Frightening Friday-Collecting #Ouija #paranormal

Photo courtesy of felinebird via Flickr

Mainstream religions (and some occultists) associate the use of Ouija boards with demonic possession, opening portals, and an invitation to evil spirits.

I like Ouija boards. There. I said it. My head didn't spin around or anything. I don't know when I became fascinated with them, nor do I remember where I acquired mine. According to eBay, it's an antique. 

The last time I "played" with my Ouija board was in high school. Our school theatre was reportedly haunted, as all good theatres are. One rumor stated a student hung herself in the dressing room and could be seen over your shoulder when you gazed in the dressing room mirror. Another stated a student committed suicide in one of the bathrooms, which explained why the showers turned on and off by themselves. Yet a third rumor stated a student died on-stage and now sat in the audience to watch rehearsals. Sometimes, you could see their shadow in one of the seats. 

When we asked the teachers for details on these deaths, they were vague. The school was over a hundred-and-fifty years old, they'd say, it probably had many buried secrets. Why would we want to dig up anything so macabre? Well, we'd argue, because we've seen some weird things and want to know if the rumors were true. Unfortunately, we were dismissed with the excuse they weren't allowed to speak of such things. 

But theatre students are persistent. And when word got out that I owned an Ouija board, well...sorry Mr. B. When you thought your cast of Midsummer Night's Dream were rehearsing, we were calling upon spirits of the dead in the dressing room.

Fast forward to years later. Would I "play" with an Ouija board now? Probably not. While I don't feel the board itself is dangerous, the invitation may be. I'm still undecided on whether the board is a tool of divination or the subconscious at work. Regardless, I don't dabble. I collect paraphernalia because it still holds a fascination. I have several T-shirts, a blanket, necklaces, earrings, sunglasses, hair clips, a pair of socks, a business card holder, cellphone case, wallet, mug, spatula, computer sleeve and even a pair of undies.

However, the Ouija board I used in high school is in the attic. My teens keep bugging me to dig it out so they can look at it, but I'm reluctant. The board holds secrets. Secrets of what a group of high school kids contacted in that haunted theatre, years ago. Secrets of what should have stayed buried. Secrets we probably didn't need to know.

And secrets that, for now, will stay in my attic.

#Paranormal Wednesday - Strays from the Spirit World

I’ve always been a half-way house for every stray animal that roams the neighborhood. There was a time, before kids and my husband, that I housed no less than twenty cats. Sad, but true. The downtown area I lived had a huge stray problem and for some reason, they always ended up on my back porch. I worked hard to assure they had proper veterinary care, and yes, it helped that I was in the veterinary field.

Nowadays, with my kiddos and husband, I seem to get less strays coming my way. Different neighborhood, I suppose, but we do get them. There’s the four pound cat that followed my husband to his car after work, a goldfish with a defective swim-bladder that needed to be hand fed, freshwater crabs that came to us as ex-classroom pets, a dog that had been chained in someone’s back yard for years and hadn't the slightest idea of what “inside” meant, an iguana that had broken every bone in her body because she was fed iceberg lettuce for years, the list goes on.

But what about attracting strays when it comes to writing? Is that possible? I've talked before how my paranormal novel BETWEEN came to me. I was working on my fantasy series when I was hit by two characters that didn't belong. Though I kept setting them aside, they wouldn't leave me alone and seemed determined that I write their story. Which I did. In retrospect, the novel came “out of the blue.”

This gives me pause for thought. Can writers attract “strays” when it comes to the spirit world? Is that possible? We’re open to ideas and thoughts and commit them on paper. Given that there are probably many people in history with stories to tell, would it not make sense that the spirit world would take advantage of that? I guess we’ll never know but it’s certainly up for debate.

Guest Author: Keith Yatsuhashi Takes You on a Journey

KOJIKI

by Keith Yatsuhashi

When eighteen-year-old Keiko Yamada’s father dies unexpectedly, he leaves behind a one way ticket to Japan, an unintelligible death poem about powerful Japanese spirits and their gigantic, beast-like Guardians, and the cryptic words: “Go to Japan in my place. Find the Gate. My camera will show you the way.”

Alone and afraid, Keiko travels to Tokyo, determined to fulfill her father’s dying wish. There, beneath glittering neon signs, her father’s death poem comes to life. Ancient spirits spring from the shadows. Chaos envelops the city, and as Keiko flees its burning streets, her guide, the beautiful Yui Akiko, makes a stunning confession--that she, Yui, is one of a handful of spirits left behind to defend the world against the most powerful among them: a once noble spirit now insane. Keiko must decide if she will honor her father’s heritage and take her rightful place among the gods.

