Greenwood District - Seattle, WA - USA

I had several paranormal experiences while living at 708 No. 82nd Street, Seattle, WA USA which I have written about in my books, 'Ghost Stories and The Unexplained' and 'Ghost Stories and Tales of Terror'. 

One day when I lived at this address, my neighbor met me at the mailbox and told me that she and her little girl, Danielle, had been visited by a ghost-child. 

 Many years later I discovered that an old friend had lived on that same street as a young man [Kirby Wilbur] Quite a coincidence!  He revealed that he had ghost/paranormal experiences at 725 No. 82nd Street, Seattle, WA USA.  We were both stunned to come to the realization that several houses on the same street were 'haunted'. 

I am now researching whether or not the Greenwood District had been the site of some catastrophic occurrence.  

Excerpt from 'Ghost Stories and Tales of Terror: Book Two'

Danielle and Charlene lived in the two-story house next door to my cottage in Seattle’s Greenwood District.  Charlene and I were both single mothers with one child, my son – her daughter.  And, Danielle was a perfect little beauty.  Her mother, an airline stewardess, dressed Danielle in Nordstrom clothes and even spent the money to have the little girl’s hair styled.  Her manners were impeccable, and she punctuated her ‘wants’ with stomps of her patent leather shoes.  Visiting the little girl’s bedroom would have been the dream of any child.

However, Danielle, for all of her charm, was demanding.  It was not unusual for her to scream for extended periods of time if she did not get what she wanted.  And, it was hard to get her to accept bedtime limits.  So to prevent Danielle’s ‘get up and wander out to the living room after being tucked in’ moments, Charlene put a lock on the outside of Danielle’s bedroom door. She tiptoed back to unlock the door after the little girl was sound asleep.  Even from next door I could hear Danielle screaming at being locked in her second-floor bedroom. 

I realized late one night that I had not heard Danielle’s tantrums earlier in the evening.  The air was still – almost too still.  I stepped outside and looked up at her bedroom window. The soft glow from Danielle’s night light reassured me; all seemed peaceful.

“Danielle seems to have gotten over her bedtime tantrums,” I mentioned to her mother a couple days later when we met at the mailbox. 

Charlene blanched, looked around, and then lowered her voice. 

“Yes, she says she has a playmate now.”

“A playmate?”

Charlene nodded.

“An imaginary friend, you mean?”

“Something like that.  I’m not sure,” her mother said in a tight little voice.

“Something?  You’re not sure?”

“She says that a little girl comes to play with her after I put her to bed.  You know – her over-active imagination.”

I swallowed.  “A little girl?” 

“Yes, she described a little blonde-haired girl, with ringlets and an over-sized bow in her hair who comes to play with her toys.”  Charlene laughed nervously.  “She says the little girl wears white stockings and white Mary Jane-style shoes.”  Charlene looked at the back of her hands and then looked up and shrugged, “You know how we are about fashion.”

I laughed but, in a way, it wasn’t funny.  “Oh for goodness sake, is this little girl under her bed or what?  I mean, where does she come from?”

“She comes from the closet, according to Danielle.  After they play with Danielle’s toys, the ghost stands at the foot of her bed until she goes to sleep.”

Knowing what I knew about my own ‘visits’ I felt queasy.  “Does the little girl say anything?”

“Nothing, I don’t think she says a word.  And, another thing, Danielle says she keeps her eyes closed.”

“Stop it!  You’re scaring me!”  

Charlene looked worried, “What do you think?” She asked.

“Hmm, I think that you’re lucky she has a vivid imagination and can keep herself occupied until she falls asleep.  What do you think,” I prompted, sensing her concern.

“I think we have a ghost.”

Then, Charlene continued, “Several days after Danielle told me about the little girl I was at the mirror in the hallway, putting on lipstick – getting ready to go out.  Danielle was spending the night with my parents.”

“Yes, and. . .?”

“I was looking at myself in the mirror when suddenly I felt chilled – really cold.  The hair on the back of my neck stood up.  For some reason, I felt terrified.  Everything had been fine the moment before.  Then I felt something brush past me; almost like a touch.  It was. . . like an energy wave, but freezing.”  She stopped for a moment and then continued, “I glanced at the clock and it was about the time I would have been putting Danielle to bed.”

I had heard just about as much as I could stand, but Charlene went on to add, “I instinctively stepped back to make room, but I didn’t know for what.  That’s when it happened.”

I braced myself, already upset by her story.

“In the mirror’s reflection a little girl, dressed in white, floated past me.  She was gliding down the hallway turning her head back and forth, as if she was searching for something!  Honestly, I couldn’t move.  I could feel a. . .I want to say an energy force, or a wave of some sort, pass by.  I was shivering, and had a feeling, or intuition maybe, that she was looking for Danielle.”

I held my breath.

Charlene wiped her nose, as daintily as she could. “You know that gallery-sized photograph of Danielle that is at the top of the stairs?”

I nodded.  I knew the one, of course; it was a beautiful portrait of her daughter at three years old.

“Well, the ghost levitated to the height of Danielle’s portrait, just rose up slowly.  And then it disappeared into the image of Danielle!  I’m afraid to bring her home now.  I don’t know what to do!”

Less than a month later, Charlene and Danielle moved away.  Many nights after new renters moved in I would look up to Danielle’s bedroom window, half expecting to see my little neighbor looking down at me.  But, I never did.