An Old Funeral Home and A Soldier

I would like to begin with saying that this story really does not belong to me, it belongs to my mother. This is a story that has been told and retold to me as a child and I would like to share it.

My mother's story begins around June of 1984. At that time my mother was living in Atlanta Georgia with my Dad. Since they were just starting out they did not have a lot of money. The only place they could really afford was to rent an old house that during the Civil War era was a funeral home. It could have been the fact that the house used to be an old funeral home that had my mother's nerves on end. My mother however says that from the moment she walked into that house she knew something was just not right.
It could be an 80-100 degree day outside and it would be freezing inside. My mom said she always had goose bumps on her arms and always felt like she was being watched.

The first part of my Mom's story happened when she was watching a cousin of mine, who was three at the time. My cousin had gone to use the bathroom, when my mom heard him talking to someone. My mom was confused because my Dad had not come home from work. My mom went and put her ear up to the bathroom door. My mom could hear my cousin as clear as day. What freaked my mom out was that when my little cousin would ask a question, there would be a deep voice that would reply back. My mom however could not make out what the deep voice was saying. When my cousin came out of the bathroom my mom asked him who he had been talking to. My cousin replied innocently enough, "I was talking to the soldier." My mom asked, "The soldier?". "Yes" said my cousin "he says he is cold." My mom rushed my little cousin to the front room and did not leave until my dad came home.

The second part of the story really is just strange things that would happen to my mom. She would be in the bedroom watching T.V. and this smell of rotting flesh and formaldehyde would come strongly from the edge of the bed. She said it was enough to make you vomit.
One last thing to add is that there was always something wrong with the lights in the house. Sometimes they would go out for no reason. My dad would go and check the fuse box and there would be nothing out of place and then a few minutes later the lights would turn back on again. Sometimes though they would not go out completely, they would dim and pulse for half an hour.

I hoped you enjoyed the story, I most certainly enjoyed telling it.