Excerpt

“The Aokigahara Jukai,” Yui said, as if coming to some decision. “That’s where we’ll go. My father put a Gate there. We should be able to lose Fiyorok in its magnetic storms.” She pointed toward the vast forest in the West. “It’s further than the Gate I wanted, but it’s the only place I know that confounds Fiyorok’s Searching.”

“How far?” Keiko croaked.

The fires had reached Shibuya—close enough to feel their heat, close enough to hear the screaming. The famed crossing in front of Shibuya subway station collapsed. Smoke soared up through the breach, a flaming pillar rising within. Red-golden scales glittered at its base. Keiko held her breath as she watched Fiyorok rise from the ground in a sphere of incandescent fire.

“Far enough,” Yui said, her voice tight. She turned their shield to the Southwest and accelerated. Behind them, Fiyorok lifted its head and bayed like some monstrous wolf. Windows shattered and neon tubes exploded.

Keiko was glad she couldn’t see the carnage up close. People died there, probably many. Those who survived would carry their wounds with them for the rest of their lives—both the physical and the psychological. Her heart went out to them and their families, just as it had when the monster first appeared. She wished she could do something—anything—to help. But she was small, insignificant—a lone leaf in a hurricane.

Buy links

Musa Publishing

*Musa Publishing is celebrating the one-month release anniversary of Keith Yatsuhashi's second book, Torii, with a special promotion for Musa Publishing readers! Torii is free, but with the coupon code e80d707f85, you can get Keith's first book, Kojiki, 50% off! Just purchase both books together on Musa's website, and apply the code at checkout. This offer will run until February 12.

Amazon Ebook
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Author Bio

Keith Yatsuhashi was born in 1965 in Boston, MA. He graduated from Northeastern University in 1989 and is currently the Director of the U.S. Department of Commerce Export Assistance Center in Providence, Rhode Island.

Keith was a competitive figure skater for ten years, winning the U.S. National Junior Dance Championships in 1984, a bronze medal in the 1983 World Junior Figure Skating Championships, and a silver medal in 1984.

In addition to his love of writing, Keith enjoys many hobbies such as golf, reading, and playing football and hockey with his sons. Keith currently lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Kathleen and three children—Caitlin, Jeffrey, and Justin.

Welcome to the 2013 October Coffin Hop

**Please visit my fellow Coffin Hoppers at the end of this post!
All profits from the sale of DEATH BY DRIVE-IN will be donated to LitWorld.org

The Story of Red
by Clarissa Johal

Halloween. It's the time when spirits come out to play. A time when the veil becomes thin and spirits can cross over at will.
Do you believe is ghosts? I'm going to tell you a ghost story, because it's what I do.

It was October of 2002 and I was pregnant with my second child. In my last trimester, I was carrying an extra 25 extra pounds, had morning sickness 24/7, and was almost ready to give up on my 2-year-old's social life. That's when I met Angie. Fun and free-spirited, Angie was also pregnant, and had a 2-year-old with boundless energy. We hit it off immediately. She and her husband had just moved into the area, and bought a beautiful old house from the 1920s. The house had been for sale as a fixer-upper for months. I'd driven by it several times, and when she invited me over, I was excited to finally see the inside.

The moment I stepped through the front door, I saw an old man standing by the window. I knew technically he wasn't there, because what I was seeing...was a ghost.

Let me explain how seeing a ghost goes--at least for me. You don't see with your eyes, but rather with a corner of your brain which slams an image into your thoughts. And there it stays, unlike any other. Does that sound weird? C'est la vie. It is what it is.

So, back to my story. The ghost stood facing the window, his head bowed. Light passed through him and washed out all color. He wore solid pants with a thin belt, a checkered, button-up shirt, and dress shoes. The sorrow and sadness radiating from him was overwhelming. Every time I visited Angie, he'd be there. Same position, same clothes, and seemingly stuck in a world of his own.
And essentially, I guess he was.

I pondered on whether or not to bring the subject of him up. Our friendship was new, and I realize that some people got weirded-out discussing these things. But as time passed, I was distracted by the old man's presence. It felt rude not to acknowledge him. Kind of like I was ignoring another person in the room.

