The Moving Chair

It was a slow day at The Wartha Inn. The business had slowed due to covid and gathering restrictions. We had just reopened and activity was at an all time high. The spirits of the building had missed the gatherings and interactions. Sometimes I think the building itself has a pulse of its own feeding off of the energy of unsuspecting guests. Creating negativity among employees so it can feed. It comes in waves there, the activativity and the negativity. I know somehow it is connected. Working in a place this active for as long as I did took its toll. I don’t care who you are or how good your boundaries are, if you are sensitive this overactive environment day and day out regularly takes a toll on you. It can affect your physical health as well as your mental health and then add in the negative atmosphere they create amongst workers and it is as toxic as an environment can get.

I worked there just shy of two years and by the time I left I was not in a good mental or physical state. I was constantly energetically depleted, sickly, and stressed. The activity at times hostile and toxic became too much in the end and I had to protect not just myself but my family because it became all too regular of a thing for stuff from there to follow me home, sorry but no. My kids being sensitive didn’t need that either. Besides one needs a reprieve I was already spending too much time there. I had been ignoring small influxes of activity there for a few reasons, being busy was one but you would be amazed at how much you start tuning out because it is such a regular thing.

This particular day something or someone wanted to be acknowledged. I was standing at a large heavy wooden desk out in the hallway, my boss was writing out the paper for the day with all of the things we had to do. As she is writing I am looking off across this table. I hear the loud scoot before I saw the scoot and I’m not sure why there was an odd delay. This wasn’t a small lightweight chair this was a wooden clawfoot antique chair. It scooted over to the right side no one was standing there and no one else was in the hallway with us. I stood there in a state of shock of all of my experiences this was the first time I saw a piece of furniture like that move itself. Obviously something propelled it, but no one was visible. It was very obvious and noticeable so I acknowledged it. I mentioned it to a few people within a month they removed the chair and threw it out. As if the chair was the issue, but okay. I’m sure the official story is they just wanted to change the decor, but I don’t believe so. The owner isn’t fond of the activity there and doesn’t want it spoke of. He is honestly resentful of it and despises his own experiences he has had there. It a place full of history, heartache, death, and secrets, the perfect recipe for paranormal chaos.

Published by izzysconfessions

I was born and raised in the smallest of towns in Southwest Virginia. A town that is extraordinarily active, yet a town that is like it's very own little mini Bible belt. My dad was Baptist, my mom pentecostal, and I'm paranormal. I would venture to say it is somewhat of a family trait. One that is met with equal acceptance and curiosity as much as it is met with skepticism. Individually and collectively so much has been experienced and witnessed at times to such a degree that one might wonder how on earth there is room for doubt. I dont have all the answers, I do not have it all figured out. Im as human as everyone else relying heavily many mornings on a lot of coffee and a little Jesus. In fact, I can't decide what I want for dinner most days. One constant is I cannot go a single day without chocolate. Pour a cup of coffee, or a little tea and whiskey and join me in my confessions of a haunted freak.

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