Echoes of a Haunting - Revisited Read online

  Phil tried to explain away the lamp incident but I couldn’t buy it. Beth and I painstakingly picked up all the fine shards of glass from the bulb so no one would get cut. The floor was completely clear when we left the room. I don’t believe I went upstairs again that day. Since Phil and I had disagreed on what was happening, I’m afraid I was rather annoyed with him when he left for work tonight.

  After Phil left, Beth’s boyfriend, Jeff, was reluctant to leave us alone in the house. He, too, had sensed the change in the atmosphere. No matter what we were doing, he’d suddenly break out in goose bumps about dusk. He claimed it was his Indian blood. I was glad he stayed until late because we could all sense an alien, unfriendly aura in the house. It was the same sensation we had when the “umbrella” used to descend on the house, only now it was inside!

  Mike finally came in, tired after his long drive, his eyes sore from trying to see on a rain-soaked highway. Early summer in New York State often produced heavy and unexpected rainfalls, usually accompanied by spectacular lightning. Since Mike was home, Jeff finally felt it was safe to leave.

  After Jeff went home, we tried to tell Mike why Jeff had been so concerned. My unruffled son was completely disinterested in the incidents of the day. He was too tired to listen and just wanted the lights out so he could get some sleep. We were so relieved he was home, we were only too happy to oblige. I went upstairs and started to get into bed when I spotted something lying on Mary’s floor. Without thinking, I moved to pick it up. It took a few seconds before it dawned on me that it was the Ace of Spades I held in my hand. Since the only deck of cards we possessed was kept downstairs in a drawer, I had no idea where it could have come from.

  Creeping quietly downstairs, feeling cold and frightened, I knocked on Beth’s door. Careful not to wake Mike, I asked her if she had noticed anything on the floor when we finished cleaning up the glass. She confirmed what I already knew and was appalled when she saw the card.

  Recalling this incident later, it is incredible to me to think that all I did was put the card under my alarm clock with the intention of showing it to Phil in the morning. Then I went to bed. Why didn’t it occur to me that I was sleeping alone upstairs not ten feet from where we had been having some very strange disturbances?

  The alarm clock said it was about 4 o’clock in the morning and, apparently, I woke at the first sound. A quivering voice was calling, “Ma!” and I knew it was Mike. When I answered, he asked me to come downstairs. Being half asleep, I was reluctant to leave my comfortable bed but finally got up. Donning my bathrobe, I went downstairs, reached his door and stopped short.

  His chess set was scattered from one end of the room to the other and his Battleship game was lying on top of him. I said, “My God, what happened?” All he could say was, “I’m not getting out of this bed until you come into the room.” I stepped in immediately. He decided to sleep on the couch for the rest of the night and kept reminding Beth not to turn out her night light (as if he had to tell her!).

  Thursday–July 5, 1973

  Would you believe it? This morning I went to look for the card under my clock and it wasn’t there. I finally found it on Mary’s dresser. Phil’s solution–I must have walked in my sleep. I have never walked in my sleep in my life. Come to think of it, I wasn’t getting a whole lot of sleep lately. When would I have time to walk? I have given up trying to convince Phil. I don’t even blame him. In the morning I get up and see the sun shining, hear the birds singing and wonder how I could have possibly imagined such nonsense. Yet, I know it did happen and the impossibility of it is overwhelming. I feel reality slipping sideways under me.

  Beth discovered a burn on her leg this morning. It was definitely not there last night. When she spoke of it, Mike looked shocked and then said he had a similar burn appear on his leg about a week before but hadn’t mentioned it because it didn’t hurt. Beth’s did hurt and she developed a permanent scar from it.

  By this time, Mike had mentally replayed the events of the night before. His logical mind didn’t like what he was telling it. There is a wide, room-long shelf over his bed. On it, he keeps books, games, magazines and what have you. Like any mother, I had warned him time and again about the precarious pile of slick magazines perched on top of his games but the magazines didn’t fall. His chess set, which was on the very bottom of a large pile, fell on his chest and woke him up. Sleepily pushing it off to the floor, he turned over to go back to sleep. About five minutes later, his Battleship game, which had been on top of the chess game, fell. That was when he called me.

