Tales of The Abnormalities: Untold True Stories of Police Agencies with Paranormal Activity and Strange Oddities

By Larry Larman

The Tales of the Abnormalities are true stories I experienced over my years of exposure to paranormal and criminal activity.

Included are two tales, one religious and the other of an arachnid. While the pastor is a sad story of despair, the spider is an abnormal addition to a nature center of tremendous size and speed and is extremely dangerous.

Understanding these things do exist and similar events can occur, not only within Prince George's County, Maryland, but anywhere. These paranormal stories took place on historical properties with actual entities exposing themselves on a timely basis, both during the day and at night. The poltergeist story happening at the Surratt House became violent to the point of an actual assault on a female employee, forcing her to resign.

All the events in this book are actual occurrences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887939162

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Tales of The Abnormalities

Untold True Stories of Police Agencies with Paranormal Activity and Strange Oddities

Larry Larman

Copyright © 2023 Larry Larman

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

The following stories are based on facts resulting from my actual encounters with paranormal and violent situations during my employment with the Maryland National Capital Park and Planning Commission (MNCPPC) and the Office of the Sheriff, Prince George’s County, Maryland.

ISBN 979-8-88793-902-5 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88793-916-2 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1

Personal History

Chapter 2

The Survival

Chapter 3

The Occultations

Chapter 4

The Entity

Chapter 5

Governor's Bridge

Chapter 6

Old Hyattsville Courthouse

Chapter 7

The Salted Lot

Chapter 8

Blue Pond

Chapter 9

The Incident

The Incident at Lake Baikal

Chapter 10

The Screaming Lot

Chapter 11

The Pastor

Chapter 12

The Brutality of It All

Miscellaneous Mayhem

The True Criminal

Cross Street Park

The Pickle Man

The Suicide

Chapter 13

The Cruelty

Chapter 14

The Hit Men

Chapter 15

The Internal Pervert

Chapter 16

The Spider

Chapter 17

The Cat

Chapter 18

A Knock at the Door

Chapter 19

The Reality

Chapter 20

Courthouse in Upper Marlboro

Chapter 21

The Premonition

Epilogue

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Gina Larman, my wife, for always supporting and being there for me.

Christina Cheek and MaryAnne Leginus, for their unrelenting help and tireless devotion to the completion of this book.

To my earlier employer, the Maryland National Capital Park and Planning Commission (MNCPPC), and all the surrounding law enforcement agencies.

Introduction

I am not a historian. I am writing my own personal life experience based on vivid recollections burned into my memory, especially as a member of the law enforcement community. I am also including a portion of my own personal history, which I hope will give you some perspective about me.

You may find some of the episodes or incidents I describe as a police officer to be incredible or unbelievable. While I do not have video or audio to verify any of them, I assure you they are true. I know other officers who have witnessed unusual phenomena, like what I will describe for you. They will not come forward with experiences out of concern that their stories will be discredited as untruthful or exaggerated.

I understand the reader may be skeptical about the stories I am going to share. I would probably be a skeptic, too, if not for my share of sightings, sounds, and confrontations when I wasn't sure of what was really happening or what I was seeing.

I had many of these experiences working as a police officer, not as a ghost hunter. Like any investigator, I can explain with a reasonable degree of assurance the who, what, when, where, and why of many of these episodes. But there is more to each story. We as living beings do not exist alone. There are substances, like bad shadows or dark residues, which also occupy our space and time, in places where bad things have happened. People walked this earth before us, releasing and leaving behind both positive and negative energy, and now it's our turn. We will leave residue as well.

In most of the incidents described in this book, I will be focusing on the negative energy and the dark residue at locations throughout the State of Maryland's Prince George's County. Some, if not nearly all, the county park system's open areas have had deaths occur in them, and some parks more than others. Accidental or natural deaths, murders, suicides, and murder-suicides have all occurred within the park system. Shootings, stabbings, beatings…you name it, it has happened. Incidents like these do not just occur in cities. They happen everywhere and are not restricted to one place or one time. Sexual crimes constantly happen within the system due to isolation of the victims within a dark park. I always tell people to stay in populated areas where they will be seen to avoid becoming a victim of these types of crimes.

The Maryland Park Police are aware of problem areas and have always assigned appropriate resources to these areas, including a mounted unit and motorcycle and, foot patrols, as necessary. The current commander of Prince George's County Division, Chief Stanley Johnson, applies saturation techniques to patrol problem parks and prevent or eliminate problem situations effectively. The Maryland Park Police have always acted as a complete unit within the entire park system, including the Montgomery County Division. It is good to know there is a police system within the M-NCPPC that is a very effective unit.

Ghosts or shadows of what did exist, also known as residual hauntings, appeared to me by chance. A residual haunting or effect is not a ghost but energy left behind from a traumatic event. Buildings and locations can absorb this energy, which can replay repeatedly. The entities I encountered were people going about their daily business at the time they were accidentally killed or murdered and left within old buildings or mansions without receiving proper rites. The crimes left behind residual effects of events from the past.

There have been instances of instantaneous death, where people were killed but maintained their performance, unaware they were dead. These types of incidents have occurred in actual military battles. Mathew Brady Studios has a photograph of a Civil War soldier with musket still in hand, charging forward, looking straight ahead, not knowing he was dead. Dying quickly is much preferred to long, drawn-out suffering, such as can happen with disease or critical battle wounds which will not heal or being maimed so badly the person cannot function in their own in life.

