A few years back, around 1990-1991 or so, I lived in an apartment in Crofton, KY. I had a six month old daughter. She and I were the only ones living here at this time. One night, the night before Easter, my mom called me and told me to make sure that I turned my answering machine off, so when she called the next morning to get me up for church, I would eventually hear the phone and get up. I checked the answering machine like three times before I went to bed.
I put my daughter in her crib and gave her her bottle. She shared the room with me since we only had a one bedroom apartment. I woke up the next morning about 10:00 or so and realized that church had started about thirty minutes ago. I wondered why my mom hadn't called me. I called her to see if she was ok and of course she had gone to church (or wasn't home anyway). I went to the answering machine and it was on.
I know just as sure as I am sitting here now that I turned it off. There is no way anyone could have got in the apartment (we have dead bolt locks and I had the only key). I checked it three times so I knew it was off when I went to sleep. I went in to the kitchen to get a Coke (my morning brew) and there, on the floor of the kitchen, was my daughter's bottle broken into a hundred pieces. The bottle was the kind that was flexible plastic, the kind you can step on and just bend it in, not shatter, so to speak. My daughter was only six months old and I know she couldn't have got out of her crib, let alone have the strength to crush the bottle in such a manner.
A couple of years later, I met this guy who lived in the apartment complex with his mother. We started seeing each other and he later moved in with me. He had a friend that was really into stuff like going to graveyards in the middle of the night, the ouija board and all. He came over one night and we decided to see if we could get anything to happen. He and my boyfriend were the one's doing it and I was coming up with the questions.
I asked him to ask how many slats were on the mini-blinds on the window. The board answered the exact number (I counted them after the number was given). Not really believing at this point, I got a handful of spaghetti and broke it several times, put it in a cup and turned the cup upside down on the bar and had him ask how many pieces were under the cup. The board answered just two shy of the exact number (again I counted after the number was given). I still thought it was hard to believe until I looked on the floor and saw the two pieces I had dropped.
One more incident. There is this bridge in Crofton that is way out in the country (a farming community). It is rumored that a woman was driving on the bridge and the old bridge collapsed. Her twin sons were killed. It is said that at night if you drive on the bridge, and turn your car off that you will see two sets of small handprints appear on your window.
We decided to take the ouija board and see if there really is anything out there. We got out there and turned to car off (again it's just my boyfriend and his friend). We started the board.
His friend was the only one doing it. He jumped all of a sudden and stated that the planchette had started moving on its own. We were all spooked now and decided to leave. But the car wouldn't start.
We were petrified. Eventually, after about five hair-raising minutes, the car started. We went home and didn't bother the board anymore.
I have grown up quite a bit now and don't really dabble in stuff like that anymore. I would like to have a very nice ghost in the house now, one that was protective, so to speak, but I guess I just don't live in a spooky place now.