THE HAUNTED 8 BALL

   I wrote this blog post several years ago and recently decided to repost it - - despite the fear of being considered a fabricator or a likely candidate for a padded cell in Bellevue. I can only offer my reassurance that it is absolutely true.

The incident of the haunted 8 ball happened when I was eleven years old and I kept it to myself all these years. Only one other living person knows about it. I'm revealing this  because I always had a desire to finally tell the story.

The Magic 8 Ball is a novelty "toy". The idea was first patented in the 1940s, inspired by an old  fortune-teller spirit writing machine. It was first made in 1950 by the Brunswick Billiard Company in Chicago and later manufactured by Mattel.

The original  Magic 8 Ball is made of plastic and looks like a regular 8 ball, only larger. The user must ask it a "yes" or "no" question - then turn the ball upside down. The answer floats in an alcohol-based liquid that is dyed blue, and appears in a window on the bottom of the ball. The original ball provided twenty different answers, which appeared randomly and never in the same order.

Several variations of the ball are still sold today.

I was eleven years old and we were living in Pomona, California. At that time the novelty Magic 8 Ball fortune teller "toy" was extremely popular. It was enthusiastically advertised on television and nearly every kid in the neighborhood had one.

I was smitten by the 8 ball allure and begged my parents to let me have one. My mother was initially hesitant. She'd had a very bad experience with an Ouija board when she was a child and was suspicious of anything to do with fortune telling. My father scoffed at her protest and let me buy the coveted ball.

At Mom's gentle but firm request, I never kept the 8 ball in the house. I kept it on the patio outside in a cabinet that contained some of my other toys.

 This is the exact vintage box that my 8 ball came in when I was eleven years old. I found this photo on the Internet

 

The Magic 8 Ball initially seemed completely harmless and extremely entertaining. I enjoyed asking it random questions and my interest in it began to intensify.

The more I used the ball the more I noticed a curious quirk. Almost every time I asked a question, the answer would be "Reply hazy. Try again" or "Concentrate and ask again."

I quickly became aware that the more deeply I concentrated, the more accurate the answers were. And when I completely cleared my mind and concentrated with absolute intensity, the answers were nearly 100 per cent accurate.

I was soon convinced that this was no coincidence and the 8 ball was not merely a toy.

Entering the portal of darkness requires putting the mind into a semi-hypnotic state of extreme concentration.

There was a girl my age named Carolyn who lived across the street. She had a Magic 8 Ball and was as seriously obsessed with it as I was.

We decided to test the dual accuracy of our two  balls, using the most intense concentration that we could muster.
I would ask my ball a question, Carolyn would ask hers the same question and we'd immediately compare answers.
Is Jon wearing a blue shirt?
Is Carolyn wearing a yellow dress?
Are we residing in Bora Bora?......etc.

We asked eight questions in a row and the answers on both balls were IDENTICAL each time. It was too astonishing to be a mere coincidence.
(remember, there were twenty different answers on the 8 ball).  

Concentration yielding accurate answers weren't the only strange happenings. The very worst part was yet to come.

During the summer when I was eleven years old we moved from Pomona to Anaheim (near Disneyland). My parents wanted to buy a house, but weren't sure exactly where - so we temporarily moved into an apartment.

I want to emphasize that it was a luxurious, spacious, brand-new apartment.  No one previously lived there - so it didn't have any kind of dark or sinister history.

There were two bedrooms, each with its own private bath. The bedrooms were located on a long hallway. One side of the hallway had several huge closets with sliding doors.

I put some of my things in one of the closets - -including the Magic 8 Ball - - and never thought about it.

It's rather difficult to condense this story. I'll simply say that strange things started happening late at night - rather subtly at first. 

The toilet in my parent's bathroom would flush.

It's not unusual for toilets to make weird noises at night. The water runs or gurgles or sometimes sounds like a half-flush.
These were always FULL flushes - and as soon as the toilet filled up, there would be another full flush. And another.

