The first paranormal or "un-normal' experiences of my life, that I can recall at least, all happened one weekend back in August of 1978 My brother and I were camping with our Dad on a friends property (along with about 6 other families) in the Moose River area of Nova Scotia. I was 9 at the time.
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The first of the three events was a ghost sighting that not only myself, but 6 or so others saw as well. We had heard of a 'haunted house' about a 30 min walk down the road from where we were staying. We all decided to walk down and take a closer look. When we got to the driveway leading to the house we all froze. While I don't think any of us would see anything, we certainly weren't expecting to see anything that far away from the house. But we all saw something pass inside the house, through one of the downstairs windows. It was pure white. It was neither the shape of a person or any animal.
(this is a quick sketch of it's shape)
It went, left to right by the window. But what really, nailed us to the spot where we stood was that mere seconds later it was on the second story of the building and walked(?) past both windows. We didn't need to see anything else, and sure as hell weren't going any closer.
Within moments we were all hightailing it back to 'home' our hearts in our throats. We told all the adults who would listen but they said we must have imagined it, or that it was just a tattered piece of curtain. We mentioned that it was impressive that the curtains in all three windows (on two different floors) all seemed to be tattered into the same shape and move across the window. But still no more from the adults.
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Later that day I was going to sit down on a picnic table, one that had a large coffee urn (you know those industrial ones that hold a 100 cups or so) Well it seems that the table was not sitting level on the ground and when I sat down the table tipped forward causing the urn to topple over (directly toward me) and spill it contents - gallons of boiling hot water - all over my back, neck, shoulders and arms. An adult seeing what happened rushed over to me and grabbed me tearing my shirt off. Oddly enough both she and I were amazed as there was no blistering, no burning. I could feel the heat of the water, but there was no scarring, no mark whatsoever on me. I went in and changed into some dry clothing and then went back outside. She was still filling the urn with more water, she asked if I was OK, and I was. She commented how incredible it was that I was not harmed and said she would not believe it had she not seen it. Oddly enough the grass that was dowsed (along with me) was now all wilted - from the heat of the water - and a day later was dead.
I'm not sure why I was not burned, but in retrospect I am thanking some guardian spirit.
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The last event took place the next day. A group of us, adults and children were all taking a walk down to the river and on the way had to cross an old wooden bridge over a dried stream bed. I refused to cross. Something inside me was telling me not to get on the bridge. It was a fearful feeling of dread that I just could not ignore. While my father tried to reason with me and others had crossed the bridge, we all heard the creaking of the bridge and from the middle some of the old wooden planks dropped off and hit the stream bed below. No one was hurt and no one fell through but as soon as that happened the dread and fear I felt disappeared and was replaced with a very vivid sense of relief.
...and thus started a lifelong irrational fear of bridges. :-)