Finally, I decided to broach the subject. The conversation went like this:

"Angie, do you ever see an old man in your house?"
"No, I haven't."
"Do you believe in ghosts? Because I kind of feel like you have one."
"There was an old man who died in this house before we bought it," she said. "How weird! Describe him to me."
And I did.
"Do you get a name?" she asked.
Up until that point, I hadn't. But as soon as she asked, the name "Red" slammed into my thoughts pretty hard. "Red?" I repeated, unsure.
Angie's eyes widened. She jumped up and began to rummage through a drawer in her kitchen. "His name is in here," she said. "Oh, my God, I have to show you." After several minutes, she pulled out some papers.
To my surprise, Red was the nickname of the man who died in the house. He was a WWII war veteran, and never quite recovered from his experience. He lived with his daughter until the day he died, apparently not speaking a word after returning from Germany.
I was kind of overwhelmed. Aside from that, I felt helpless. It made me sad that he was stuck in Angie's house--trapped by his past, and unable to move on after his death.

That experience will always stick with me. Up until then, I hadn't trusted myself when it came to supernatural happenings. The things I saw and experienced while growing up, had been categorized as "weird stuff" that could logically be explained away.

So, do you believe in ghosts now? Does this count as evidence of the existence of ghosts? No, because you don't know me, and I may be making it all up.
Except that I'm not.

Speaking of supernatural happenings, take a look at...

BETWEEN 

How far would you go to redeem yourself?

As a young girl, Lucinda was able to see spirits, a gift that didn't come without its problems. Now, a dedicated young veterinarian, she is committed to the idea that every life can be saved.

After a devastating accident, Lucinda tries to escape her past by moving to a small town. There, she meets a newcomer and feels an immediate connection with him. But there is another mysterious stranger to the small town, one that stirs within her a mixture of unease and desire. 

As Lucinda is drawn into a bitter tug-a-war from the forces around her, she is likewise pulled into a dangerous twist of past and present events. Forced to make difficult choices, she finds that the two men are locked in not only a battle for her life...but a battle for their salvation.

*Second place in the Preditors and Editors Readers Poll 2012

Excerpt from BETWEEN

BETWEEN buy links:

Amazon.com 

Barnesandnoble.com 

Musa Publishing 

STRUCK

The shadows hadn't been waiting. The shadows had been invited. 

After a painful breakup, Gwynneth Reese moves in with her best friend and takes a job at a retirement home. She grows especially close to one resident, who dies alone the night of a terrific storm. On the way home from paying her last respects, Gwynneth is caught in another storm and is struck by lightning. She wakes in the hospital with a vague memory of being rescued by a mysterious stranger. Following her release from the hospital, the stranger visits her at will and offers Gwynneth a gift--one that will stay the hands of death. Gwynneth is uncertain whether Julian is a savior or something more sinister... for as he shares more and more of this gift, his price becomes more and more deadly.

*Coming from Musa Publishing January 17, 2014

Author Bio:

Clarissa Johal has worked as a veterinary assistant, zoo-keeper aide and vegetarian chef. Writing has always been her passion. When she’s not listening to the ghosts in her head, she’s dancing or taking photographs of gargoyles.

Clarissa shares her life with her husband, two daughters and every stray animal that darkens the doorstep. One day, she expects that a wayward troll will wander into her yard, but that hasn’t happened yet.

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PRIZE DRAWING

One ecopy of my novel BETWEEN
(and) One ecopy of COOKING WITH MUSA
Both in the format of your choice

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Prize winner will be announced on November 1st

*Please visit other Coffin Hoppers for more chances to win cool prizes.

*Coffin Hop Art by Axel Howerton: Coffin Hop Press

A Spectrum of Speculative Fiction Blog Hop

Crossing Over

by Clarissa Johal

  

Speculative fiction—crossing the line between real and the imaginary. Hypothetical story-telling.

I’m going to tell you a story. A ghost story. Whether or not it’s real doesn’t really matter because hopefully, I’ve got your attention. 

There is a house at the edge of town, a very elegant Victorian house. You know the kind I mean, one of those Victorians that looks as though it’s been decorated with lace and gumdrops. 

But this one stands empty and in disrepair. It holds a tangible air of something forgotten. In the back, there’s a doghouse that used to have a shepherd chained to it. Now there’s nothing but a few cobwebs and a scratched place in the corner where the dog tried to dig its way to freedom.

I dream of this house every couple of months, though I’ve never actually been there. A layer of dust covers the furniture and floors, it looks untouched every time I visit. For some reason, however, a fire always burns in the fireplace. There’s a part of me that feels the fire has been lit because the house knew I was coming.

