An American Haunting...

We live in a house that is from 1760. Okay, so not all of the house is from 1760 (though from the wiring in the kitchen you'd never guess it wasn't that old!), but our dining room/library/nursery are, and in houses that old there are bound to be some wacky things that have happened in all those years. A while back, the Mom swore that one day during one of her visits she could hear footsteps following her down our lower staircase. Ever since she's be convinced our house is haunted. Now I've heard rumbles and grumbles before (finally figuring out that some very large grumbles are actually emanating out of the local quarry when they do blasting activities (!), but I really didn't think too much about the haunted thing until just recently.

One night the Husband came home late from work and I had been hanging out in the kitchen. He came into the kitchen and we were chatting and then we both heard a woman's voice, from behind where the Husband was standing. Husband though he heard her say "Anna". I heard a distinct voice with a two-syllable sound. We looked around-- no talking toys (a frequent contributor to household background noise these days), the cat hasn't learned to speak, the Husband's talking cell phone was in the family room. Nothing. Now I'm sure there is a logical non-paranormal explanation for all of this, but it was a bit creepy.

When you have a house this old (and you're a bit of a type A) you might find yourself doing research on the ownership. Needless to say I happened to have researched the census records for our town, cross-referenced against the deed records that the Husband had pulled together at Middlesex County's recorder's office. Turns out, according to the 1820 census there was an Anna who lived in our town with the family who owned our parcel. She was 19 at the time. In 1870 there was another Anna (though, based on age information, not the same Anna from 1820).

Then, there's the picture, below-- this was taken in our family room. It looks like there's a hand in the frame. I took the picture, it's not my hand and my mom swears its not her hand. Wacky, no?