Christmas Time At Hazel's

(as told by Barbara McBeath of The Ghost Investigators Society)

Several years ago, just a couple of weeks prior to Christmas, Roger and I were approached by an acquaintance. He knew that we investigated locations that are reportedly haunted, and he wanted to tell us about an old abandoned farm house which was located in North Ogden. He and his girlfriend had an experience there that had scared the wits out of them while they had been scavenging the property for small treasures, and the experience made them both flee from there with fright. He told us that we should go and check it out, as he knew it was something that we would be interested in. We invited him to accompany us there, but he had no desire to go back. The idea of ghosts was something that he had always scoffed at, up until he had this experience, that is. After telling us about their experience, he provided us with directions as to it's whereabouts, but any further involvement with the place was out of the question, as far as he was concerned. There is a point here that I need to state. Most people that have a ghost experience are not looking for it. Ghosts are the farthest thing from most persons minds when it occurs. Many people that experience unexplained ghost phenomena had never given much thought about the subject at all, and when it happens to them it is a frightening experience. People have a tendency to fear what they don't understand, especially if it's an experience that cannot be explained in any rational way. This acquaintance was no exception. And, it was something that he had no desire to experience again.

Roger and I were anxious to get there and check out the house. Our acquaintance had told us that there were 'property condemned' signs in the windows of the house, so it could be torn down anytime. We contacted two other G.I.S. members, Brendan and Jenny, since they both live in North Ogden, and told them what had been relayed to us. Surprisingly, Brendan told us that they must drive by that house every day, due to it's locale, but they had never noticed it. Later in the day, after they had checked out the house and were relating to us about the place, they said they had probably never noticed it due to all of the over grown trees, bushes and shrubs that hid the house from view. They said that they had entered the house through the back door, and the house inside was trashed. Kids had obviously used the inside for paint ball fights, along with other mischief. The kitchen still contained old major appliances, but other than that, the place was empty. There were old sheds and a barn outside near the back of the house that still stood. And yes, there were the condemned signs in the windows. The house would probably be torn down soon.

For some reason that I do not recall, Brendan and Jenny were not able to accompany us the night Roger and I went there. A female friend went with us instead. It was just before dark when we arrived and pulled into the dirt driveway. We had our cameras, recorders and flashlights as we got out of the car. I noticed a mailbox in front of the house near the road and walked over to it. The name "Hazel S____" was the name on both sides of the mailbox, along with the house numbers below her name. I then turned my attention towards the house, which was almost impossible to see from the front. The excessive amount of overgrowth of shrubs and bushes hid the entire front and almost all of the one side. As I walked around to the far side of the house, it too was completely hidden by more overgrown shrubbery.

Even though there was no snow on the ground yet, the air was cold. I zipped up the white parka that I was wearing and as I was walking back around to the front of the house, I could hear Roger talking with our friend on the other side of the thick bushes near the house. In a loud whisper, I asked him what he was doing, although from the sounds he was making, I could tell he was making his way through the overgrowth. He answered back that he was trying to make his way to the front porch. I remember being surprised that there was a porch, because I had not seen it. I finally heard his footsteps walking across the wooden floor of the porch as I made my way over to our friend, who was standing near a newly made pathway that led into the thicket of tangled branches and bare sharp twigs on hundreds of branches, twisting among each other. Even with most of the leaves gone from all the mass of entangled mess in front of us, I could barely see Roger through it all. We heard him give a disgruntled mutter about a large branch that had grown across the porch and was blocking the front door.

"We'll have to go around the back to get in" he called out to us. "There's no way to get in this way."

"Good", I thought. I had no desire to try to make my way through that. I really didn't understand why he even attempted to try to go that way. Roger is such an adventurer.

We both waited for him to make his way back to us. While we waited, I remember walking back toward the road that passed in front of the house. It was so easy not to notice this poor old house behind all of the overgrowth. Only a small portion of the upper story of the small old wooden house was really visible. It had obviously been painted white at one time. There was also a small window up there that was partially exposed. It was starting to get dark now, with the sun setting behind the house, and I remember thinking that it would be so easy for someone to be watching us from up there. Anyone standing up there would not be seen looking down at us. That made me feel very uneasy. I always worry about someone we don't know of, lurking around at many of the places we go to. It is the living, not the dead, that I worry about.

I began to wonder about Hazel. Had she lived in this house for many years alone? Perhaps a widow for many years? If she was very elderly, the place would have easily had gotten out of her control. If her and her husband had been farmers for years, she was probably not the sort of person who could easily ask for help. I feel like people of that stock are very self reliant. I felt sympathy and sadness for her. Had she died alone in this house? Had she no children that could have helped her? I wondered how long the house had been vacant. Such questions where racing through my head, and some of the questions I was asking out loud.

Roger finally emerged, and the three of us walked around the side of the house, towards the back. The bushes thinned out as we got closer to the rear of the house, and I noticed the foundation of the house was made of stones, held together with mortar. This really was an old house. I imagined hardly anything was out this way when this home was first built. Now, it seemed like North Ogden was rapidly changing. What was once farmlands and orchards was now subdivisions of houses, offices, and stores. Once this old house was torn down, what was going to be put in it's place? We rounded the back of the house and spotted the back door. There were large rusted pieces of old farming equipment scattered about in the yard.

