Echoes of a Haunting - Revisited Page 8

  When Phil came home from work, he too was sorry that Martin and Mikki had to leave. I explained that Martin had a flying lesson and wasn’t able to stay. Since Martin’s discharge from the Air Force, he had been determined to learn to fly. He hadn’t been allowed to receive pilot training in the service due to an ear injury. I remember one time Martin flew his rented plane down to the Olean airport to deliver Laura’s birthday present. To say she was thrilled would be a gross understatement. Laura, as middle child, always seemed to be lost in the shuffle. Her older brother and sister were high achievers. Her younger sister was more assertive as youngest often are. Laura vied for attention in sometimes dangerous ways although I didn’t realize it at the time. She was diagnosed as a dyslexic but that was only half of her problem, something we didn’t learn until much later.

  This morning I felt very restless and asked Phil if it was all right if I visited my girlfriend Shirley S, who recently moved to a house near Java Lake. This is not the same Shirley who used to visit our cabin with me but a former fellow-worker from the Iroquois Gas Company. The kids were anxious for an outing too so we set out on the 30 mile drive. Shirley and her husband, Ray, had three children–two girls and a boy. We had been very close at one time and I really regret losing track of them just as I lost so much at this time.

  Shirley and Ray’s house had, at one time, been a convent for nuns who ran a summer camp on the site, so, in addition to the house, they had playground equipment and two good sized cabins. The house itself is really fascinating. It’s one of those places where you never know what will be around the next corner.

  Since nuns had once lived there, it was well taken care of. I was intrigued by the nooks and crannies and I know I would really explore if I owned the place. It even had a butler’s pantry, something I had never seen before. However, this was not the main reason I visited Shirley. I happened to remember that she had told me about playing host to a poltergeist in their former home. I thought I’d find out how they had handled the problem.

  I told her what had been happening and that the tentative diagnosis had been poltergeists. Their poltergeist had become a family friend and they were able to talk to it so it didn’t exactly parallel our case. Through all this talk I continue to feel as though I have been transported to the twilight zone. Talking to a poltergeist?

  Shirley told me what she thought was causing our trouble. It seems that everyone has a theory. I should be used to it. She figures I am subconsciously causing the disturbances because I want to “get even” with Phil through the kids. I told her I found it hard to believe that I would harm the kids for any reason let alone vengeance. Vengeance, furthermore, is a rather harsh word. It is true that Phil and I have frequent differences of opinion. We are both extremely volatile people and, while I’m sure our arguments seem rather violent to the onlookers, in reality they are much less severe than they appear. I had to admit though, that our marriage was still rapidly deteriorating.

  However, I did consider her theory and it did make some sense so I went away with a still larger sense of guilt. If I were, indeed, causing the trouble, whether consciously or subconsciously, I imagine Phil would be the motive. My head was spinning by the time I got home and I guess I was really depressed. Lately, I have been finding it harder and harder to keep my cool.

  Sometimes I felt as though little pieces of me were dropping off and I was surprised that no one else seemed to notice. Life went on around me in some kind of fog and nothing seemed real to me anymore. I realized in some dim corner of my mind that it was summer and that I should be enjoying it. I knew it would probably be the last time I would have all the kids home and yet I couldn’t really enjoy anything. Each day had become something to be endured; each night something to dread and each thought something to be mistrusted. Would anything ever get back to any semblance of normalcy? And, perhaps more important, would we survive until then?

  Friday–July 20, 1973

  I passed the day in a fog, as usual, and am really getting worried about my apathy. I am becoming incapable of completing a task. I have always loved to talk but I have become a compulsive talker–talking incessantly about the incidents we had experienced. I guess I hope by talking about them they will seem less extraordinary. Since it has become comparatively quiet, I am now nervously waiting for the other shoe to drop. The oppressive atmosphere in the house has not changed and, indeed, in Mary’s room is getting stronger every day. The constant rattling of the latch on the cellar door located in the bathroom, finally got on my nerves today and I shouted, “Shut up!” You know what? It did! One good thing about having ghosts rattle a door right next to the toilet, no one in our house was ever constipated.

