Whispers of the Supernatural

I love to hear stories of the supernatural, especially when I’m sitting with a group of friends and we’re trading tales. Can’t get enough of them. And the chill that scurries across my shoulders and down my back? I just draw in a shaky breath and scoot closer to the storyteller.

Did you think I’d look behind me? No way! ;)

And you know what? Almost everyone I’ve asked, even a skeptic or two, has a story in which they can’t explain the appearance of the misty figure in their bedroom…or a premonition they had…or even a dream where a loved one, who has already passed on, visits them in order to tell them something (or to comfort them).

This may be why I’m drawn to reading and writing about the supernatural. Because on some level, we do tend to relate to the stories, even if that connection is when you’ve walked into a room and spun around because you swore someone else was in there with you.

I do have so many personal stories and I’d like to share one today that I've posted before on another blog--hope you don't mind. And then, if you care to share your experiences, I’d love to read some of your tales. Oh, and by the way, this particular event has kick-started a brand-spankin' new paranormal story that I'm currently writing! Yay! :)

In July 2006, we traveled to York, England for the night, as we were to leave for Edinburgh, Scotland the next morning. (I bet most of my friends thought I was going to write York, Maine, my favorite place in the world. Ha! It’s the OTHER York. The older one. LOL)

Anyway, we’d arrived in York from London on Saturday around 6:30 p.m., which meant everything was pretty much closed, except for restaurants and pubs. So, we wandered the nearly empty streets and explored at our leisure, as darkness wouldn’t fall for a few more hours and the rain had lessened to a drizzle.

As I gathered information for a historical I was writing at the time, I stopped in the middle of the cobblestone road to admire a sign hanging outside one of the shops.

“Michele,” a voice whispered in my ear.

I glanced over my shoulder, expecting my husband to be there, waiting for me to move on. But I was alone. Huh. It wasn’t until looked in the opposite direction that I realized my DH was already 20 yards ahead of me and clearly occupied taking pictures.

Okay, I just thought I heard someone whisper my name.

So, I continued studying the buildings and did some window-shopping for a few more minutes. Then I turned in the direction of my husband, who waited for me down at the end of the street, and headed that way, ready to find a place to eat.

“Michele,” the voice whispered again. A male's voice.

I froze, but not from fear. Just curious as heck. What did the male voice want? Should I answer? Why would he get my attention, but not say anything else? Or even appear to me?

At that very moment, a ghost tour made its way down the street toward my DH. As the guide and his group passed me, he pointed to the buildings and spoke about the numerous reports of supernatural occurrences on this particular street.

Hmm, you think? All I could do was grin.



This is the street and the group gathered at the end of it is the ghost tour.

So, that’s one of my stories. I wish I knew what the voice wanted. (Or maybe there’s a connection between that York and my obsession with York, ME???? LOL)

Anyone want to share your story? A premonition? A dream? A ghost story?