Beth Phillips-York, REALTOR@, Writer & Sensitive.
I’m a simple, Midwestern girl from a modest, Christian, hard working family and the youngest of 3 girls. An interesting fact is we were born Feb 21st, Feb 22nd, & Feb 23rd, exactly 2 years apart. My family moved from Minneapolis to the quaint, farming village of Quincy, MI when I was 4 years old. The farmhouse we rented was built in the 1920’s with a loft and two bedrooms in the upstairs. Because I was the youngest, I was allocated the loft room for my bedroom. My sisters and everyone else was required to pass through my room to get to the other two rooms and the attic alcove overlooking the stairs.
My initial encounter with a ghost was in that alcove while I was drawing on a chalk board playing school teacher. It was a late, fall morning and my sisters were at school and my mom was downstairs in the kitchen. In the alcove was a small, hobbit like door that led to the attic where random boxes, photos and miscellaneous items were stored by our landlord. I looked over my right shoulder as I was drawing and standing before me was a little girl in a white dress with straggly, brunette hair and bright blue eyes. She had a hopeful expression that said, “I want to play too”. I wasn’t frightened, but I knew she wasn’t real, so I closed my eyes tightly for a second and when I opened them, she was gone. A few times during the night I would see a flash of light streak across my loft room, but I would just pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep. Another morning, a year or so later, I was sitting on my bed trying desperately to tie my shoe, (I had some trouble learning this skill) and a flash ran past me, into the closet pushing on my hanging clothes, leaving them swinging back and forth in front of me.
So, being the inquisitive, curious child that I was, I wanted to investigate this little girl. My middle sister and I would routinely go into the attic in search of any artifact that might tell us a story. One of the framed pictures we found was of a baby girl, dressed in a baptismal gown with the brightest, blue eyes I had ever seen. We then promptly headed to the library to search for newspaper articles or any other information about our farmhouse and found a story of a young girl that had died in a farming accident in 1939 on our property. It was at this point that I started to believe in an afterworld, ghosts and things unknown and I wanted to know more.
My childhood home in Michigan