There’s a ghost in this house. Oh, didn’t I tell you that? Well, there is. I’ve never seen him face to face, but I know he’s there. Waiting. 

I catch him ducking into the shadows, elusive as always. Sometimes, I feel him standing behind me, but when I turn, he’s gone.

There are times I’ve visited and done nothing but gaze into the fireplace. The ghost and I have an unspoken impasse during those dreams. The hours will tick by and neither one of us will say a word.

Other times, however, I’m overcome with fear and choose to run. He becomes quite upset and I can hear him yelling. I run up the stairs and down a long hallway lit by gas light fixtures. One of the bedrooms is small with a single window that's been boarded up. I choose that one. I hide inside the bedroom’s tiny storage closet, thinking the ghost won't be able to find me there. The closet door has uneven gaps between the wooden slats and a handle that can’t be locked from the inside.

But there is no running. He’s behind me and I’m no longer trying to keep the door closed, but trying to push it open.  I can’t seem to get my fingers to work the latch and the more I claw at the door to escape, the closer he comes. 

I wake from the dream with adrenaline coursing so strongly throughout my body that I’m quite literally in pain for several minutes.

Regardless, I keep going back to the same house. And he’s always there.

Who is this ghost? Is he a fear of something? Is he brought on by stress? I can tell you what he sounds like and what his presence feels like. I can’t however, tell you what he looks like. I can tell you what the wallpaper in the bedroom looks like. It used to be beautiful, stripes and little blue cornflowers, but time has taken it's toll. I can tell you what the fireplace looks like because I spend many hours gazing into it. I can tell you what the house looks like because I see it before I find myself standing in its living room. 

The house hasn’t changed since I first dreamed of it when I was six years old.

And neither has he.

What is real in our mind affects our perception of the world as we know it. Layers of time and emotion affect real life places. The blur between reality and our dreamworld is sometimes crossed.

Dreams figure prominently in my novels.

BETWEEN, a ghost story of a different kind.

How far would you go to redeem yourself?

As a young girl, Lucinda was able to see spirits, a gift that didn't come without its problems. Now, a dedicated young veterinarian, she is committed to the idea that every life can be saved.

After a devastating accident, Lucinda tries to escape her past by moving to a small town. There, she meets a newcomer and feels an immediate connection with him. But there is another mysterious stranger to the small town, one that stirs within her a mixture of unease and desire.

As Lucinda is drawn into a bitter tug-a-war from the forces around her, she is likewise pulled into a dangerous twist of past and present events. Forced to make difficult choices, she finds that the two men are locked in not only a battle for her life...but a battle for their salvation.

Excerpt:

A young woman stood beside the bed, anguish on her face. She looked vaguely familiar, though Lucinda couldn’t place her. The forgotten colors of her blousy dress had faded into indistinct shades of grey. The woman grasped Lucinda’s hand and pressed a key into it. Lucinda felt the jagged, metal edges pricking her skin. Somewhere in the distance, a car engine roared to life. The woman’s lips moved but the growling engine drowned out all other sound. The sound became louder.
Growling. Darwin was growling.

“Darwin?” Lucinda woke with a start.

The shepherd growled again and hopped off the bed, padding into the living room.

A quiet knock sounded from the front door. Lucinda rolled out of bed to answer it.

Pushing Darwin aside to open the door, she peered sleepily into the moonlit night. A breeze blew across the clearing, stirring the grass. Confused, she shut the door before the breeze could make its way inside.

“Come on back to bed, Darwin. Nobody there.”

As she pulled the blanket up to her chin, the knocking started again.

Lucinda slipped out of bed and walked back into the living room. The sound clearly came from the other side of the door, faint but unmistakable. She slid her hand quietly over the knob. At once, the knocking stopped. Turning the knob slowly, she pulled the door open a crack, heart pounding in her chest.

“Hello?” An icy breeze slipped by her thigh as the scent of ozone assailed her senses. Her heart beat erratically. “Darwin, no!” The dog tried to push past her, growling once more. Rattled, Lucinda closed the door with a bang and locked it.

Lucinda lay in bed and shivered, unable to get warm. A chill slipped under her covers, stealing up her spine. The smell of roses clung to her blanket, the warmth from their scent seemed to be at war with the cold. An hour passed and she finally dropped off to sleep.

For the remainder of the night, the two unseen presences in her room remained at an impasse.

