Zim's Ghostly Encounters, part two
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All right, time for the next episode, I guess. Please remember, these are all true stories.
Our family took a trip out to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming when I was around 8. That would mean my brother was 13 at the time. Well, skipping most of the boring stuff, one day is was cloudy. Not "Oh, hey, there's a few cute little clouds in the sky." These were big, mean, thunderstorm clouds that looked like there were supposed to be tornadoes and the sky was going to rain hellfire. Yes, it looked THAT bad. Weather forecast called for rain, for the next three days straight. Wouldn't THAT ruin our vacation? We were already out, and it was a fairly cold day as well, all of us needing to wear jackets. We had explored some of Yellowstone, and decided to stop for a picnic. After we ate, my parents sat down on a log and my brother and I rummaged up a huge stick. Really, it was part of a tree branch, about 3 feet long and a good 10 inches in diameter. We found some fairly dry dirt that acted kind of like sand, and my brother drew a rain cloud with a frown on it, and then he went and drew a sun with a smiley face. Honestly, took him ten minutes. He then crossed out the rain cloud, put the stick in the middle of the sun, and he and I did this fake little sun dance. Yes, we were doing the opposite of a rain dance. And, quite surprisingly, five minutes after we stopped and sat down, the sun came out. It was a quick peek, but in 15 minutes, the sky had cleared. No rain, no thunderstorms, not even little wisps of clouds. Entirely clear day. For the rest of the week. Did I mention that my brother and I are both part Native American (Sioux)?
Next story, and this one is quick., kinda. One night, our fire alarm went off. For no reason at all. All of us woke up, and my dad went to shut it off. Pressed the button to reset it - nothing. Turned the switch to shut it off - nothing. Took the batteries out, and if finally shut off. We all went back to sleep, and the next morning my mom was talking to my Aunt (Dad's sister). Well, her fire alarm went off at the same exact time. No difference, it was the same minute at night. We found out that my great-grandmother (Dad's side) had lit herself on fire while smoking a cigarette. She was sitting on a leather chair, and only she burned. Nothing else. But she had lit herself on fire at that exact moment. Freaky.
Ok, this one is fairly long. My mom was sleeping, and she was woken up by what she describes as a presence. Not an evil presence, it was good. Very good. It simply told her "He is fine, and will be happy where he is. He is all right." She went back to sleep. My grandpa (her dad) died that night. Heart attack. Well, we went to the wake, and that weekend, we went to a church retreat up in Wisconsin. When we got there, we were staying in an A-Frame (huge house, looks like an A when you look at it from the front, and it can hold a good five families inside it). Saturday morning, as we were leaving the A-Frame, we found this little bird sitting outside on the pavement. It was acting like it had a broken wing, and my mom picked it up (being an animal lover that she is) to try to save it. She examined the bird, and then we were walking to try to figure out what to do with this bird. One of the girls we went to church with was walking by as we were walking away, and she asked to see the bird. My mom tried to hand it to her, but the bird had gotten a hold of one of her rings. Seriously, her hand was upside-down, and the bird would NOT drop. So my mom used her hand to scoop it into the girl's hand. The moment the bird touched the other girl's hand, it flew away. Since we missed the funeral of my grandpa, we went that monday to go visit his grave. Engraved on his gravestone was that exact bird, same size, same shape. Did I mention that my grandpa used to raise birds (especially homing pidgeons)?
Ok, fourth story, because this is a good time to put it in. A few years later, we went to a trip to Disney World in our motor home. As we were driving back, through Indiana, my mom was driving the motor home. We were on a three lane split highway, with a nice center "valley' splitting the two directions. We were on the far left lane, and the roads were icy. That song "On the wings of a snow white dove' was playing, which reminds my mom of my grandpa. The car in front of us (little tiny sedan) slammed on it's brakes. My mom thinks quickly: Smash into car in front of us, killing all inside. Pull right through two lanes of traffic into forest. Or pull left into valley seperating the highway. Left! Well, I was walking back from the bathroom, and my dad was lying on the couchbed (not pulled out), and my brother was sleeping on the bunk above the cabin. My dad sees all this, jumps up, and yells "Oh shit!" Next thing I remember, I was standing on the fridge. Here's what really happened, which is what my brother remembers. He slid his head down to look out the windshield. Ground. Sky. Ground. Sky on right, ground on left. The motor home flipped one and a half times, and skid a good 90 feet. My mom tries to open the door, can't. She freaks, having read that a family that got trapped in their motor home died when it caught on fire, and she started smelling gasoline. My dad kicks the door open, and hands me (the youngest) out the door. Standing on the side of the motor home, looking down, there's already someone there to catch us. I jump, and he catches me perfectly fine. We all got out, when my mom starts screaming "My cats! My cats!" A truck driver gets out of his vehicle and jumps into our motor home. He comes out, holding our two cats (Sam and Sara), saying "Lady, I couldn't find your kids. I did find these cats, though." Doh! And it was on fire - the engine caught, but several truck drivers were putting it out with fire extinguishers. Cops and firemen arrived, and we were all right. Everyone survived. In any case, we got picked up by my Aunt and Uncle, and dropped off at home. When we got the motor home back, we lokoed through it, trying to see if there was anything to save. My mom found a bookmark that she had never seen before. She still has it, I forget what it says, but it is something religous, and about guardian spirits protecting you. Wierd.
By the way, the two cats. Sam lived to by 21, and was like my older brother to me. Best. Cat. Ever. Sara, who was real young at that time, lived to be 17, and died two months ago.