My father said "Johnny must be in the bathroom" (my parents called me Johnny back then).

My Mom asked "Why would he be in our bathroom? He has his own."
(I never went in my parent's bathroom).

After several nights of frequent flushing, the toilet in MY bathroom started to make full unauthorized flushes, too. It was beyond bizarre.

Soon after the mysterious flushing began, the footsteps started. Late at night - when we were in bed - loud, heavy footsteps would quickly stomp down the entire length of the hallway, always in the same direction - from the kitchen all the way to my bedroom door.
There was also an ugly raspy sound like heavy breathing. Whatever it was, it sounded very angry.

My father was previously a staunch skeptic who never believed in ghosts or evil spirits. He laughed and scoffed at anyone who believed in paranormal activity.

My father was also completely fearless. He was never afraid of anything. This was the very first time in my life that I saw him genuinely shaken.
He searched the entire apartment (including the hall closets) and found absolutely nothing.

The footsteps and flushing happened so often that we were terrified to sleep. Occasionally the sliding closet doors in the hallway would open by themselves.

The most horrifying thing happened one night after I finally fell asleep. The footsteps in the hallway woke me up suddenly, and I sensed that something was right by my bed.

Then I felt a force pressing me down into the mattress, and I was overcome with something that could only be described as sleep paralysis. My entire body was paralyzed - - I couldn't move and could hardly breathe.

I was DEFINITELY wide awake - this was no dream or figment of my imagination - - and to this day I shudder with the chills when thinking of it.

I remember praying to God and eventually I was able to move and catch my breath. But the incident literally terrified me for months afterwards and I was too scared to go to sleep.

One day, in complete desperation, my mother started looking (searching) in the hallway closets. She found the Magic 8 Ball and immediately took it outside.

She later told me that she smashed it apart with a hammer and discarded it. After she got rid of the ball the footsteps and toilet flushing stopped completely and we never had another nocturnal problem. We were finally able to sleep in blissful peace.

I have since done extensive research on Magic 8 Balls and only found one other true story about it being connected with a haunting.

I've kept this story a secret because it's so incredible. My parents witnessed it and later spoke of it quite often, but they are now deceased.

I have nothing to add -  except that extreme caution should be used when delving into things that deal with black magic, fortune telling, spiritualism, curses, spells, voodoo....and even "toys" that seem benign. Ironically, the Ouija Board was initially created as a harmless parlor game.

Willingly relinquishing your mind to portals of the dark side can yield negative results.
Keep positive prayers of light in your heart and soul.
Evil exists in many ways that might surprise you.

             Peace, Jon

I don't want to sound like a preacher. My caution is only inspired from personal experience.

PRELUDE TO GHOSTS

  

Do you believe in ghosts?

There seems to be two distinct camps divided on the subject - -  those people who never had a paranormal experience are likely to be skeptics or disbelievers. Those who have encountered some semblance of other-worldly entities are most often positively convinced that ghosts existence.

The subject of ghostly hauntings is murky, tricky, and tainted. Many incidents are founded on little more than hearsay, rumor, legend, exaggeration,  over-active imaginations, and fabrications.

I would have most likely been among the skeptics if I hadn't had several very real experiences. I can't confirm the existence of generic ghosts, but I very definitely believe in evil spirits, demons, and other entities of ill-intent.

The true story that I want to tell is about a haunted "magic" eight ball that I had as a child. The horrifying things connected with it were witnessed by both of my parents - who instantly became staunch believers of the supernatural. Since it's a long story, I'm going to save it for my next blog post.
(I initially posted it several ago, but feel that it's time to rehash it again)

How to enter the portal of paranormal activity? I can only provide an answer from personal experience - -

Intense concentration.

If you purposely clear your mind of all clutter and concentrate solely on the deepest realms of darkness, evil will eventually accept the invitation.

I absolutely do not condone this unholy indulgence, and strongly caution that this practice will inevitably yield dangerously negative results.

I am certainly no expert on this subject. I'm only relying on experiences of people that I've known, my own experiences, and pure common sense.

