Laughter behind closed doors sent shivers, and when explored, opened doors would not always close, no matter how hard we pushed on them.
While living on the small island nestled in the San Francisco Bay, I often overheard bizarre tales of supernatural events that took place in some of the Victorian homes around Alameda. As a skeptical teenager, I would listen politely but believed such events only transpired in the overactive imagination of the “storyteller,” that is until strange things began happening in my own home. Continue reading “The Ghost on Lincoln Avenue”
Tales of a Family 