The Haunting Of Parnell House

"The Haunting Of Parnell House"

by

Janet Palaggi

Back in the 70's you were looked upon strangely for believing in ghosts.

It is good to know that society or at least a big part of the world now believe in ghosts or have had an experience themselves. I am one of those people. The woman in my family are what you would call sensitives. We pick up very easily on ghostly energies, (we are also a bit psychic, but then again most people are they just don't know it).

When I was 8, my family moved into a beautiful red brick Georgian home. It had an addition on the back that the owner built to accommodate his growing family, three girls. He went so far as to put a vanity in the girls' bedroom, which I'll go into later. One night I had gone with my father to clean up for the move the next day. I was sitting playing with my barbies when I heard a squeaking noise coming from upstairs. I ran and told my father and we went to investigate. Upon entering the last bedroom, there in the far corner was a wheel chair! My heart was pounding and like any father trying to put his daughters nerves to rest and not wanting to scare me, said  "It's probably a mouse."  That did not ease my nerves as I remember trying to decide what I should be more afraid of, a mouse or a ghost?  I went back to playing, he went back to cleaning, and then I saw a dark wet puddle at the foot of the stairs, again I called out to my father, he came in and said it must be rust stain or something. So, I'm not feeling right about this house, but my mother was so happy she had found it, I did not want to spoil her happiness, besides I was not too alarmed as I had always been interested in the stories my mother and grandmother told us had happened to them, and was told I would more than likely be open to it like the rest of the woman in the family. I just did not expect it at the age of 8. That same night as we were leaving I looked back at the house and saw the light in the front room turn itself off. I told my dad but by the time he looked it was on again. We got into the car and looked again, the light went off! My father saw it that time and told me, it was probably on a timer. Only thing is I don't remember seeing any lamps or timers in any part of the house as we had not even moved in yet.

A few months after settling in my sister was combing her hair getting ready for school, I was sitting on the bed, and she let out a blood curdling scream, threw her brush in the sink and ran out of the room, leaving me sit there paralyzed. I later found out, when she was brushing her hair she looked up into the mirror and saw a pair of old lady eyes staring at her. She would not go back in that room for a long while.
When my grandparents, who also lived with us questioned the landlord about the wheel chair, and he said it belonged to his mother Bernice, (the girls' grandmother). He went on to explain that his mother had been in a wheel chair the ladder part of her life, and not being used to it, rolled down the stairs, splitting her head open at the bottom of the stairwell, and broke her neck. She passed away in that exact spot, you guested it, right where I saw the dark stain my father has assumed was rust. That spot had mysteriously disappeared before we moved in the next day.

A few weeks later I was sick and resting on the couch when I saw the front door partially open and saw a man's hand on the door knob, opened part way and it just froze, with his hand still on the knob, the door then swung all the way open out of his hand and then slammed shut! The noise was deafening and loud enough to wake my parents. They, along with my grandparents came running into the room, I told them what had just happened, and my father went outside and saw a man running down the street, very, very, fast! From that point on I was not afraid of this old woman named Bernice. I actually felt  a bit safer having her around.
We all did. 

Many, many, "occurrences" happened in that house, unexplained laughing, crying, rattling of pans on the stove. Someone would just say aloud, "It's okay Bernice" and whatever was happening at the time, would stop. Once my mother came all the way upstairs because she heard laughing, she assumed it was my sister and I, we were supposed to be asleep, and we were!

Today I know it was and maybe still is, an intelligent haunting. Bernice was not harmful in any way, and we think she liked having girls back in the house. She was always trying and succeeding in making contact with whomever would be open to her.

©Janet Palaggi

2011

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