Demons and evil spirits are extremely clever and can dupe the uninitiated into destructive realms.

I believe that intense concentration was the beginning of the haunted eight ball ordeal - but I'll save that for another post.

Right now, I'm remembering an incident in my wayward youth in Southern California. It's not ghostly, but definitely weird.

There was a (brief) time when I was a quasi - hippie with Maharishi intent. I wore clothes and sandals from India and made (half-hearted) attempts to adopt East Indian culture.

Eventually I delved into transcendental meditation. I read several books about the subject and began practicing the methods.

The main prerequisite to this meditation was to completely clear the mind and concentrate intensely on one mental visual - - such as a single rose suspended in a black void. While concentrating on a phantom image, mentally reciting a mantra is employed.

This unconventional ritual supposedly generates relaxation and keen sense of perception.

It is virtually an impossibility to have a blank mind, but I faithfully practiced this meditative anomaly every night. Completely alone in a darkened room.

I did this for about a week, with no positive results.

I tried to increase my power of concentration and erase any thoughts from my mind.

One night, while in deep abstract meditation, a strange (uninvited) power came over my entire body and I was paralyzed. I couldn't move, and it was as if a dark overpowering force was taking over my mind and body.

I suddenly shouted "Satan, leave me!" I jumped up, turned a light on, and never meditated again.

Demons? Over-active imagination? Whatever. The energy was definitely negative.

At that time in my life a guru advised me to give up my worldly possessions and abstain from sex.

I had few worldly possessions.

I abstained from sex for about two hours.

I've had several ghostly encounters in a cemetery when I lived in the Missouri Ozarks.

An old Polaroid photo that I took at Maple Park Cemetery. The grave of a woman named Melissa who died at age 24 in the 1880s. There were always fresh flowers on her grave.

I was very familiar with the Maple Park Cemetery in Springfield, MO, and that's where several creepy incidents occurred. The oldest graves are located at the front of the cemetery and the newer ones are way in the back. 

In the brisk autumn weather, I was completely mesmerized by this cemetery. It was filled with gorgeous old trees that turned stunning colors in October.
Having been raised in seasonless Southern California, I was amazed at how a real seasonal autumn could be. I would spend countless hours trekking through the cemetery, collecting autumn leaves and savoring the intoxicating atmosphere.

There are several graves of Civil War soldiers located near some ancient trees. Sitting nearby during an autumnal twilight, I distinctly heard mournful moaning voices seemingly coming from the low-hanging tree branches above the graves. The moans were tainted with the cold, desperate, other-worldly sound of dying.

It wasn't my imagination. And the cemetery was deserted.

I said aloud "you're safe now - rest in eternal peace."

The moans eventually dwindled, then stopped. For some strange reason I wasn't really frightened by the incident. I was more fascinated.

The old gazebo at Maple Park Cemetery.

 The creepiest thing at the cemetery happened to me one dreary October afternoon on the day before Halloween. It was a very dark, chilly, damp  day. I was wandering aimlessly around - gathering autumn leaves and savoring the sinister misty atmosphere.

I eventually wound up in the far side of the cemetery, where the newer graves are. Seemingly out of nowhere, I discovered the grave of a young man who was born on my birthday - December 13th. The same year. He was 26 when he died.

As I was reading the headstone inscription I felt an icy chill and got an incredibly strange feeling as if I was not alone. I looked to my left and saw a very tall, murky dark thing next to me. It wasn't a person. It was more like an ominous cloudy shroud.
This wasn't my fanciful imagination.
It was really there.

I instinctively ran through the graveyard back to my car and took off as fast as I could.

I never went back to that part of the cemetery. In retrospect - many years later - I regret not returning and taking a photo of the grave.

I have much more to say, but this post is getting too long. 

I'm debating whether I should rehash my post about the haunted eight ball. It's my worst haunted experience.

I don't want to be boring.

Wait a minute - - - me boring??

Completely impossible!

Jon