  The magazines were still piled on the shelf, still precarious but unmoved while the games beneath them lay all over the floor. Since Mike prides himself on being logical and this was completely illogical, he was absolutely convinced that something strange was happening in the house. He kept shouting, “But they fell on me!” All Beth and I said was, “Join the club.” Neither of us felt the least bit callous.

  From being a scoffing disbeliever, Mike has become a bundle of nerves. Suddenly, he was frantic to find some believable explanation. Right away, he insisted we visit the town historian so the three of us stopped in on the way to the post office. Strangely enough, a man who had been born in a house which used to stand next to ours was visiting in her kitchen. In fact, this man was a descendent of the original owners of the property, or so he claimed. When the lady of the house asked if anything strange ever happened up at the house when he lived there he just shook his head and refused to comment.

  There was another man there at the time who started what was to become the common hobby of making fun of us. I can’t understand people who jeer at something because it’s different or unusual. We were groping in the dark, asking for help, and he laughed. I hope he enjoyed himself at our expense and I hope nothing similar ever happens to him. He couldn’t take it!

  Of course, Phil thinks the boxes falling was just an accident but Mike has become a staunch and confirmed ally. It’s not just two giddy women now. Mike does not panic easily and he tried to tell Phil how frightened he had been. Actually, it isn’t only the incident itself which is unnerving enough, but the atmosphere in the area of the incident. It’s very hard to describe but is a clinging, cold feeling. There’s an electric-like charge in the air. However, after the encounter with Mike’s doubts, I have come to the conclusion that you must go through an experience like this yourself before you can fully appreciate or believe it so I didn’t insist. Besides, it wouldn’t have helped if I had.

  We talked it over, Mike, Beth and I, and have decided we will not discuss the strange events of the past few days but will try to keep the atmosphere light and see if that might help. At this point, affected by Phil’s doubts, we had somehow come to the mistaken conclusion that we were, at least partially, to blame for the weirdness. After Phil left for work, the three of us sat watching the Walton’s on TV and having Pepsi and potato chips. We had no discussion of anything more profound that whether to watch Kung Fu after the Walton’s or try something else for a change. It was a night like so many others with nothing to mark it as unique.

  On the front wall in the living room, directly over the vinyl reclining chair on which I was sitting, were pictures of the four kids. I had hung their First Communion pictures and, alongside them, their latest school pictures and the effect was very interesting. Suddenly Mike asked what was stuck in Mary’s picture. When I looked up, I felt my scalp crawl. There was a clear plastic letter opener balanced in Mary’s picture, making it look as though she had been stabbed. The picture, thank God, was not punctured. A sense of complete unreality filled me as I told them what it was.

  Beth immediately burst into tears and said, “Why is it picking on Mary? She isn’t even here!” Our brave attempts at lightness crumbled and proved false in that instant. Mike was the first one to move. Angrily snatching the opener, he broke it in several pieces and threw it into the kitchen. Each lost in his own thoughts; we sat quietly for some minutes.

  Abruptly, Mike mad
e us realize that our thoughts were almost identical. I was frantically asking myself if I had “flipped” and might have done this crazy thing myself and not remembered it. One look at Beth’s stricken face told me she was thinking the same thing. Mike cleared the air with his next words. “One thing–we know it’s not one of us–we have more imagination!” With considerable relief, I knew he was right.

  Rather shakily, he suggested that we all sleep in the same room, at least for the night. He felt that whatever “it” was seemed to be trying to separate us. One of the indications of how frightened and off-balance we had become was when Mike said, “I am a seventeen year old boy about to ask my sixteen year old sister to walk to the bathroom with me.” Beth agreed as long as he’d wait outside the door while she was in the bathroom. Only those with teenagers can fully appreciate the panic contained in those remarks.

