The Mystery of the Crunchy Ghost

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Cultural anthropologists have spent a couple of centuries studying peoples all over the world. In doing so, they have discovered, and described, an amazing variety of beliefs, norms, and customs within our species. But they have also discovered a small number of common elements that seem to be universal across space and time within the human race – and one of those is belief in ghosts or whatever one terms the spirits of the deceased. The main exception seems to be modern Western society; even so, as much as one-third of people living in this society of supposedly rational non-believers in the supernatural report having at least one ghostly encounter in their lives.

I consider myself lucky that I grew up in a family that accepted ghosts as matter-of-fact and in an old historical town that was absolutely chock-a-block with haunted buildings: domiciles, businesses, churches, rectories – you name it, it was haunted! Whole books have been written about the ghosts of my hometown: I may share some of them in the future if the spirit moves me to do so.

When I was in Grade 5, there was a program that encouraged students to purchase books at a very affordable price. There was a wide variety of genres and titles available in the catalogue. And what did I purchase? Why, books of true Canadian ghost stories, of course! I could never get enough. True ghost stories never scared me; rather, they fascinated me. And I hoped that perhaps, one day, I would have a ghostly experience. What’s the saying about being careful of what you wish for?

During part of my college years, I rented a room in a quaint bungalow located in a quiet suburban neighbourhood. Well, at least it appeared to be quiet! The landlady lived on the main floor and rented out one bedroom on the main floor and the basement. She was a pleasant, well-read person and a good conversationalist. Soon after I moved in, we started talking about ghosts and she told me about some of the really old houses in the neighbourhood which were notoriously haunted. She also laughingly told me that the basement tenant swore that her house was haunted – she totally dismissed his claim. Maybe she should not have been so dismissive…

At the time that I moved in I worked night shifts as a security guard for a trucking company. Most nights I would get home around 1:00 or 2:00 am. Then I would crash until I had to get up in the morning for classes. What I really wanted was a few hours of undisturbed sleep. But soon after moving in, I found that getting to sleep was a major issue.

It was mid-winter: one of those winters that had a foot or more of snow on the ground. My bedroom was in the back of the house and had an exceptionally large window that looked onto the snow-filled backyard. Soon after I moved in, noticed a strange pattern: shortly after coming home from my work shift, I would go to bed and almost like clockwork at around 1:30 am, I would hear a “crunching” sound in the backyard: the kind of sound that is made when a person is walking through deep snow that has either freezing rain mixed in or has partially melted so that major crystallization has occurred. The sound would start in the side yard and would make its way through the backyard. What on Earth is somebody doing walking around in a suburban backyard at that hour? Is some teenager trying to sneak home in the wee hours using this backyard as a short cut?

After hearing these “crunchy” footsteps a couple of nights in a row, I mentioned it to my landlady. She was stumped and suggested that it might be mice nibbling on wires in the basement. The next night that the sound came, I listened carefully to the wall and debunked her explanation. Next, I inspected the snow-covered side yard and backyard and found only faint impressions of footprints that had been covered over  with many inches of snow. But the pattern kept on repeating. It became a bit of an obsession for me: after coming home from work, I would sit next to the side door waiting to “catch” the trespasser, but I never saw any such person.

As the pattern continued, I listened more closely to the sound of the footsteps. More often than not, the crunching would come right up to the patio that was just outside my window and stop – and that would be the end of the night’s ruckus. I would even part the curtains in my room and look to the patio when I could hear the steps – but nobody and nothing out of the ordinary was visible in the mid-night gloom. It was only after exhausting all rational explanations for the crunchy footsteps that I accepted that the source was supernatural.

About a month after I accepted this supernatural explanation, the situation escalated. One night I was in my bed: it seemed like a dream in which I looked at the big window from where I was sleeping and I saw a human-like form on the patio looking at me -- and then the being’s head passed straight through the window (without breaking it) and extended on a giraffe-like neck right to my face. (No alcohol, drugs or any kind of psychedelics were involved, as I have eschewed them right from my early teens) Like in a typical “hag” visitation, I was unable to move but was able to shout in surprise – but it did not sound like my own voice. And then the experience immediately ended.

Not too long after that I got “hagged.” (For those who are not familiar with the term, it is the fairly common, nay universal, phenomenon of violently waking up with a feeling of a malevolent entity sitting or pressing on one’s chest, making it exceedingly difficult to breathe, combined with bodily paralysis and an intense feeling of ill-will from the entity. The night hag is explained away with the term “sleep paralysis” by rationalists; an explanation that I totally reject.) What I experienced was a “classic” version of the experience described above. The feeling on my chest and the malevolent will of the “being” were intense, but I was able to combat it with prayers for protection and then had the presence of mind to mentally imagine myself pummeling my invisible assailant.

The following morning, I told my landlady about my disturbing experience. Then she told me that her father was not a nice man: he was very possessive and territorial – and he had died in my bed some years ago. We never discussed the matter again.

Interestingly, after that “hagging” incident, the crunchy footsteps in the backyard stopped. Completely.  Along with all other supernatural disturbances.

At the time that I was living in the haunted bungalow, I did not know of any practical methods for making a ghost unwelcome or unable to manifest. But as soon as I learned the likely identity of my supernatural assailant, I spoke to him explaining who I was, why I was occupying the room, that I meant no harm or disrespect to anyone, but that I was determined to stay. I’m not sure if such communication helped the situation or not, but I was relieved that nothing spooky ever happened in my room again.

That was neither my first ghostly experience nor my last. But looking outside my snowy backyard today I was reminded of my experience with the “crunchy ghost” nearly 40 years ago.

Lots of ink has been spilled by plenty of writers, philosophers, researcher, theologians and the like about ghosts and what they “really” are. And over the decades I have read a fair bit about it. But I also need to “ground truth” these explanations with my own experience. And what I can say is that much of the ghostly phenomena can be attributed to a loved one who has recently passed on – crossed the veil so to speak – and who wants to communicate something that they consider to be important, even if it is simply, “don’t worry, I’m OK.” A great deal of other ghostly phenomena seem to be mindless repetition of an event or situation: the ghost does not interact with the observer, or may not even seem to be aware of the observer, and performs the particular activity as if it were a glitch in time (some people call this the “stone tape” theory). Then there are the minority of ghostly experiences where the spirit interacts or communicates with the witness but is not a relative: these are the creepier experiences and my “crunchy ghost” story fits well within that pattern.

So, yes, I have a lifelong fascination with ghosts. And I like a good ghost story – especially if it is a true one. But I’d rather not be bothered by one. I do not consider cohabiting with the spirits of the dead to be particularly “healthy” (they can mess with one’s dreams pretty badly, which then affects one’s behaviour and, if carried on for too long, warp one’s character). Spooks, to me, are like vermin: if they don’t bother me, I won’t bother them – but if I notice their presence, it is time to get expelled or take the next step in the afterlife. No hard feelings: it’s just my house isn’t big enough for the two of us!