I always sleep with my TV. on because
I fall asleep to a movie. Plus, I always woke up with some kind of light.
Well, ever since my roommate went home for a couple of weeks, it started
turning off by itself. It never did that before for the 4 years that I've
had it. I also know that no one else could be turning it off and that it
doesn't have a timer.
My roommate also came home one day,
while I was asleep, and went to turn off the TV and she said that right when
she was getting ready to that it switched off on it's own. You can ask all the
questions that you want. I just don't know how many I can answer because I'm usually
asleep when it turns off. Except one night when I was on the phone at about 2
am with my boyfriend I saw the TV turn off by itself.
The only other thing unusual that we
have noticed is that I have a strobe light next to my TV and one day my
roommate and I walked in and it was on. We unplugged after that so it hasn't
happen again. But we just assumed that it was the guy that owned the building
and never thought of it since...till now.
We live on NAS, not far from Ft. Barrancas
and not far from National Cemetery. I would appreciate any input you
could give. Because honestly it makes me kind of nervous. Thank you ever so
much.
NAS Mainside is no stranger to reports of
ghostly encounters. GHG has been allowed access to several areas that have
reported unusual and unexplained activity.
Fort
Barrancas and the
Light House
S. Lori Nelson
reported the following in a local paper.
An odor still lingers-
An eerie smell has been reported from the upper floors of the old hospital
aboard NASP. In an area near what used to be the operating room, the distinct
sanitized odor that only a hospital has which masks the multitude of festering
ailments, or worse yet death, will occasionally permeate the hallway leading to
the OR doors.
Call it coincidence, but what's more frightful is an inscription that has
appeared on the morgue doors-you know, where those unlucky OR patients end up.
"Help! Let me out!" and "Death awaits."
The 44-year-old building has received upgrades over time and is now Naval
Education and Training Command (NETC). However, the building's past just won't
go away. Employees over the years have recounted unexplained tales of copiers
that have turned on and off, pictures that have flown off desks and across
office rooms and ghosts that have been spotted in the hallways.
The killed keeper-
The chilling tales continue to pour forth as one nears the Pensacola Pass to the
south side of the air station-and we do mean pour.
The Pensacola Lighthouse ghost story goes back to the keeper and his wife. The
lighthouse construction was completed in 1858, and the living quarters for the
couple was immediately adjacent to the ships' guiding light. As the husband
slept in those quarters one night, his wife stabbed him to his death until his
life blood poured from his veins and covered the floor.
Years later, visiting psychologists who stayed at the lighthouse confirmed that
not one, not two, but three ghosts were roaming its hallways.
Speculation says two of the spirits are probably keepers who died of natural
causes while at the property. The third is most likely the murdered keeper...or
his wife.
The chips fall-
Bldg. 16 is yet another haunt aboard Pensacola Naval Air Station. It's one of
the oldest intact buildings from the Navy Yard days and has served as an armory,
chapel, dispensary, Commissioned Officers' Mess, School of Aviation Medicine,
Navy Relief Society and now the Judge Advocate General (JAG) office.
The building was built in 1834. Back in 1924 a Marine captain by the name of Guy
Hall enjoyed numerous games of poker beneath its roof. When the off-duty flight
instructor was playing cards, he was known for picking up his chips and letting
them fall back onto the table.
He died during a training mission, and on several occasions people have reported
incidents of hearing what they describe sounded like chips hitting a table, and
once, a table moving.
Commandant Melanchton B.
Woolsey is the person who leaves a, shall we say, "living" legacy in
the house. Woolsey was so horrified he would contract yellow fever that he
banned himself to the cupola. The rampant epidemic claimed the lives of many
people in the area during this time.
The belief was the disease-carrying mosquitoes could only fly up to 8-12 feet.
The cupola was above the third story. So Woolsey had his meals delivered by
basket and pulley as well as his preventative tonic-rum.
When his "tonic" wasn't sent up one day, he died shortly afterward and
since then, residents claim to have heard unexplained tapping and a sense of
being followed in the three-story house.
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