Chicken Salad and Ghosts

This book is partially an autobiography and part female mystery adaptation. But first, let me introduce myself: I am Nonni in this book. As I am writing this, I can hardly believe it's been over thirty years since the depicted events took place. You may not believe in ghosts, and I am not documenting these experiences to convince you. I'm simply writing this book because, when reflecting on these memories in my life, thought they were worth sharing with others, both believers and nonbelievers. Back in the seventies I owned a shop in the basement of a three-story, early 1900s house for three years. Though the area was quite small, I managed to keep it well stocked with hand crafted items representing over one hundred consignors. Above my business was the two-story house that functioned as an antique store. As the strange events began taking place, and then increased in frequency, Cookie, who owned the antique store, and I assumed that someone was playing pranks on us. What other explanation could there be? But that was until we began sharing our experiences with other shop owners and found that they, too, had stories to share.

This book is partially an autobiography and part female mystery adaptation. But first, let me introduce myself: I am Nonni in this book. As I am writing this, I can hardly believe it's been over thirty years since the depicted events took place. You may not believe in ghosts, and I am not documenting these experiences to convince you. I'm simply writing this book because, when reflecting on these memories in my life, thought they were worth sharing with others, both believers and nonbelievers. Back in the seventies I owned a shop in the basement of a three-story, early 1900s house for three years. Though the area was quite small, I managed to keep it well stocked with hand crafted items representing over one hundred consignors. Above my business was the two-story house that functioned as an antique store. As the strange events began taking place, and then increased in frequency, Cookie, who owned the antique store, and I assumed that someone was playing pranks on us. What other explanation could there be? But that was until we began sharing our experiences with other shop owners and found that they, too, had stories to share.