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Author: Robert Credeur
Location: Opelousas, Louisiana
Ture Story
This story is 100% factual. It is, however, rather long so you may need some time to read it. I hope you find it worth your time..
I have always been fascinated by paranormal activity. I can remember as a small child breathlessly pouring through books about ghosts, hauntings, and the paranormal. Although I cannot recall what the first book I read on the subject was, I can remember being totally enraptured exploring the subject. I quickly exhausted my little elementary school's resources, although I sometimes read the books on paranormal activity over and over and over again. As I grew older, my interest did not lessen and my own personal library was becoming quite large with books both factual and fiction. I began to entertain the thought of becoming a parapsychologist (although not very seriously) and would read late into the night - sometimes scaring myself silly. If I fell asleep reading one of these "trash" books (as they were called by my mother and grandmother) I would wake to the inevitable lecture on filling my mind with such inappropriate things. Still, my interest did not lessen. I did, however, never consider that I myself would become a "victim" of such activity. The house I lived in was fairly new. No one close to me had died in the near vacinity of my home. We were religious people ( devout Roman Catholics - things like this always happen to us) and ghosts seemed to me reserved for the attics of old Civil War plantations or abandoned cemeteries. Even so, I was sure (from reading and watching such books and movies) that I would move directly out of any house that showed any sign of being "haunted". I believed this until the summer of 1990 when my attitude became subject to severe change.
To my shock and horror, my mother died suddenly on June 19, 1990, a week before her 40th birthday. In an instant my whole life changed. Coupled with the horrible grief I was experiencing at losing my mother my family structure was also changing. Within that same week my sister moved in with my maternal grandparents next door (they had always been guardian angels to she and I). My step-father immediately rented an apartment and moved out of our home to further himself from the pain of losing his wife. I was left alone in the house - by my own choice of course but alone all the same. Although my grandparents lived only a few hundred yards from my front door, they seemed a million miles away when I walked into my empty house at night. My world had fallen around me. In the two years before my mother's death, she and my grandmother both developed cancer and my mother subsequently had a severe mental breakdown from which she never recovered - topping off her lifetime filled with broken marriages, marital abuse, and mental illness and she finally died from - of all things - heat stroke. My life was now such that I had just graduated high school, lost my mother, began college, was living alone, and was dealing with some aspects of my sexuality that I had ignored my entire life. Needless to say, I was a bundle of nerves, grief, and stress.
The first event in my house happened two weeks after my mother's funeral. An old friend of mine (We'll call him Mike) and I were reunited by my mother's death after nearly two years of not speaking to each other. The only light in the pit of blackness I felt I was living in, I kept Mike in very close contact. It was not rare for him to stay over in my sister's old bedroom after a night of talking, crying, and catching up on the time we had spent away from each other. One Sunday morning, Mike paid a visit to me after going to church (Mike was devoutly religious) He was accompanied by a friend named Kyle, whom I had met only once before. We began talking and laughing, and ended up listening to some old comedy albums on the stereo in my bedroom. Seemed like a great morning. Since we were listening to the recordings we were all pretty quiet, so I was quite shocked when Mike looked up at me and said "Well, aren't you going to see what she wants?".
"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.
"Your grandmother is in the living room. She just called for you." I immediately got up from where I was sitting and went into the living room of my house. It was not strange to me that my grandmother would have been in my house unannounced since she lived right next door and was accustomed to just popping over at any given time. I was quite suprised when I found no one there. I checked the entire house, calling my grandmother's name, and then went back into my bedroom with an odd look on my face and explained to both Mike and Kyle that there was absolutely no one other than the three of us in the house. Mike protested, claiming that he heard her calling my name repeatedly. Problem solving to the best of my ability I turned and went to the phone to call my grandmother. She immediately answered her phone. She denied being in my house and had just come in from mowing her lawn. I explained the situation to her, and she laughed it off saying that the voice Mike heard must have come from our neighbor's home (which, incidentally, was a good 500 yards away) or that we had had a little too much to drink the night before. After more discussion and realizing that she would be of no help to me I ended the conversation. I was more confused than ever, but not really bothered by the situation. I went back to my bedroom to give the guys an update on my conversation. Mike immediately went pale and said "There was somebody in this house. There was a voice. It was calling your name. It was a woman. Therefore it was either your grandmother, your sister (who was in New Orleans at the time), or your mother (he said this rather jokingly). So I suggest we search your house".
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