Story 1: I used to live in Albuquerque, NM. There was an antique shop I went into one day to do some shopping. As soon as I went in both my husband and I started feeling sick. It got worse the further into the shop we went. It turns out that the shop, called, The Hanging Tree, really was a hanging tree at one point in Albuquerque’s history. As soon as we both left we felt much better.
Story 2: My apartment in Albuquerque was haunted. I lived on the west side of Albuquerque, which is where all the new development is. I lived on Indian burial ground and didn’t know it, until a Creek friend told me when I started telling him about my weird apartment. I would put down a pair of scissors in the kitchen and go back to get them. I’d find them right in the middle of my bed after searching everywhere. I love watching ghost hunting shows. One day a voice said “Boo!” in my ear and I was home alone. One night I swear I heard my husband come home from work, keys in the lock and the front door open, but when I went to the living room, nobody was there. Another time, I was home alone around Christmas and watching a ghost hunting show. A bell on the Christmas tree started ringing by itself. And the final kicker that really got me was when I saw two Indigenous people in full regalia on horses riding down my apartment hallway go into my stepson’s room and then disappear through the wall! I told my Creek friend and he said my apartment was built right on top of the spirit trail people rode on the Beauty Trail in the afterlife. He advised with all the goings on I move to the eastside of town because that was where nothing was built on Indian burial ground. Until then, I had thought that was stuff made of Tony Hillerman novels, but now I am a full believer.
Story 3: My half-brother died in 1997. After he died I started hearing footsteps from the workshop downstairs coming up to the kitchen. They would stop there. It only happened around three o’clock at night when I was up late reading by myself. I would go downstairs and the workshop light would be on. I would turn it off. The next day I would ask my dad if he had been down there. He would say he hadn’t been down there. The same thing would happen again. My half-brother was a very good wood worker and he died suddenly without really knowing he had died. He died of tuberculosis very fast in a coma. I was convinced it was his unsettled spirit making contact. Then the windows started being found open in the house. My family blamed me, but I hadn’t opened them. I told my father that his son’s spirit was at unrest and he needed to go to his grave and talk to him. After my dad did this everything stopped.
Story 4: My cousin Danny died when I was a teenager. My aunt had called because she hadn’t heard from him. He’d complained of a stomachache and taken off work early to go home. She was worried. We had not heard from him. That night I had a dream that Danny was dead with an Afghan on top of him and his dog laying on top of the Afghan. The next day my aunt called to tell us they had found Danny dead in his apartment just the way I found him in his dream.
At his memorial service, my aunt asked me to hold his childhood stuffed animal because my mother told her about my dream. When I touched it I was overwhelmed with great sadness and I just wanted to cry. Now I am very careful about things I touch from people under certain circumstances.
Story 5: In 1981 my brother was born. My parents got me a baby doll so I wouldn’t feel jealous. For unknown reasons, I named her Cindy Adderson. My brother was born on August 1st. Around the same time, a Cynthia Anderson who was from Wisconsin and working in Toledo, Ohio was murdered. The crime has never been solved. I firmly believe that I have the trapped spirit of her in my childhood doll and still have the doll to this day.
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