Disclaimer: Because of the rapidly approaching finals, we are going to do something little different these next two weeks. Instead of our normal ghost hunting adventures, we are going to do interviews. While these aren’t accompanied by my own personal experiences, getting the highlighted parts of a person’s entire life can lead to a much more action-packed adventure. Let me know what you all think, and if you or someone you know would be willing to do an interview send an email to strangeplaceskentucky@gmail.com!

Debbie first moved into the old John Logan house in the fall of 1979. The house, previously owned by her friend was left vacant after the owners fled in the middle of the night when the front of their box fan they had in the living room broke off and was thrown across the room for apparently no reason. The house stood vacant for nearly three whole months before Debbie, her husband, their two kids, and two of their brothers moved in.

Debbie’s first experience, she remembered, was when she stepped out onto the back porch to watch the tractor they had hired to cut down the overgrown grass in their yard. She stood on the threshold of the back door when suddenly she got hit in the back so hard that she fell off the step and flew off the back porch.

She recanted that the man on the tractor had noticed her fall, and being the gentleman he was, hopped off the tractor and ran to check on her. She tried, in her mind, to justify this as simply being hit by the back door. But, that simple explanation, does not explain the angry presence she felt throughout the house. She told me stories about how her brother's room would be messed up when they came home, and at one point, her husband’s brother’s bed had even been turned sideways.

One night, she explained, she was giving her children a bath in the upstairs bathroom when she kept hearing someone yell her name from downstairs. She would stop the bath, trot downstairs, and find only confused looks from the three men in the house. Assuming they were messing with her she returned to the bathroom only to be called downstairs again.

Obviously agitated the men of the house explained they had no idea what she was talking about. At this point, she finished her kids' bath, and yet, the calling persisted. Figuring maybe she could be seen from outside, she and the three men searched the area around the house to no avail.

One time she heard a loud noise from upstairs as if something had hit the floor. Assuming it was one of her children falling from her bed, she rushed upstairs taking them two at a time. She told me she always left the light on at the top of the stairs in case one of the kids woke up.

As she approached the top of the stairs she stopped in her tracks. She told me that a man was suddenly in front of her and as her eyes ascended the man’s figure he became more and more transparent, until, she could see clear through his chest up to the banister and light at the top of the stairs. She closed her eyes and tried to scream, but nothing would come out. Once she opened her eyes the man was gone and never seen again. She rushed upstairs and both of her children were sleeping soundly.

The experiences were not limited to just her, though, both of her children can tell you tales of soldiers marching through the home in the middle of the night, bloodied and bruised or even that too common feeling of someone watching you from outside your bedroom window, however, their rooms? On the second floor. Yeah, I’m already trying to go to this house.

Towards the end of her living in the John Logan house, the spirits seemed to “warm up” to her and her children. The brothers had moved out at this point and her husband was gone working for the railroad. She told me a story about one time getting sick at work and coming home to take a nap. Her mother had picked up the kids and she was alone in the house.

She fell asleep for hours, but when she woke up she was firmly tucked in, to the point of not easily being able to free her arms from her sides. Assuming someone had come home while she was sleeping, she searched the house. Throughout the house the lights were on and, in their old stove heater, a fire had been built. She waited for her husband to come home from the store, nope. She called her mother to see if she had come back by, nope. Called the railroad to see if her husband’s train had even come back in yet, nope.

She finished our interview by telling me about how she would walk through the house and rooms would, literally, light up when she entered. She explained to me that the wiring throughout the house had been redone before she moved in and the house was completely modernized by then.

The last thing she said to me was that while the family was often out in the yard, because, let’s be honest, it was the eighties, there was no internet and nothing on the television, they would see people watching them from the windows.

Her closing testimony was one of almost nostalgia. “they seemed to care about us,” she explained, “whether they’re angels, demons, or spirits, I definitely think there was energy in that house, and, in this world, we don’t understand.”