Wicked Good Ghosts

By Sandra McNally

Wicked Good Ghosts is a series of separate stories that depict actual hauntings and similar events that took place in the author's life. Although Ms. McNally is not a ghost hunter, it seems that she was haunted by same and in varying situations. The ghosts began to find her in early childhood and continue to appear sporadically throughout her life. The stories range from amusing or sweet to downright scary. This book also contains a bonus story that is based in part on factual events and those which may or may not be true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra McNally
• Release date: Sep 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310042546

Sandra McNally

R. Sandra McNally is the former editor and publisher of Wyrrd Word, a small but internationally-known magazine which featured articles on New Age subjects, Green Magic, and supernatural happenings. Although the Word is now out of print, Ms. McNally is working on a new e-book, "The Best of Wyrrd Word" as well as a gothic vampire novel, "The Golden Curl". She enjoys walking in the woods or on the beach, reading, gardening and painting. And, yes, she did grow up in a haunted house! Her present home seems free of all phantom residents and is well guarded by her two gargoyles, Oscar and Toscar.

Book preview

WICKED GOOD GHOSTS

BY R. SANDRA MCNALLY

Text Copyright 2015 R. Sandra McNally

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

INTRODUCTION

You may read this as fiction or as fact. My only purpose is to share this and to entertain you and perhaps make you think: is there more around all of us than we now perceive?

This book is divided into three parts: The Hauntings, Other Anomalies and a bonus story, Uncle Bertie’s Well. The bonus story is based partially upon actual events and partially upon enough fiction to bring closure to the story. Which parts are true? That is for the reader to decide. I only hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I would appreciate your rating and comments. I’ll be sure to pass them along to my phantom friends.

R. Sandra McNally

August 2015

PART ONE – THE HAUNTINGS

ENTOMBED

One of our family graveyards on my mother’s side was located in the small town of Peacedale. Part of the family were buried in an honest-to-goodness above-ground mausoleum. It was not like the famed tombs in New Orleans. No. This resting place was reminiscent of an ancient burial mound perhaps one in England or Ireland. Imagine a large, mounded cave-like tomb with grass growing all over the exterior top and black iron double doors that led, one step down when opened, to the holding area for the bodies. These were neatly arranged in caskets upon shelves that ranged three to a level with a faded old brick floor beneath. The caskets themselves could not be seen as they were surrounded, each one, by a sort of iron shell. In essence, very creepy.

Surrounding this rounded tomb were in-ground graves for those family members who, for reasons of their own, preferred this method of interment. It was my mother’s custom to decorate both the tomb on the outside and each grave plot on Memorial Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas. She almost always brought my brothers and me with her. It was actually a sort of family outing and the tomb fascinated us. One year a nest of baby rabbits rested in the grass atop the mausoleum, and this was a source of delight, so you can see that the family plot really wasn’t a place of fear for any of us.

Unfortunately this unusual resting place attracted vandals from time to time and although the doors of the tomb were locked with a large, old-fashioned key, they managed to break open the lock itself. No one ever seemed to damage anything else but the doors and it was a constant source of annoyance and expense to the family to have the place resealed and the lock repaired.

One summer day, my mother announced that it has happened again and we were duly loaded into her station wagon to go and survey the damages. It was a beautiful, hot day, probably in August although I don’t remember the exact month. When I was a child, summer vacations stretched long and the months and days meant little. Mother examined the doors which were ajar and the lock was as usual broken. She sucked her teeth, shook her head and went off to the car to obtain some tools to try and fix it herself. Money was tight that year and even back then locksmith fees for such a job were staggering.

Children are curious and we were no exception. Each of us in turn peered down into the cool darkness of the tomb, shivering in delight at our bravery. It was pitch down there and I do remember wishing I had the flashlight that was