Alice Good Medicine's (Apache) Story

Before I begin my story, I first have to tell you that this is going to be the last time I'll ever tell anyone about my experience.  Apaches don't like to talk about these things, and I don't like to talk about ghosts either.  I'm just going to tell this storyt because I think it's important for people to know that fhosts do exist, and we all should be most respectful of those who have passed on.

     Eight years ago, my husband Casey and I bought a house from a man in the resort town of Couldcroft.  Casey works as a ranger for the Forest Servicem and a fellow ranger told him about a very nice home that a guy was selling at a great price.  At the time we were looking to buy a house and when we heard about this property, we decided to check it out. Casey phoned the owner and made an appointment the next day for the both of us to have a look.  Following the directions the owner gave Casey, we entered a small canyon filled with tall pine trees. The house was located on three acres of land at the end of a dirt road.  Just a few other homes were in the area.  It was in a pretty isolated area.  We found out that the rear of the property bordered the Mescalero reservation. We both wondered why the asking price for the property was so low. We spotted the house, and as we drove up to the front door, we kept saying to each other, why is the price so cheap; there must be something wrong with it.  We met with the owner, who looked very thin and sickly.  He told us that he had cancer and needed to sell the house as soon as possible because of the medical bills that needed to be paid.  He gave us an inside tour of the house, but when he started to have difficulty walking, he asked us to walk outside on our own.

     As Casey and I toured the backyard and inspected the hot tub, water pump and septic system, we knew there would be no question about buying the property.  When we entered the house, we told the owner that we would talk to our bank that same day, and as far as we were concerned, it was a done deal.

      A few weeks later, we moved into the house and began cleaning and removing trash left behind by the owner.  Before we moved in, the owner told us that he was only going to remove what he could, and we could keep what he left at the house.  We found several boxes filled with old receipt books, and lots of photographs taken of womenís hairstyles.  One box had scissors, combs and everything that a beauty shop would need. In the basement we found one big box filled with bottles of hair dye and blow dryers.  We put most of these things in the pick-up and dropped them off at the Indian Employment Training Center on the reservation.  I kept a hair dryer and some brand new hair curlers that were still in their original plastic bags.  Casey found some tools in a crawl space, dusted them, and hung them in the garage. There were other smaller boxes that we could see with a flashlight, way in the back of the crawl space.  Because of where these boxes were located, and all the dust, we decided to leave them where they were until we finished with the other more important chores. Everything else, we got rid of.  We installed new rugs in the living room and the three bedrooms, and then painted the whole inside of the house.  The owner had left a washer and dryer as part of the sale of the house, and I had to move these away from the wall in order to paint.  When I moved the dryer, I spotted some sheets of papers and envelopes that the owner must have misplaced.

     I picked them up and read them aloud to Casey.  They were personal letters addressed to the previous owner of the house from another man, named Gary.  The ex-owner of our house had been in love with Gary and these letters mentioned that Gary had AIDS.   They were touching letters about Gary's illness and his battle with AIDS.  In one letter Gary mentioned that he was looking forward to visiting for the Christmas holiday.  There were birthday cards and other letters with poems and things like that.  Casey told me to put the letters in a box and keep them for the owner. Casey said, Who knows, he might call or pay us a visit one day.

     About a month after my husband and I settled into the house, we began to feel some strange things.  Casey and I always sensed that someone was in the house watching us.  As we were alone in the house watching television, there were times when we would both hear a voice call out from another room.  We would hear, Hey! being called out to us.   We would get out of our chairs to investigate who was in the house, but there would never be anyone in the rooms or in the yard.  Other times I would hear my name being called, and when I would turn to look, I clearly spotted the shadow of a man standing in the next room, then quickly fade away!  Casey also saw this same shadow walk from the bedroom to the bathroom one night. In the kitchen, knifes would be removed from the wood knife block, and in the morning, I would find them spread out in the sink! In the bedroom a strange thing took place.  One day as I went to look for a record album, I opened my closet door, and discovered that all my record albums were warped!  Like an intense heat had melted them.  The strangest of all these experiences took place one night.

       Earlier in the day, Casey called to tell me he was going to be late coming home.  I decided to soak in the hot tub out back that night. While I was soaking away, I noticed something moving at our upstairs bedroom window.  I looked up and saw a tall man standing at the window, staring down at me!  This terrified me and I froze!  I just kept staring at this figure until I heard Casey's truck come up the driveway.  When I saw Casey come into the bedroom, I yelled for him to open the window, so that I could talk to him.  When he opened the window I yelled, Who's that guy standing next to you? Casey looked to his left and said, You see someone standing next to me, where? I yelled back, Right there.  Don't you see him? After I said this, the ghost walked slowly away from the window, and disappeared.  Casey never saw anyone in the bedroom with him. I decided then and there to move out of the house.  I told Casey, That's it, the house is haunted and we're out of here! He agreed with me, and we contacted a real estate company.  By the end of the month, it was sold. I didn't want to haggle with the price, so when the first offer was made we took it!

     A year later, I was driving through Cloudcroft when I decided to stop and pay the new owners of the house a visit.  I was curious about what they might have experienced.  I never told the realtor or the new owners about our ghost experiences, so when I visited the new owners, I acted as if I had nothing else on my mind. I met with the wife, and sure enough, our conversation soon turned from talking about the garden and pesky deer to ghostly shadows and voices coming from empty rooms.  All along I acted as if this was all new to me. Then after a couple of minutes, I began to feel nervous, and I asked her if we could continue our conversation outside.

     I felt much safer talking outdoors.  She told me that her husband was seeing shadows of a strange man, and feeling the touch of a hand, that would sometimes touch his face.  She herself would hear voices calling her name, and one time she heard a noise, which sounded like someone breaking dishes in the kitchen.  Then she stopped, and said she was going back into the house, to bring back something they recently discovered in the basement.  She came back with a white envelope and a ceramic jar.  She gave me the envelope and told me to look inside.  I noticed that on the outside of the envelope, the name "Gary" was written in pencil.  When I looked inside I saw folded tissue paper. She asked me to unfold the tissue.  When I did this, I saw that there was a lock of brown hair taped to the back of a small photograph of a thin man about fifty.  I got the shivers and gave the envelope back to her.  I asked her where she had found the envelope.  She said that one day she was cleaning the closet shelves in the bedroom, and discovered it on the highest shelf. Before I got around to telling her about the love letters I had found in back of the dryer, she started to tell me about the green ceramic jar on the table before us that her husband had found in the basement.  One day as he was in the basement, he spotted a group of small boxes in the crawl space.

      He used a long pole to pull them towards him. They were covered in thick dust, so he decided to carry them outside and open them in the fresh air. The first box contained old stuffed animals. The other smaller box contained the green jar.  She told me the jar had a taped seal around the edge.  Her husband used a knife to cut through the thick tape, and when he opened it, they found a small, clear plastic bag filled with what they thought was white sand.  The bag was tied with a red cord, and a hand written label was attached to the cord.  On the label was written: "remains of Gary Bullock. " Right before me on the table was this jar, and the ashes of Gary Bullock! That was enough for me.  I told the wife that I was getting scared.  I needed to go and be on my way. I also told her that she needed to get rid of the jar and ashes.  I said I would visit her again some time, but Iíve never gone back to that house again.   And I never will!

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