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 Ghosts of my Childhood by Julie Lambirth

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Registration date : 2009-05-17

PostSubject: Ghosts of my Childhood by Julie Lambirth   Wed Jun 18, 2014 4:24 pm

Ghosts of my Childhood by Julie Lambirth
By Paul Dale Roberts, HPI Ghost Whisperer
HPI (Hegelianism Paranormal Intelligence) International!/groups/HPIinternational/
Paranormal Hotline: (916) 203-7503 - 4 Advice & Investigations

Hegelianism Paranormal Intelligence (International)

Being a descendent of a Welsh pirate named Bartholomew 'Black Bart’ Roberts, you know I am fascinated with the pirate legacy. Piracy captures the fancy of many people and right now, there are two shows that glamorous piracy, they are Starz Original Series - Black Sails and Crossbones. I enjoy both shows, but my all-time fave is Crossbones. I love the legend of Blackbeard and being a paranormal investigator, it was rumored that after Blackbeard died, his ghost was seen wandering around on several Caribbean beaches. After his death, his dead body circled the ship 7 times – according to legend, There are not too many fictional shows that capture my attention and I find myself watching more documentaries than fictionalize shows. Some of those documentaries that I watch can be seen on Discovery ID; Science Channel; History Channel 2; Biography Channel; American Heroes Channel; Destination America. Below, enjoy a good true ghost story! Special Note: My mother Rosita Causing aka Rosemarie Roberts made claim that she is related to Jean Lafitte – a French pirate, but I cannot find any evidence to this claim. Now to Julie Lambirth's ghost story...take it away Julie!

It was 1970 when my family moved to Sacramento from the Los Angeles area. Dad had gotten a job transfer, and my brothers and I were all very excited to be moving to a brand new area which, even back then, was worlds apart from Southern California.

We lived in a rental home for the first year while my parents took their time searching for a permanent residence to house our growing family.

I was 9 years old. My brothers were 11 and 8, and Mom was expecting baby number four in September. The new arrival was eagerly anticipated, especially be me!—as I was looking forward a little brother or sister to cuddle and play with.

Mom took me along on several open house tours during the home search. Other times, we went as a family. It was during a family tour that I spotted a big, two story house with a For Sale sign in the front. The house looked very grand and majestic to my young eyes, and I remember thinking to myself how wonderful and exciting it would be to live in such a pretty home.

As if they were reading my mind, my parents expressed their verbal interest in this home as well. Things happened very quickly after that. We moved into the house in June of 1971, and Baby Jennifer came along soon after.

My aunt Nancy and cousin Kim had followed us to Sacramento from LA, and moved into our new house to stay and help with the new baby for a few months until they found a place of their own. Kim slept with me in my big bed, and we would often stay up late that summer talking and scaring ourselves with silly ghost stories and other spooky tales. We had taken notice of a light reflection on the wall of my room that seemed to grow with each passing night. It was just a reflection coming through the window, but we viewed it with ever-growing curiosity as it seemed to split and become two, and then three or four separate lights on the wall. Our imagination ran away from us as we determined that these lights were ghosts, and we named each of them: Arthur, Mrs. Arthur, and the two Arthur children. We talked to them each night as if they were old friends catching up on life’s events.

It was during this time that inexplicable noises, footsteps and other curious sounds began occuring in the house. The lights faded from the wall in my bedroom, and Kim and I decided that somehow, Arthur had come to life. Everyone in the house was noticing the strange noises that came from upstairs when all of us were downstairs. Other times a loud crash would be heard in a room, or footsteps would be heard running up or down the staircase. Dad’s electric typewriter would fire up in the office when no one else was in there. Doors would open and close.

One night at dinner Mom and Dad acknowledged that there was something else living with us in the house. Dad—a true non-believer of such things—had seen a misty outline of a person moving from the hallway towards the staircase before fading away. They were ready to admit something strange and unusual was taking place, but it was certainly nothing to be afraid of; in fact, this was something they felt we could all live with. The presence had showed no hostility, and perhaps was enjoying being around a big, boisterous group. I proudly declared to my family that the presence was named Arthur, which presented an opportunity for discussion as to how I had come up with such a name. Apparently my mother’s uncle had died tragically a few years prior, and his name had been Arthur. This choice of names truly disturbed my dear grandmother, as it was her brother, Arthur, who had died, and she would become terrified at the slightest hint of activity when visiting our home.

To this day, I don’t believe the ghost in the house was the young and tragically-taken Uncle Arthur. I believe the ghost was part of the house, and that fact has since been proven to my own personal satisfaction, which will be elaborated upon later in this story.

In time, Nancy and Kim moved out of our house and into a place a few blocks away. My brothers and I went to school, made friends and enjoyed outside activities—a typical life of youngsters. The only differences that separated us from our friends was the fact that we lived in a bonafide “haunted house”. We would talk to our friends about Arthur, and they would laugh it off most times. We took great pleasure in changing their views with invitations to our house for big slumber parties in the upstairs family room. Arthur never failed to make his presence known to our visitors!

I’m sure that so far, this tale sounds sweet and charming; and most times it was! Paranormal activity is easier to handle in groups of people, but one-on-one can make things a bit spookier. There were many times I would be alone in the house when Arthur would try to interact with me. He would get so close to me I swear I could hear him breathing! The electric fear I would experience was, I’ve come to realize, brought on by ME. Never did Arthur act in a malicious or aggressive manner. It was the “not knowing” part that got to me. And there were two separate events of my youth that I remember to this day as being truly terrifying. Arthur was not directly involved with these events, but I’m certain they were powered the paranormal energy in the home.