  When I weighed myself today, I was alarmed to see how much weight I was losing. I was down to 98 pounds. Since I’m five feet four and a half inches tall, that’s too light.

  Mum called today and, as usual, my gloom lifted a bit. She and dad were coming down Saturday. They had it all planned. Dad was going to stay at the house with the kids while I went back to Buffalo with mum for a few days. They thought I should get away from the house. Suddenly, I felt like I was seeing light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

  Sometimes I think the house is absorbing me. I can’t seem to explain it to anyone but Beth. She is the only one who really seems to understand. Is she feeling the same way? I get the feeling she has the same thoughts about the house that I do. It frightens me to be always on the verge of tears, always exhausted, always drained and I am looking forward to the trip to Buffalo with profound relief. I know, deep down, that if I don’t get away for a while, I will break down completely. Too much! Too much!

  Saturday–July 21, 1973

  It was good to see mum and dad again. After having lived so close to them for so many years, I had become used to talking any problem over with them. Since this nightmare started, it has been difficult to be unable to walk upstairs and find a sympathetic ear. However, I am beginning to get the feeling that Phil doesn’t like the idea of my going to Buffalo. This morning, he acted annoyed and that’s always a bad sign. I was surprised because I thought my need to get away was apparent. After all, he is able to find relief in going to work every day so he escapes the worst of the tension. I can’t imagine why he would resent my getting at least this small chance for a break.

  Sunday–July 22, 1973

  Today is my sister, Cathie’s birthday. I have forgotten birthdays, anniversaries and whatever else in this nightmare that had come upon us. I keep hoping it has ended but something tells me it is just beginning. I am afraid they are gaining in strength while we poor mortals are losing ours. Mum and I rode to Buffalo with Gordon so dad would have his car in case he needed it. Buffalo may be polluted but it looked mighty good to me today even through the smog. I wonder what kind of pollution they would say was present in our house. A more important question–if some of the haunting were my fault, would it follow me? I soon found out–it did no such thing.

  Monday–July 23, 1973

  I decided to call Charmaine and see if there were any way to meet the psychic who had told us about our envelopes. Maybe he would be able to help us–at least with advice. At least he could clarify what he meant by my being the source of the power being used. I needed something to ease the guilt I felt. She said she would arrange a meeting and, true to her word, said Maureen would pick me up on Tuesday and I could meet Wally. I hoped I wasn’t grasping at straws again.

  I called my girlfriend, Shirl, and she promised to come over and visit. We have been friends since our high school days at Mount Mercy Academy. We both had to work our way through to pay the tuition so it gave us a close bond. I looked forward to seeing her. I also wonder what she will think of all this. She has been an overnight guest many times since we moved to the country and I can’t help wondering if she will continue her visits. For that reason alone, I am almost afraid to tell her what has been happening.

  It was late when Shirl finally got to the house. Just as she was leav
ing her house, she discovered she had a flat tire. We had a nice visit over a cup of tea. I’m not sure she believed all my story, still I think she did at least give me the benefit of the doubt.

  Tuesday–July 24, 1973

  Today is Martin’s birthday. I don’t remember whether I wished him a Happy Birthday when he visited us or not. Oh, well, we’re having a combined party on the 28th so I’ll tell him then. The day passed uneventfully. I don’t have to worry about being haunted here, of catching a glimpse of someone or something out of the corner of my eye. I have lost the feeling of constant threat and the need to be constantly on guard. The sense of relief is profoundly welcome.

  Maureen picked me up at 7:30 in the evening and I was amazed to find she had to drive me all the way to Lancaster to Wally’s home. I hardly knew Maureen and was pleasantly surprised by her concern. On the way to the house she filled me in on Wally. He headed a study group to which she belonged. They had been connected with Rosary Hill College’s Human Dimensions Institute but had since gone on their own to study psychic healing. Before I knew it, we pulled up in front of Wally’s house.