3

It seems that in the winter, once the sun starts to set, it disappears quickly, and by the time we reached the back door, it was dark. With our flashlights in hand and on, Roger opened the back door and shined his flashlight inside. Each one of us stepped in, one behind the other, and we called out to let anyone who may be in the house know that we were there and then we listened. All was quiet. The back door led directly into the kitchen. As we stood there in the dark, shining our flashlights around, we could see that Brendan was right...the place had been trashed. Paint splattered the walls, all of the cupboard doors were open, the old fridge was partially pushed away from the wall with it's door gaping open. There was an old oversized chair over in one corner of the kitchen, with the stuffing pushing out from it here and there. It was blocking the doorway to the bathroom of the house, which was off to the left of the kitchen.

Roger walked across the room to the kitchen counter, and as he was reaching into his coat pocket, he told us that he had brought a Christmas present for whoever may still be dwelling in the house. We often bring a token gift when we go to a location for an investigation. It is a peace offering and a gesture of good will toward any ghost that may be lingering at a place.

"Hazel, I brought you some Christmas candy and a small piece of a Christmas tree", he announced. "I know you can't taste it or smell it, but I'm sure you can remember." And with that said, he laid them out onto the kitchen counter.

While Roger was doing all of this, our friend and I had proceeded to walk into what I imagined must have been the living room. As we walked through this room, shining our flashlights about, we saw scenic paper pictures taped all over the four walls. They were the type of scenic pictures that are in calendars. They literally were plastered everywhere in the room, from the tops of the walls near the ceiling, and going down almost all the way to the floor.

"How sad", I whispered. I have been in elderly peoples homes, and have seen that this is something that some of them do. Especially those that do not get out much and do not get much company. I really was feeling so much sympathy for Hazel, even though my thoughts could have been entirely wrong concerning her.

The paint ball fights did not seem to have occurred in this room of the house, nor the rest of the house either, for all of the calendar pictures and all of the old style wallpaper that covered the remaining rooms walls were completely free from the paint splatters that covered the kitchen walls.

From what I assumed to be the living room, the next doorway led into the very next room, which I assumed to be the front bedroom. From there, we went through another doorway into what was probably a back bedroom. From there, we walked a few steps through a very short hallway, which was the only hallway in the house. In this short hall, we could take a long narrow stairway leading up to a loft, or continue straight ahead, which led back into the kitchen.

The entire time that our friend and I were walking through the house, we could hear Roger talking to Hazel. This is something that we do in The G.I.S. when we are at a location conducting an investigation. We always talk to any unseen occupant just as if it is a living person. We ask questions that we would like an answer to, hoping to record a voice in response. We actually carry on a one sided conversation most of the time. We could hear Roger telling Hazel that he wished her a merry Christmas, and that he hoped she didn't mind that we had stopped by to pay her a short visit. He had his back to us when we had left the room, and he was still standing at the same kitchen counter when we re-entered the kitchen from the short hallway.

I had mentioned to our friend while we had been walking through the house that I wanted to step outside and take a couple of pictures. I had been snapping off pictures as she and I had made our quick tour of the house, and I wanted to get some outside. We walked across the kitchen, and walked towards the back door, which was still partially open. As she and I were just about to step outside through the door, we heard Roger gasp behind us. We stopped and looked back towards him. He was hurriedly walking towards us, looking back over his shoulder. I could tell the way he was acting that something had happened.

"Oh, my gosh!" He kept whispering excitedly. "You just won't believe it!" He said as he finally reached us and started pushing us out the door.

"What?" we kept asking him. "What happened? What is it?"

He kept repeating "You just won't believe it. Hurry, get out." He kept looking back over his shoulder, as he quickly ushered us outside. "I'm sorry, Hazel, but you startled me.", he apologized to her, looking back into the kitchen as he hurriedly step outside with us.

Finally, he got his composure, and asked us if we saw anything in the kitchen next to him. We told him that we had just walked back into the kitchen, after making a quick tour of the house and we were just heading outside to take some pictures. Apparently, he had not realized we weren't in the kitchen with him that whole entire time. He said that as he was talking to Hazel, he felt someone walk up behind him, and put it's arms around him, giving him a loving hug, as he describes it. He thought it was me, and as he leaned his head towards his shoulder to nestle back to me. That was when he saw our friend, and me in my white parka, starting to exit the back door, a good twenty to thirty feet away! He said he was so shocked to see us both over there, ready to walk out the door, he couldn't believe it.

I took a few pictures while Roger was relating his experience to us. I believe Hazel accompanied Roger outside, because I believe I captured her on film while we were all standing there. I believe what Roger experienced really happened to him, and I believe that Hazel's ghost was grateful to have our company plus I believe she acknowledged to Roger the humble Christmas gifts he brought to her. He first described the hug as loving and I believe he sensed the gentle nature of poor Hazel. I hope she was able to sense the feelings we were experiencing towards her, too.

We returned a few more times after that, and then Hazel's house was torn down. All of the overgrown trees, shrubs and bushes are also gone. In their place is an office building, with a nice large parking lot behind it. Every time we drive by there now, we always wonder if Hazel is still there, or if she has moved on. I often wonder if the people who work in the new building have ever had any unexplainable occurrences take place there, and I have often been tempted to stop and inquire, but I have never done so.

That was Roger's first real personal experience with a ghost. It is an experience which, I believe, demonstrates how we keep our human traits, both as a ghost investigator and as a ghost.

Merry Christmas, Hazel.