Unexplained Phenomena

By Cliff Anderson

Could you imagine sitting on your friend's couch all night with a gun in your hand hoping the Grim Reaper you just seen doesn't come inside to get you? Or being pushed down the stairs by the ghost of your home's former owner? Well those are just 2 of the 60 real-life paranormal stories that are talked about in this great collection of unexplained phenomena.

 

"This book is really great! I love the supernatural twist put into it. Well written. A must have for anyone who enjoys a good scare." -Candice

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tiger Wolf Press
• Release date: Sep 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393649694

Book preview

NEVER ENDING CARE

I'm a graduate of medical laboratory science, and I will be attending medical school next year. My experiences occurred when I was an intern in the laboratory of one of the private hospitals in my city.

It was my first day as an intern, and my first rotation was in the clinical microscopy section of the laboratory. I was partly nervous and partly excited when I entered the lab.

One of the staff members greeted me, and gave me a short orientation about everything that I needed to know when I was inside the laboratory, the do’s and don’ts. I wasn’t the only intern working there that day, so I was glad that I was with some of my classmates.

I was on my way to the locker room, which was located between the microbiology section and the staff room, to put on my PPE (personal protective equipment), when I noticed that one of the staff members was standing near the intern's locker room wearing a white uniform. I greeted her politely and she smiled back.

I assumed that she was the chief med. tech., because she was the only worker there that was wearing a white uniform. The regular staff had color-coded uniforms for each day of the week.

A week had passed with the same routine every day, but on Thursday through Saturday I was scheduled to work at night; the graveyard shift. The staff members there were all nice to me, and it wasn't too long before I could confidently talk to them like we had been good friends for a long time.

One night I was working on the graveyard shift. I was talking to the head of the serology section, and I talked to him about the chief med. tech. whom I always found standing near the entrance to the microbiology section. He asked me what I wanted to know about her. I told him that I was curious as to why I always seen her in the lab, no matter what my schedule was.

He told me that she was only in the lab during weekdays, that she only worked during the day, and that she stayed in her office. I must have been looking a bit confused, so he asked me to describe the lady that I was talking about.

I told him that I never really stared at her face because I think it's rude to stare at people. She was a Mestiza wearing a white uniform under her lab gown and her hair was neatly tied.

He didn't say a word, but he then showed me an old album with a group photo on the first page. It was a photo of a group of people with white uniforms that looked exactly like the one the chief med. tech. wore. He then asked me if I could point out the lady I had been telling him about.

I pointed the lady out to him, and the next thing he did was show me his arms. His arms were covered with goosebumps. I laughed at him and asked him what was wrong.

He told me that the lady I had pointed out in the picture died of breast cancer back in 2012. She was the former head of the serology section and they were really good friends.

She had a daughter, and he told me that after learning that the cancer was spreading, and that she might only live for a few more months, she told him that she was never going to be ready to leave her little girl or her job at the laboratory, because she had been really close friends with the staff.

After learning about her story, there were only two days left before my rotation in that lab ended, so I prayed, and even lit a candle for her soul.

She was also the best friend of my C.I. (clinical instructor) in clinical parasitology. On the night of the anniversary of her death, my C.I. told me that she had heard a whisper in her ear while she was sleeping, but she never told me what the whisper said.

After I found out that she was a ghost and not a living person, I still seen her during the final two days left of my rotation in that hospital. I still greeted her with Good morning/ Good evening Ma'am! but she never responded verbally, and only gave me a smile like before.

After that, I was transferred to a public hospital and then back to my university’s clinical laboratory. She looked very normal. Unlike in the movies, there was no floating body, no creepy pale face or whatever.

"It makes a lot of sense that the former head of the serology section would become a ghost after her death, because she died prematurely and had a long life ahead of her that she was not able to experience in the physical realm. Her daughter was young; she enjoyed working with her co-workers, and helping people.

What I thought was most interesting, was that the lady who experienced this story couldn’t tell that the former head of the serology section was a ghost until after she was told about the ladies death. Most of the time, people seem to be able to tell the difference between a ghost and living person. But in this case, the ghost appeared completely life-like."

Location: Philippines

FIRE IN THE NIGHT

My mother lived in my village just a few minutes’ walk away from my house. I had seen her on the Friday before Mother's Day, and had given her a card and some chocolates. We had a nice chat and she seemed to be very relaxed.

Around that time, I had recently experienced a very serious migraine that had resulted in me being kept in a hospital overnight. All of my symptoms had pointed towards a possible stroke or something worse. So I had undergone a number of tests and scans on my brain.

I didn't tell my mother all the details because I didn't want her to worry. She knew that I had been in the hospital, and that I had to go back and forth for tests. That and work kept me very busy, so I didn't get to see her for a couple of weeks. However, I called her every day.

It was Wednesday, my day off, and I had to go in for tests at the hospital on that Friday. I called my mother to ask if she would come along with me; giving me some support and it would also give me a chance to catch up with her. She didn't get to go out much. We chatted for a long time and she seemed happy, relaxed and young.

She had been experiencing problems with her memory; however she was lucid and almost excited. It was probably the best conversation that I had ever had with her. I kept forgetting to ask her if she would come to the hospital with me. It would be on the tip of my tongue, and then I would just forget to ask.

Later that night she called me. I thought I must ask her. Again, I kept forgetting and she seemed like she wanted to say something to me but didn't know how. She then said,

Chris, let me know how things go on Friday won't you?

It wasn’t really a strange thing for her to say, but there was something that hung between us. Like a space that was meant to be filled with goodbyes and I love you’s. It was strange. I again forgot to ask her to come along. I wanted her to come because I was nervous, but I kept missing the opportunity to ask.

On Thursday I worked a long day, and spent most of the afternoon visiting housebound people doing assessments on their information needs. I visited a woman who was caring for her two elderly parents, and they both had dementia. The woman was so dedicated to their care, it was very touching.

They were warm and comfortable, and were talking aimlessly to each other, but the woman was always checking to make sure that they were okay. I did some reminiscing with them but soon realized that we had little to offer them, maybe a few CD’s of radio shows and music from when they were younger. However, for the rest of the day I just thought of the woman who cared for them.

On my way home at night, I would drive past my mother's house, I always looked to see if her lights were on and she seemed okay.

However on that night, I drove on, and when past, I realized that I hadn't looked, which was very unusual for me. I got home and kept thinking about calling her, but it was late and I was tired, so I went to bed because I had to go to the hospital in the morning.

On my way up the stairs I seen a shadow, it looked like a small slim person had run up the stairs in front of me. It was strange but I thought it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. I was ill after all.

I woke up and heard a voice telling me that I needed to call my uncle Dave to tell him that my mom was dead. It was clear and strong, but I shrugged it off as a part of a dream that I didn't remember.

I looked in my wardrobe to decide what to wear, and I heard my mom say,

Choose the pink top, it's nice.

I replied in my mind that I would have, but that I was having tests done that day, so it probably wasn’t a good idea to wear something that nice. It didn't surprise me to hear her voice; I felt strange, oddly relaxed. My mom had always liked me in pink.

I went to the hospital and decided that I would stop by my mom’s house on the way home and visit. When I neared the village turn-off, I went into a strange dreamlike state and I missed the turn completely. I had to drive in the back way, so I didn’t get to drive past my mom's house.

I thought,

Oh well, I will just call her instead.

I got home and slept. Then I did everything except call my mother. I saw the