Our family took a trip out to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming when I was around 8. That would mean my brother was 13 at the time. Well, skipping most of the boring stuff, one day is was cloudy. Not "Oh, hey, there's a few cute little clouds in the sky." These were big, mean, thunderstorm clouds that looked like there were supposed to be tornadoes and the sky was going to rain hellfire. Yes, it looked THAT bad. Weather forecast called for rain, for the next three days straight. Wouldn't THAT ruin our vacation? We were already out, and it was a fairly cold day as well, all of us needing to wear jackets. We had explored some of Yellowstone, and decided to stop for a picnic. After we ate, my parents sat down on a log and my brother and I rummaged up a huge stick. Really, it was part of a tree branch, about 3 feet long and a good 10 inches in diameter. We found some fairly dry dirt that acted kind of like sand, and my brother drew a rain cloud with a frown on it, and then he went and drew a sun with a smiley face. Honestly, took him ten minutes. He then crossed out the rain cloud, put the stick in the middle of the sun, and he and I did this fake little sun dance. Yes, we were doing the opposite of a rain dance. And, quite surprisingly, five minutes after we stopped and sat down, the sun came out. It was a quick peek, but in 15 minutes, the sky had cleared. No rain, no thunderstorms, not even little wisps of clouds. Entirely clear day. For the rest of the week. Did I mention that my brother and I are both part Native American (Sioux)?
Next story, and this one is quick., kinda. One night, our fire alarm went off. For no reason at all. All of us woke up, and my dad went to shut it off. Pressed the button to reset it - nothing. Turned the switch to shut it off - nothing. Took the batteries out, and if finally shut off. We all went back to sleep, and the next morning my mom was talking to my Aunt (Dad's sister). Well, her fire alarm went off at the same exact time. No difference, it was the same minute at night. We found out that my great-grandmother (Dad's side) had lit herself on fire while smoking a cigarette. She was sitting on a leather chair, and only she burned. Nothing else. But she had lit herself on fire at that exact moment. Freaky.
Ok, this one is fairly long. My mom was sleeping, and she was woken up by what she describes as a presence. Not an evil presence, it was good. Very good. It simply told her "He is fine, and will be happy where he is. He is all right." She went back to sleep. My grandpa (her dad) died that night. Heart attack. Well, we went to the wake, and that weekend, we went to a church retreat up in Wisconsin. When we got there, we were staying in an A-Frame (huge house, looks like an A when you look at it from the front, and it can hold a good five families inside it). Saturday morning, as we were leaving the A-Frame, we found this little bird sitting outside on the pavement. It was acting like it had a broken wing, and my mom picked it up (being an animal lover that she is) to try to save it. She examined the bird, and then we were walking to try to figure out what to do with this bird. One of the girls we went to church with was walking by as we were walking away, and she asked to see the bird. My mom tried to hand it to her, but the bird had gotten a hold of one of her rings. Seriously, her hand was upside-down, and the bird would NOT drop. So my mom used her hand to scoop it into the girl's hand. The moment the bird touched the other girl's hand, it flew away. Since we missed the funeral of my grandpa, we went that monday to go visit his grave. Engraved on his gravestone was that exact bird, same size, same shape. Did I mention that my grandpa used to raise birds (especially homing pidgeons)?
Ok, fourth story, because this is a good time to put it in. A few years later, we went to a trip to Disney World in our motor home. As we were driving back, through Indiana, my mom was driving the motor home. We were on a three lane split highway, with a nice center "valley' splitting the two directions. We were on the far left lane, and the roads were icy. That song "On the wings of a snow white dove' was playing, which reminds my mom of my grandpa. The car in front of us (little tiny sedan) slammed on it's brakes. My mom thinks quickly: Smash into car in front of us, killing all inside. Pull right through two lanes of traffic into forest. Or pull left into valley seperating the highway. Left! Well, I was walking back from the bathroom, and my dad was lying on the couchbed (not pulled out), and my brother was sleeping on the bunk above the cabin. My dad sees all this, jumps up, and yells "Oh shit!" Next thing I remember, I was standing on the fridge. Here's what really happened, which is what my brother remembers. He slid his head down to look out the windshield. Ground. Sky. Ground. Sky on right, ground on left. The motor home flipped one and a half times, and skid a good 90 feet. My mom tries to open the door, can't. She freaks, having read that a family that got trapped in their motor home died when it caught on fire, and she started smelling gasoline. My dad kicks the door open, and hands me (the youngest) out the door. Standing on the side of the motor home, looking down, there's already someone there to catch us. I jump, and he catches me perfectly fine. We all got out, when my mom starts screaming "My cats! My cats!" A truck driver gets out of his vehicle and jumps into our motor home. He comes out, holding our two cats (Sam and Sara), saying "Lady, I couldn't find your kids. I did find these cats, though." Doh! And it was on fire - the engine caught, but several truck drivers were putting it out with fire extinguishers. Cops and firemen arrived, and we were all right. Everyone survived. In any case, we got picked up by my Aunt and Uncle, and dropped off at home. When we got the motor home back, we lokoed through it, trying to see if there was anything to save. My mom found a bookmark that she had never seen before. She still has it, I forget what it says, but it is something religous, and about guardian spirits protecting you. Wierd.
By the way, the two cats. Sam lived to by 21, and was like my older brother to me. Best. Cat. Ever. Sara, who was real young at that time, lived to be 17, and died two months ago.
Freaky, but nice.