The other side of the coin is knowing exactly what is going to happen to you and being unable to do anything about it, such as happens with drowning. In that case, the only thing to do is pray, if you have time.

I have discovered not all entities are shadows or light. Some are outlines of what did exist. Even Julius Caesar complained of ghosts within his palace. Not to be blasphemous, but Jesus Christ reappeared after death to his apostles, as reported in the Gospel. What I have experienced is something most people do not. I was in the field, exposed to these situations, not expecting to encounter what I did, but I would not trade my personal experiences for anything. I do not intend for this book to sound like religious writings, though my experiences have enlightened me to something beyond our physical being. Remember these words: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. I personally believe in these words and the animism of it all.

The leftover residue I have encountered and shared in these stories is meant to enlighten people and society about the existence of hidden energy and entities. Most of us are unaware of what is happening around us as these unusual experiences are not shared with us. This information is not being shared or intentionally blocked from becoming public knowledge.

Some of my stories within my personal life and career are very harsh, but as in any policeman's career, it is that way. The other incidents within this book are accounts of murders, perverts, rapists, and absolute criminals. Included within are oddities such as The Pastor and The Spider that, although not of a serious nature, were very odd situations that occurred to me and to others. The only difference is the spider was alive. It was found to be extremely dangerous due to its predatory nature, immense size, and its location within a nature center visited by small children.

Chapter 1

Personal History

My first memory of anything was a very disturbing scene. I had no idea what was happening, only that I had been awakened by screams and violence. With wide-open eyes, I became frightened to the bone as I watched the scene in front of me. I saw, within a corral, a large fire and a fifty-five-gallon drum filled with boiling water, smoke, and steam emanating from it. Men were tying screaming hogs by their feet, lifting them with a makeshift crane, slashing their throats with a large knife, shooting them in the head and lowering them, while still alive, into the drum of boiling water. The hogs thrashed violently, spilling the water onto the flame, almost dousing it. I stood there watching as these animals, one by one, suffered the same ending. I became so frightened, thinking I would be next, that I disobeyed my father's order to stand there and not move. I started to run.

My father chased me, asking, Where are you going, boy? This is not going to happen to you. He began talking to me, gently soothing my anxiety. Then reality set in. We were farmers, and the hogs were one of our food sources. I continued to watch this slaughter, the stripping of their skins, cutting them open, and contents spilling onto the ground. The smell of blood permeated in the air. I was watching this while being held in my father's arms. It was a disgusting necessity to understand farm procedures and life. It was not easy watching these animals have their throats cut. Even as a young boy, I knew they were being killed. I was three years old, and my father had me watch this cruel process so I would adjust to farm life. Later, when my mother provided dinner for us, I knew what it was and refused to eat. My father forced me to eat a piece of the fresh ham, and afterward, I was fine with it.

I was born in the town of La Plata in Charles County, Maryland. I was raised in a rural area known as Rison, Maryland. By the time I was four years old, I can remember my father in a drunken stupor on the floor, suffering from epileptic seizures due to acute alcoholism. My grandfather, who at the time owned and operated a sawmill, built the house I was living in. This was a small house occupied by a large family. It was on a small farm, with chickens, ducks, pigs, and a smokehouse for smoking hams and other meats, such as bacon. The farm was connected to my great-grandfather's property, a large farm of over 120 acres. My great-grandfather had numerous farm animals, including cows and horses.

When I was four years of age, my parents decided we were no longer welcome on the farm due to our expanding family and my father's actions. His drunken state, along with his unemployment, had finally forced my grandparents to expel us. We traveled around, lived in our car, and finally ended up in Atlantic City, New Jersey. In 1952, I attended the Atlantic City Elementary School. We resided on the inlet, directly in front of the old Absecon lighthouse, which remains there to this day. However, the house we lived in is long gone, now a barren lot. After leaving Atlantic City, we moved to Atlantic Street in Southeast (SE) Washington, DC.

I attended public schools in Washington, DC. The schools were integrated, and it was hard for a child to understand this situation within the public school system and the surrounding public housing. I became a ghetto kid in the Highland Dwellings, a public housing project for the poor in Southeast DC, where we resided in an old duplex. Along with my parents, I lived with my four brothers, two of whom were older (Bill and Dennis) and two younger. We fought all the time.

The heating systems where we lived were antiquated coal furnaces with coal bins, which held two tons of coal. At $2 a ton, coal was a luxurious expense for our family, so my brothers and I would take our toy wagon to the local woods and pick up wood to heat our home. Local residents would knock on doors, begging for old soda bottles so they could afford to eat. Money, as usual, was a luxury we did not have. To supplement our income, my older brother Dennis had a paper route in Congress Heights, Southeast, and I had a paper route with the Evening Star newspaper in Condon Terrace, Southeast. I also went to the ACME grocery store at Sixth and Chesapeake Street and offered to carry customers' groceries home for tips. On weekends, I would sometimes make up to $8, which was good money for a young kid at the time. My friends and I would scour our neighborhood for discarded soda bottles, which we would take to the ACME grocery for return deposits. To help heat our homes, my friends and I would chase the coal trucks, begging for the workers to drop some coal. Knowing we were all poor, they would drop chunks of coal for us.

On one occasion, the neighborhood kids and I were playing kickball at the back of our residence. One younger boy wanted to play, but he was too young to kick the ball, so I told him no. He ran into his house crying and told his adult sister that I beat him up. She approached me, yelling, You little White motherfucker! She began a pinwheel type of attack, digging canals