“When she opened the door, I instinctively knew why my intuition had led me there.”

It was a Sunday and I was all alone.  I had broken up with my boyfriend who had finally admitted he wasn’t interested in marriage – at least not to me.

It would be an understatement to say my heart was broken.  The same thing had happened to a few of my friends over the years, but I thought my relationship was solid.  Boy, was I mistaken.

So here I was, lonely as could be with nothing to do on my day off.  I had worked hard that week, including Saturday, and how I yearned to spend it with that special person.  I must admit, I cried a bit.

But then I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself, and I started making some calls.

The first few people I called were busy, and unfortunately, they were the only single friends I had.  But then I had what you might call an inspiration.  Someone came to mind that I hadn’t thought of for years.  She was an old high school acquaintance, and somehow her image popped into my mind.

And I felt an urgency to call her.

Sure enough, when I heard her voice on the other end of the line, I knew something good was going to happen.  I don’t know why I felt that way, but I did.

Within an hour, I found myself driving over to her apartment on the other side of town, and when she opened the door, I instinctively knew why my intuition had led me there.

Looking over her shoulder, I saw a smiling man, and I immediately fell for him – before I was even introduced.

Well, he happened to be in town on business, and I was relieved to learn that he and my friend were merely platonic.  I would have been so disappointed if I didn’t have a shot at him.

To make a long story short, we have been seeing each other on and off for almost a year now, and he just asked me if I’d consider moving to his town.  And none of this would have happened had I not had that psychic inclination to call my old friend that day.

I. La Roche
St. Paul, MN

“Myra said his psychic predictions are rarely wrong, and she trusted his unique talents.”

Myra is a good friend of mine.  We have known each other since we met when our kids were in the same scout troop.

Myra would tell me about her son’s unusual gifts, and we both thought it was pretty funny because Jeremy was a little rascal, and he loved to play tricks on people.

In particular, he used to play tricks on his teachers.  As early as second grade, he would raise his hand and say something like, Mrs. Cranston, did you get your washer fixed?  Sure enough, her washer had broken down the day before.

By the time Jeremy was off to college, his psychic talents were quite evolved.  Myra would tell me how Jeremy would call her from school because he sensed she wasn’t feeling well or when the dog had temporarily run away.

In fact, he advised her where to look because he had a vision of their puppy hiding in a nearby yard.  And sure enough, there he was.  Myra said his psychic predictions are rarely wrong, and she trusted his unique talents.

He hadn’t seen my son, Jeff, in quite a while and one day Jeremy called out of the blue and advised Jeff to check on his bank account.  Well, you guessed it; someone had stolen Jeff’s identity and was starting to run up huge bills.  Jeremy’s call had come in the knick of time.

And one last item:  Jeremy is currently working in hedge funds where instinct and intuition play a huge role.  Myra tells me he is making a fortune.  I’m not the least bit surprised, and I’m so happy for him.

E. Bell
Rolla, MO

“Arty was an old buddy from high school who had died years earlier.”

Arty and I used to hang out together.  We were the best of friends and he used to eat most of his meals with me and my family.

Arty was into motorcycles and tragically was killed when a passing car hit him head on.  He died instantly.

Everyone who knew him was devastated because he was the type of person who had no enemies.  He was likable, easygoing, and loyal to a fault.  It was this latter quality that may have caused his early demise.

You see, Arty sometimes hung out with the wrong crowd.  His cousin, Jamie, was not a particularly nice person, and, in fact, had more than one run in with the law.  But Arty felt that because he was related to Jamie, he owed him his loyalty and friendship.

I had warned him about getting too close to someone whose character was questionable, but Arty felt he could put Jamie on a straight path.  It turns out that the night Arty died, he was running an errand for his cousin, and they had been drinking earlier in the evening.

The autopsy showed Arty had a high level of alcohol in his blood, and the police report indicated that Arty’s motorcycle had possibly strayed into oncoming traffic.

Arty died a little over two years ago, but on more than one occasion, I have felt his presence, particularly late in the evening when I’m alone.

One night, I swear I saw the outline of his figure hovering over me when I was lying in bed.  Another time, I woke up to see the end of my mattress sink in as if someone was sitting on it.  And another time, the bedroom door slammed shut and I saw the outline of his figure again.  Yet the windows were closed and it couldn’t have been caused by a draft.

I miss Arty and somehow I feel his spirit feels it was done an injustice to which I heartily agree.

E. Passman
Erie, PA

“Maybe the spirits that infest that place had it in for only me.”

I want to relay a story that happened to me recently, and it was so strange I can hardly believe it myself.  So, if you are skeptical after you read this, well, I can’t really blame you.

My name is Martin and I am a contractor.  I build homes and I also refurbish homes as well.  I can take a fixer-upper and turn it around faster than almost anyone else in the business.  And it is this latter skill of mine that almost cost me my life a little over a month ago.

A young couple had contacted me, asking me to work on an old home they had recently purchased with the idea of fixing it up and selling it for a quick profit.  That being my specialty, I was happy to offer my services.

What I didn’t know was the place was haunted.

Well, I’ve never believed in that sort of thing, and when I was told that spirits inhabited the place and that a murder had occurred there a few decades earlier, I didn’t give it a thought.

When my crew started tearing down some walls and really getting into the thick of things, strange things started happening.

At first, the accidents were relatively harmless.  One of my workers tripped over a two by four and narrowly missed falling on a sharp piece of metal stuck in the ground.  An electrician got a pretty bad shock, but after a few moments he seemed to recover quickly.

It wasn’t until my ladder, for no reason whatsoever, seemed to be knocked from under me, leaving me literally hanging from the side of the roof.  It was then that I started to sense that forces beyond my comprehension were working against us.

I cautioned everyone to be extra careful and to work on the buddy system, to stay together and to be aware of any pitfalls.  But one afternoon when we were wrapping things up, I got the biggest scare of my life.

Without warning, the bathtub from the upstairs bathroom fell through the ceiling missing me by inches.

I can’t tell you how fast I got out of there, and I told the couple that I simply wouldn’t go back in the house.  I felt bad for them because it was a nice piece of property, but I’d bet my life it was haunted.

I’ve been told that they did have the work completed by another crew, and maybe the spirits that infest that place had it in for only me.  I’ll never know, and I don’t want to find out.

M. T. Gianetto
Orlando, FL