Scaredy cats — or something more?

Judy Mason, Arnada
My brother Tim Kelly moved to a funky little bullet house in the middle of a barrio in Ventura, Calif. I had gone to visit him and we were sitting in the living room talking and laughing one evening, when suddenly a cold breeze surrounded us.
His two young cats leapt into the air, hair standing on end as they hissed and growled, circling the room and jumping on the top of the couch, chairs and tables. It took almost fifteen minutes to calm them down.
Stunned, we went to the back of the house to close any doors or windows that were open, but everything was closed.

Tim casually mentioned, “By the way there is a tombstone in the backyard with the name of a nun inscribed on it.”

He had felt strange things happen in the house before. He moved shortly after.

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