A ghost of a child who asked me to help her sister

A ghost of a child who asked me to help her sister   Dr.Steve Ramsey, PhD -Public Health  This is my true ghost story It was back in winter 1962, it was Friday night, almost 11 pm; my father was in an Iraqi political prison.  The nationalist pensioned him after they killed so many people…… Continue reading A ghost of a child who asked me to help her sister

Memories from the past

This black and white picture was taken back in 1963 in Baghdad city / Iraq. I am the one in the far left of the screen, my younger brother Raad in the centre with his muscular pose, Shaker at the far right , and Qaem in back centre. We were in grade 4 and best…… Continue reading Memories from the past

THE VOICE my mother true story of a guardian angel

At the end of a quiet road, behind a veil of twisted old palm trees, there was an old house. A woman lived there with her 3 children; her husband was in the political prison in Baghdad Iraq.

On bitter nights, she sat by the ala aldeen kerosene heater in her old house. She was making some home bread as it is cheaper for her, and she was washing clothes and ironing them as her side job to make money to survive in the unkind city of Baghdad at that time in the communist Shia backed government, just like the one we have now.

She did all her work and sent the kid to deliver the washed and ironed clothes to the neighbors and they can bring the money they gave, for them it was cheaper than the actual professional iron and laundry store, and to help this lady. She grew tired enough for sleep. The children were fed lentil soup and fresh bread as they couldn’t afford meat or fruit. But on this night, as her eyes grew heavy, she was startled by a sound. Sound that she hadn’t heard before despite that she saw many phantoms and entities in her life. The sound was calling her name, Fatima, Fatima is enchanting voice 

 Who could be calling her name, she wondered?  She rose from her old bed, and walked toward the sound in the dark part of the small house, and said in Arabic language, meno enta and shetreed? Who are you and what you want in this hour, and started praying and saying grace, with her long beads rosary.

Where are you, she asked?

“I’m here,” a deep well mannered voice said.

She was terrified and started calling God names and praying more, WHY, and “Who is this?” she asked angrily

while her hands were shaking to start the lantern as she didn’t have a flashlight, and the only electric light that were in the house was near the front door .she run to the kitchen and hold a knife in one hand and the lantern in other hand   screaming for help as loud as she could so hoping that someone outside can hear her as she was scared to go close to the door. The children woke up and started to cry so she put them in the corner of the room and each hold a kitchen knife whatever they could find to help their mother and they put a second lantern to brighten the place, the little child 5 years old sneak slowly to the front door and turn on the light and ran back to his mother.

I turned on the light mom, now can we see who is this intruder? he said to his mom. That child was me.

My brother Samir was 9 years and my other brother Raad was 4. Our house was an old house and part of other houses beside it that the landlord gave to my mother with very low rent as goodwill as he used to know my father.

My mother started to walk slowly around the place toward the door to make sure if the front door was closed

She asked again, I am going to call the neighbors, who is it? But there was no answer.

Samir my older brother called someone from the neighborhood; they came and checked the place for any intruder

but there was no one in the place.

But we heard a man’s voice too, we told the neighbor.

The skinny horse rider at the cemetery

This is a real incidents that had happened to me. One nice summer night, early in July 1975, in Baghdad City, Iraq, I left my work at Al Yarmook Hospital as I was working the second shift until 12 midnight. As I kept walking and every now and then, I turned to see if the…… Continue reading The skinny horse rider at the cemetery

Dead little girl who used to play in old hotel

The child woke up from his sleep after hearing the small mechanical toy train moving , he thought his brother returned from the school to play, suddenly he saw a little girl with old  Turkish fashion children clothes saying come and play with me in Arabic.  The child was surprised as this girl is not…… Continue reading Dead little girl who used to play in old hotel

CRIES IN THE DARK The Ghosts of Abu Ghraib Prison

CRIES IN THE DARK  The Ghosts of Abu Ghraib Prison   Special Report from Iraq by DAVID GOODWIN Author Dave Goodwin Traded in His Ghost Hunting Equipment for an M-4 Rifle When He was Sent to Iraq. He Never Expected to Find Ghosts in this War-Torn Country but He Quickly Found Out that Assumption was…… Continue reading CRIES IN THE DARK The Ghosts of Abu Ghraib Prison

My True Story – Our Haunted house

This story I call it 3 AM . I came down to the kitchen for breakfast on a Friday morning, my mom and my sisters are already up, and they look exhausted. My mom asked me, “Did you sleep alright?” “Yeah,” I said. “Even after you woke up?” “…I woke up?” when? Sometime in the…… Continue reading My True Story – Our Haunted house

True stories of Culture & Superstitions – Steve Ramsey

True stories of Culture & Superstitions 1- The Ghost in my my Life. In the late 1960s  my father was stationed in north Iraq army camp,  my family lived in an old large Turkish house in Baghdad with a water well, long corridors and large rooms.  ” That was an amazing house with an amazing structure…… Continue reading True stories of Culture & Superstitions – Steve Ramsey