BETWEEN buy links:

Amazon.com 

Barnesandnoble.com 

Musa Publishing 

Now onto the Giveaway!

To win an ecopy of BETWEEN (Kindle, Mobi, NOOK or PDF) you can:

1) Follow this Blog OR

2) Add BETWEEN to your Goodreads shelf OR
3) Like my Author Facebook Page 

It’s that simple! Winner will be chosen at random and notified on March 11th.

**PLEASE leave a quickie comment so I know who you are and which you've done. 


Don't forget to visit my fellow author's blogs for more giveaways!

**House photo courtesy of Morguefile.com edited by Clarissa Johal

Are You in the Mood for a Ghost Story?

Are you in the mood for a ghost story? I am. I’ve often wondered why people like to be scared by ghost stories. Perhaps it’s the thrill of the unknown. That little sound in the corner of a dark bedroom that causes the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. The flicker of something in the corner of your eye. A whisper of air on the back of your neck. It takes you out of the day-to-day and pushes you into the...what if?

So, I may be opening myself up here for ridicule, but I thought I’d share some photos I took several years ago. At the time, I belonged to a photographer’s site wherein the challenge was to post a photo a day. That particular day, I decided to visit a local cemetery and take some photos of the memorials there. One in particular stood out for me, The House of Memory. The memorial was dedicated to North Carolina soldiers from the Revolutionary and Civil wars. The cemetery was filled with “Unknown" soldiers, actually, and wandering the grounds made me quite sad. My father is a MIA from Vietnam and it hit home, I guess. Anyways, I decided to take several photos of The House of Memory and came home with these. They are completely SOOC (straight out of the camera).

In the second photo, note the white blob in the center doorway at the top. It changes shape in each frame and I didn’t see it when I was taking these photos. I posted all four on the photographer site and nobody could come up with an explanation.
Lighting? Nope, it was clouded over that day. Lens? Nope, all of my other photos turned out fine. I have no explanation. I'll let you come to your own conclusions.

Shadow Figures

I thought I'd write today about shadow figures. I've been putting it off at the risk of sounding like a loon, but I figure I've talked about so many other paranormal things in my blog--I'd give this topic a go.

I discovered there was such a thing called shadow figures about six months ago. I was watching a program on television and the subject of shadow figures came up. The description gave me the chills. Further reading on the topic left me speechless because it related to several experiences I've had in the past. Experiences I've shrugged off as "weird stuff" because "weird stuff" just happens and there's not a thing you can do about it.

For those of you that haven't heard of shadow figures, they are supernatural shadow-like humanoid figures that, according to believers, are seen in the viewer's peripheral vision. They are often reported moving with quick, jerky movements, and can move through walls or mirrors. They are believed to be evil and aggressive in nature, although a few people consider them to be a form of guardian angel.
Common characteristics reported by those that have seen shadow figures are:

• Male
• Usually seen in a trench coat/cloak
• Usually have a hat, fedora or top hat
• Usually very tall
• No facial features
• They have a sinister aura
• Extremely fast
• Silent
• Seem to have mass
• They can move through walls

There seem to be two classifications of shadow figures.

• Bedroom Invaders or Sentinels: They stand in corners of rooms and watch you.
  
• Omens: They are associated with bad luck, or death. They are attached to people or families. Omens may show up in your bedroom.

About fifteen years ago, my husband and I were renting a duplex while we attended university. I would wake in the middle of the night and see a man walking through our closed bedroom door and around the foot of the bed. He would walk up to my side and stand there, looking down at me. He would continue to stand there while I screamed. I thought somebody had broken into the house. When my husband would turn on the lights in a panic, the man would disappear. This happened several times. I'm a very light sleeper, so I have serious doubts that I was dreaming. A neighbor told us that our duplex was built using old timber from a barn that had been dismantled in the 1920's. My thoughts were that we had a ghost in our house. A very persistent and sinister one.
In retrospect, the characteristics of this figure give me pause for thought. Male, moving quite swift, no facial features, a sinister aura, wearing an overcoat and fedora. Now, I am unsure whether it was a ghost, or a shadow figure.
A year ago, I had another experience. I was lying in bed, trying to sleep (insomniac) and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a very tall male figure rush across my bedroom and disappear into the wall. Again, no facial characteristics, a very sinister feeling to him, tall and moving very fast. And the one detail that stood out? He was wearing an overcoat and fedora. The following week, I received a letter that my step-father had died of a stroke the very night I had seen this shadow figure. Coincidence? Perhaps. But I slept with a light on for quite some time, and I don't scare easily.