  Together, we went upstairs to bed. Beth and I slept in my bed and Mike set up a cot alongside. I wish there were some way I could convey the horror I felt as I lay in my own bed with my own kids, surrounded by my own pets and listened to the sound of men’s heavy footsteps downstairs walking from one end of the house to the other all night long. Whoever it was, or whatever, was wearing hard-soled boots. At least that’s what it sounded like. I found myself wishing he’d take them off. Does it sound as though I was overtired? I felt weighed down by the house and its persecution. Would this fatigue impair my ability to act? I hope not. There are too many indications that we must keep our wits about us and keep strong. I must recover!

  I should mention that none of the animals seemed to hear the footsteps but Julie and Fluffy are showing an increasing reluctance to come in the house at night. At least some of the pets would ordinarily have slept downstairs but this night they all crowded into my room, close together as if for moral support.

  Friday–July 6, 1973

  I guess Mike must have mentioned our problems to some of his friends because Craig asked to spend the night and “chase our noises”. I don’t know if he’s making fun of us, wants to psych us into believing he’s chased our “spooks” or truly wants to help. Craig, although I don’t know him too well, always acts like a quiet, pleasant boy and I like him. At any rate, we spent a quiet evening watching television and talking of nothing in particular. None of us mentioned the troubles we have been having.

  Because it was Friday night, Phil didn’t have to go to work. We went up to bed after the evening news was over at 11:30. However, no sooner had we settled down than Mike came to our door and said quietly, “Dad, that boy is outside again.” There was no need to tell us what “boy” he meant. Phil had his clothes on and was outside before I could get my bathrobe on.

  Craig had been on his way to bed when, passing our back kitchen door, he chanced to look out. Just then he saw the “boy” walking past our spring house. He didn’t know anything about that particular spirit and shouted to Mike that “some kid” had just gone through our yard. This is highly suspicious when it’s near midnight and the house is about four miles from town.

  Craig must have been rather confused when Mike and Phil ran all through the yard and surrounding fields trying to find a boy he had been told “walked around here”. He kept saying to anyone who would listen, “If he walks around here where does he live? Why is he walking around at midnight?” I finally told him that we thought it might be a ghost. At this, he immediately began apologizing to everyone saying, “I didn’t mean to see him, honest. I’m sorry–I didn’t mean to see him.” It took quite a while to calm him down. Well, someone else has seen our young phantom. I sure wish I would.

  Saturday–July 7, 1973

  Since it seems as though we are unable to cope with the events of the past couple of weeks ourselves, I called my mother on Thursday to see if she could reach my cousin, Father Bob. I had been unable to get anyone to bless the house before this and thought perhaps if he blessed it the house would settle down. Am I being naïve again? She couldn’t reach Father Bob but assured me that he would be at the family reunion on Sunday.

  I hadn’t been sure up to this point whether I was going to attend. The annual reunion is being held on Grand Island, north of Buffalo, and is quite a long drive for us. However, clinging to the hope that Father Bob could help us, I decided to make the drive. Mike planned to ask Brenda to go with him and Beth asked Pat. Pat and her family had moved to a town near Buffalo when her mother remarried and she was in town visiting her grandmother. We made all the preparations for our picnic/reunion and determined to enjoy ourselves.

  Sunday–July 8, 1973

  What a beautiful day for a reunion! The air was clear, the sun bright and the weather hot. The kids decided to take their swim suits. The park is situated right on the Niagara River, not too far from my brother, Martin’s, house and it has a good beach. Mary, who with Laura, has been visiting my mother and father, decided to come home with us after the picnic. Laura wanted to stay in Buffalo a few more days.

  When I called mum about Father Bob, I told her all about our problem and asked her to see if the kids had seen my plastic letter opener. Neither of them knew what I was talking about. I thought I was the only one who knew where it had been before it appeared in Mary’s picture but I was wrong. Even I hadn’t known!

