Rocking Chair
We have a rockingchair that has been the centre of much activity over the 15 yearssince my grandfather has died. It was his favourite chair, andafter his death we inherited it. First, a week after his death,my mother and father were sitting upstairs on the third floor ofmy grandparents' house, having a conversation with my grandmother.My father was sitting in the rocking chair. Suddenly, my fatherwent to sleep in the middle of talking to my mother andgrandmother. They attributed it to extreme stress and exhaustionfrom my grandfather's death. About five minutes later, they heardthe front door open. They heard my father (who was stillupstairs, mind you) on the first floor say from the first floor,"Hello, Harold. how was your day?" to my lategrandfather (whose name was Harold), and then heard my deadgrandfather reply, "Fine George." Then they heard mygrandfather go into the kitchen. My father immediately woke up.My grandmother said, " DON"T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!!!"My father understood immediately.
Then, about five years later, when I was 12, I was on the backporch of my house (to which the chair had been moved), when Ifelt something strange going on-- I couldn't place it, but I knewsomething was dreadfully not right. I turned around, and therocking chair was rocking furiously back and forth, althoughthere was no wind. I ran inside, and woke my mom up. She *knew*it was my grandpa. This happened frequently for the next fiveyears, until we moved.
In the meantime, I spotted my beloved childhood pet, Fudge (a cat),a number of times on that chair, years after she passed, evenafter the furious rocking stopped. She had loved that chair inlife, as well.
All of this activity stopped as soon as we moved to our presenthouse this past August. No rocking, no projections, no cats. All,for once, seems to be well. Still, I make a point of pointing outour "haunted chair" to visitors.