What are your thoughts on this phenomena? Crazy talk? Ghosts? Or something else? 

Ghosts

The other day, I took a break from writing to do what I rarely do--watch television.  It's not that I hate television, it's just there are very few shows I have the patience to sit through. While channel surfing, I came across not one, but seven different shows on something that's always fascinated me--ghosts. My paranormal novel, Between, is about a woman that can see ghosts. They don't necessarily frighten her, spirits are a part of her "normal" world, but they do pose problems from time-to-time.
One thing I noticed was that a common theme in these television shows, save for Ghost Hunters and Ghost Hunters International, was a "scare" factor. I've always been confused by the thought of ghosts being scary. I don't understand why they would be, at one time they were human. Are humans scary?  Not usually.
Unless they're wearing polyester and eating tuna fish sandwiches.

I'm also amazed with the amount of effort people put out to quantify and prove their existence. Once they prove ghosts exist--then what?
I'm going to go out on a limb here and just say; "Yes. I believe in ghosts." I've seen them, I've heard them, blah, blah, blah. And after ruling out every logical explanation, I'm still left with; "Yes. I believe in ghosts."  Is it scary to see a ghost?  Not really. I've always been of the ilk, "It is what it is." Do I believe that ghosts can harm the living?
I have to say "no" to that too. But then, I've never been harmed by a ghost so perhaps it's a mindset. Maybe if I had been, I would feel differently.

So why people afraid of ghosts? In this culture you could attribute a fear of the unknown as the main reason. Not helpful either, are claims of people being harmed by ghosts and overly-dramatic television shows. Different cultures define ghosts different ways. There are the ghosts that were once human, and ghosts that are something else entirely (which would be another blog post). And while most cultures regard ancestral spirits as innocuous, they can also be regarded as undesirable if they continue to be present.

Definition

Ghosts: the soul or spirit of a deceased person or animal that can appear to the living. The belief is wide-spread in most cultures and dates back to pre-literate cultures and folk religions, animism and ancestor worship. It can also reference a good or evil spirit (ie. angel or demon) in some belief systems. 

The appearance and ideas of ghosts vary according to culture.

The ancient Egyptians believed that ghosts were created at the time of death. They took on the memories and appearance of the dead and traveled to the Netherworld to continue a life similar to that of the living.
Historical writings of pre-5th century Greece mentioned that ghosts could appear as vapor offering advice and prophecies to the living, but they weren't to be feared.
The Aztec believed that souls of the fallen warriors and women who died in childbirth would be transformed into hummingbirds that would follow the sun on its journey through the sky. Spirit and soul were two different things, however. The soul of a woman who died in childbirth may be transformed into a hummingbird, but the spirit became Cihuateteo. For five days out of the year, the Cihuateteo descended to earth and haunted crossroads to steal children. 
In India, ghosts or bhoots are restless spirits with unfinished business. They can shape shift into various animals. Most appear human, but with one telling trait: their feet are backwards and sometimes certain features are upside-down. They also tend to lurk in trees and wear white clothing.
Ghosts in many Asian cultures are often seen as harmful. Ancestral ghosts can be helpful as long as they're appeased and rewarded for their help. Hungry ghosts, however, are seen as beings driven by intense emotional needs in an animalistic way. They are the ghosts of greedy or jealous people who were unable to appreciate what they had in life.
In the Amazon rainforest, the Wari believe that the spirits of dead people may appear as jima. The jima have cold, poisonous hands and can pull a person's spirit away.
In South Africa there are many beliefs about ghosts and evil spirits. The Bantu people speak of the tokoloshe. An evil spirit summoned by those wanting to make trouble for others. The tokoloshe can create illness or even death.
The Indigenous Australians believe that after death, relatives or close friends must sit by the grave of the deceased to ensure that the spirit of the deceased would go to the spirit place. Once this was completed (or the mourning was completed) the persons name was never to be mentioned again.

In view of this, one can see that there are many different beliefs pertaining to ghosts. In this culture, ghosts seem to break down into three categories; ghosts with unfinished business, ghosts that repeat a moment in time, and then the third; the ones with issues. Ghosts with issues choose to scare or annoy the living for various reasons. I look on these entities as bullies of the spiritual playground. Stand tall and they tend to leave you alone. Let them push you around and you are setting yourself up to be bullied.

So, what are your thoughts and experiences with ghosts? Real or imaginary? Scary or something we have yet to discover?