  When I quit my job at BOCES, I put the opener, a freebie from Fuller Brush, in a bag and stored it in the front closet. I checked after the incident with the picture and couldn’t find the bag. It was a few days later that I found it in the upstairs bedroom closet. I must have moved it with some other things and not realized it. So, how had the opener gotten in Mary’s picture? With all the strange things that were going on, I really didn’t blame the girls for not wanting to come home.

  Midday at the park was really hot and we were plagued by little black flies but I think everyone had a good time. I was really upset, however, when I discovered the large diamond in my engagement ring was missing. For an hour, we searched but trying to find something like that in a park is impossible. I still have dreams of some child finding it and playing with the piece of “glass”.

  I hated the thought of telling Phil about my ring. He’s had quite enough shocks lately without adding this one. Because he had to work in the evening, he decided not to come today but planned on spending the day resting.

  Father Bob was late and arrived just as we were about to give up and pack our things to go home. He listened sympathetically to my story and promised to come to the house as soon as possible. He confessed he might not be able to help, though, and thought that I might have to get in touch with someone who “does that sort of thing”. I guess medicine isn’t the only field with areas of specialization.

  Since we had a long drive home, we left rather early. I asked mum and dad to come down for a visit. Mum still had her cast on, so she said they would come down on Tuesday. That would give her a day to rest up. Mary came home with us, although with some reluctance, but Laura decided to stay until mum and dad came down.

  All of us were tired after our long day so I suggested that Pat and Brenda spend the night. The three older girls slept in the living room, Mike in his bedroom and I in my room upstairs. The worst part of a picnic to me is putting everything away when you get home. I remember so clearly putting the charcoal lighter out on the back porch!

  Monday–July 9, 1973

  Well, my first surprise this morning was finding the charcoal lighter in the bathroom next to the wastebasket and uncomfortably close to the water heater. For a moment I was completely disoriented. I could see myself taking that lighter out to the back porch. Yet, here it was in the bathroom. Impossible! When the girls got up, Beth found a tear-shaped burn about an inch and a half long in my good criss-cross curtains. I had just washed them the week before so I knew the burn hadn’t been there.

  To top it all off, one of the leaves of my philodendron plant was also burned. Alarmingly enough, the burns were the same shape as the one Beth had on her leg. They looked like they had been caused by drops of acid.
First there were the burns and then the lighter fluid. I couldn’t figure it out. Certainly, it seemed as though something were threatening us with fire. How does it know that fire is one of my greatest fears?

  When Phil came home from work, I reluctantly told him about the diamond and, thank God, he wasn’t as upset as I thought he’d be. It’s our 18th wedding anniversary today, too. What an anniversary present!

  Brenda went home this morning but Pat decided to stay over another night. Soon, she’ll have to go back home to Buffalo and she and Beth are trying to catch up on all the gossip.

  Mike noticed a very disturbing atmosphere in his room when he was going to bed tonight and asked if he could sleep on the couch. I wasn’t about to order him to sleep where he felt uncomfortable. Pat slept on a cot at the side of Beth’s bed. All night long, she kept waking Mike, frightened and anxious to talk. As they talked, they both heard footsteps coming from the kitchen about three uncomfortable yards away. When Mike assured her it must be one of the animals, she insisted he check. Neither of them slept much after finding out there were no animals in the kitchen.

  Tuesday–July 10, 1973

  All our company came today. Mum and dad arrived with Laura and then, around supper time, Father Bob, his mother and his sister, June, showed up. Yesterday I tried to find out the name and address of a couple who had lectured at St. Bonaventure University in October on psychic phenomena but the priest who could give me the information was always out of the office. I tried again today and got their name but was advised that I should instead call Father Alphonsus at the University. He studies psychic phenomena and helps out in cases like ours. Here, I thought we were unique. I immediately put in a call to Father but, he, too, was out. It’s certainly my day for striking out. Hopes rising, I left a message with the switchboard operator and prayed he’d call back soon.