks.

Shortly after his death, the “things” that had terrified me as a young child had found their way back to my home. This time they would watch me in the glass knobs of the doors and whisper at me from the closet. I only wanted to see my dad and would ask him to visit me. I became angry when he never came. I created my own spirit board of letters and words. I had never even seen or heard of such a board so how I knew to make one is still a mystery. Then the nightmares started. I felt as if my dad was angry at me for his passing. I felt like it had somehow been my fault and that was why he wasn't talking to me. I was terrified in my sleep and when I would wake, shadows would be standing at my bed. I was afraid to sleep and I was afraid to be awake. It took many years and a lot of work to feel like I was okay. 

Coming of Age

I had been so upset and I had been trying so hard to communicate with my dad, that I opened myself up for malevolent entities. As I grew, my experiences lessoned and I no longer saw Teresa.  I still feel things and sense things that are about to happen but now my visions of the dead are more like flashes of what they show me or almost a sickening feeling in my gut. I have learned that protecting myself and those around me are important and have taken advice from healers and psychics along the way. I am drawn to places that are said to be “haunted” not because I want to be scared or for the thrill but because I want to help. I am much stronger than before. My hope is that if there is something we can do for them in their journey or give them a voice they have been missing, it was all worth it.  I no longer worry about what people think. I surround myself with people who think and believe as I do.  I am also aware of weakness and how quickly that can be prayed on by the living or the dead.  

Enjoy this story and others like it in This is my Story. Interested in who we are and what we do, find out!

Too scared to sleep? Grab yourself some of high octane Sinister Coffee and stay tuned for more ghost stories!!

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*We do not recommend any kind of investigation without proper safety measures. We also do not recommend instigating entities for fun or entertainment. We take our investigations very seriously and offer many follow ups to ensure we have left the places in better shape then we found it.