The first event took place very late at night when everyone was asleep. Everyone, that is, except me! It was summer, and I enjoyed staying up late reading books in bed. On this particular night, it was past 1AM and I was curled up reading a book when I heard a horrific roar that seemed to emanate from the first floor below me. It was as loud as a jetliner coming in for a landing, and it lasted for several seconds before fading out to a dull rumble. I waited, frozen, in my bed; I was certain my parents would quickly be dashing out of their room below me to investigate the cause of this sound, but the house remained quiet and I realized that I was the only one who had heard the sound. I remained in bed, paralyzed with fear for what seemed like hours, until I drifted off to sleep.

Upon questioning my family members the next morning, it was obvious that the noise I had heard was meant for my ears only. No one else had experienced it.

The second frightening event took place one morning as I was getting ready for school. I had some shelves set up in my closet, along with my stereo and makeup mirror. My morning ritual involved sitting at the makeup mirror in the closet (doors open of course!) and listening to music in my headphones as I applied my makeup. My bedroom door was closed, as always; however, it was in clear view behind me from the mirror. On this particular morning, I was blasting Queen music in my headphones and carefully applying mascara. Suddenly, I saw my bedroom door fly open in the mirror, and my younger brother was frantically waving his arms at me and yelling something that I couldn’t hear over the loud music in my headphones. The look on his face was truly terrifying, and I knew in an instant something horrible had happened. To this day, I will never forget the look on his face.

In one fell swoop, I yanked off my headphones and spun around in my chair to face him.

And there was nothing there. My bedroom door was closed, and all was quiet—except for the music in my headphones. My brother was downstairs eating breakfast, and it was clear he had been there for some time. As I bounced down the stairs babbling hysterically, it was clear he had no idea what I was talking about!

Both of the experiences I outlined here were isolated and took place at least three years apart. They were not typical of the paranormal activity we had all grown to live with; had they been typical, I’m sure my childhood would be remembered with a completely different outlook! I would have taken Arthur’s antics any day over the events I just listed here.

But who was Arthur, and where did he come from? And where did he go when our house would become quiet for months on end??

Arthur would come and go. Sometimes he would be away for long stretches, even up to a year. By the time I moved out at age 18, he had been gone for some time. He made sporadic appearances after that, but by the time my parents sold the house in 1986, he had been away for so long my parents assumed the house was no longer haunted. Disclosure laws were just coming into affect at this time, and my parents did not indicate the possibility of paranormal activity in this home when they sold it. It is this reason alone that keeps me from attempting to contact the current owners to question them about any experiences they may be having; my mother is afraid of being sued.

We have, however, kept in touch with a woman who still lives in the neighborhood. She has told us that since we left in 1986, six families have moved in and out of the house due to paranormal activity which continues to this day.

I am now 47 years old. I have continued to experience paranormal events throughout my life, and I thank Arthur for introducing me to it all. The child in me yearns go back to Fair Oaks with the knowledge I have now, to utilize technology that we have today to try to communicate with the ghosts of my childhood.

Or, perhaps, the ghosts of my future? As Barb Huyser stated in her book, ghosts are everywhere. It’s high time we took notice.

George spoke with his son Craig today, to get Craig's version of events from back when they were living there. George mainly wanted to know about the green blob. He was so excited about what he learned and asked me to let you know.

The green blob started as a little tornado coming out of a closet door. It formed into a beach ball sized blob over Craig's head as he laid in bed. It started to move into another room, but then backed up and hovered in mid-air.

Craig describes it as having a bright green "core" with numerous smaller dark green balls spinning around the core, and giving it the spherical shape. He said the ball appeared to have an electrical charge to it, as if it was static electricity.

George was in the room with him, but George could not see it, even as Craig pointed it out to him. It faded out after about 20 seconds.

Have you ever heard of anything like this? I haven't, but would be thrilled to see such a thing!

Other points that Craig brought up: a large box of tools and car parts had fallen off a shelf and crashed onto the floor for no apparent reason. Also, the tornado "vortex" had actually come from under Craig's bed before spinning between him and George. Craig remembers the tornado as being very cold. The house itself was cold all the time during their first few months living there. Even in the dead of summer, it was cold.

Another story that George had forgotten is one his stepson had told him when he spent the night with them one weekend. The poor little guy had a terrible time sleeping because of people talking and laughing and banging things. He tried to wake George up to ask him if he could tell the people to be quiet, but George wouldn't wake up. There were no "people" in the house with them. It was like what I had experienced: lots of people laughing and talking and stomping, but no one heard it except for me.

Anyway, George wanted me to email you about the blob. He wants your feedback. I can't wait to visit Ash St again!!!!!

Have a great evening,


Paul Dale Roberts, HPI Esoteric Detective
aka The Demon Warrior
Hegelianism Paranormal Intelligence (International)!/groups/HPIinternational/
Managed by Staci Butler, HPI Twitter Account Manager
My Bio Link at Ceri Clark's All Destiny Magazine!
Paranormal Cellular Hotline: For Investigation or Advice: 916 203 7503

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