  Wally and his wife impressed me as such serene, happy people that I took to them immediately. Their house was lovely and the atmosphere very comfortable. I have become very sensitive to atmosphere. Again, I told the whole story while Wally sat in the darkening room and listened. I am beginning to feel like a tape recording. Wally’s first question when I finished surprised me.

  He asked me if I had suffered a sickness or injury which may have damaged my brain. I told him I had undergone an angiogram in 1968 and some of the dye had stuck in an artery in my neck. He correctly stated it was on the right side and told me I had slight brain damage on my right side. This was news to me but it made sense. If this is a sample of Wally’s psychic diagnosis, it made a deep impression on me.

  As for the ghosts, he thought we might have several types of haunting: poltergeists and, perhaps, spirits from more than one source. He tested me with his pendulum and told me I had psychic power and was probably providing some of the energy being expended in the house. This would account for my constant fatigue and accompanying weight loss. He also said I had nothing to do with the way this power was used. This helped my guilt feelings considerably. I left with the feeling I had new friends.

  Wally promised that he would come down to the house as soon as possible and see what he could find out using his own power. Why does this still sound crazy to me? No matter how hard I try, I feel as though the whole thing is a put-on, a joke. But Wally was real and very sincere. I really didn’t know how to thank him. I felt like such a babe in the woods in this field and I was very grateful for his patient explanations.

  I was quite late getting home and, of course, had to tell mum a little of what had happened. Phil had called while I was gone and was greatly annoyed that I wasn’t home. I don’t want him to know about my visit with Wally until I can tell him the entire story in person. This whole affair has him pretty upset and I know he doesn’t really believe in psychic powers, supernatural happenings and the whole Pandora’s box which had suddenly opened up. I wonder if I do. All I can hope for is that he will at least try to understand. I would have to phrase my explanation carefully. I have the vague, uncomfortable feeling that I shouldn’t have to.

  Wednesday–July 25, 1973

  I have been having a few qualms about leaving dad and the kids alone in that house although it seems like a fairly quiet time. I made a quick phone call this morning and was assured that things were okay. The only incidents they reported were the usual sounds of footsteps and knocking in Mary’s room. That doesn’t seem so awfully bad in view of the things that have been happening. I could now relax until the time came for Phil to pick me up.

  Funny, it’s been so quiet in the house. It sounds like the happenings run in cycles. There must be a pattern. I made plans to look for such a pattern when I returned home. Could it have something to do with the phases of the moon? Do they expend their energy and have to renew it before resuming the harassment? Or was it because I was gone that things were quiet? That was a possibility I didn’t like to consider. I resolved to do more reading on this subject.

  Shirl visited me again this evening and, while she isn’t too willing to accept what happened, still I don’t think we’ll be seeing as much of her. She had a reaction which I’ve come to accept as normal. People don’t believe in ghosts but they don’t want to meet one!

  Thursday–July 26, 1973

  Phil came early this morning to pick me up. I guess I should be flattered that he wants me home so badly. If I hadn’t had the break, though, I don’t know what would have happened. All the way home we talked about my visit with Wally. Or rather, I talked. He didn’t really approve of my seeing him. It’s hard to make such things reasonable to someone who doesn’t yet accept the fact that there is more in this world than is visible to us. Come to think of it, it is still very difficult for me to accept and I have been right in the middle of it.

  At home things have held up pretty well. Thank God, the kids are so resilient. My dad is a quiet, thoughtful person. He manages to accept things as they are with very little resistance. His gentle presence has exerted a calming influence on the kids. The atmosphere doesn’t seem as bad as it had before I left. Again, we wondered if the persecution were over. I guess it’s true what they say about hope springing eternal.

  Friday–July 27, 1973

  Dick and Grace came down today with their two daughters. They are spending the weekend at their cabin so Susan and Darlene decided to spend the night with us. Since things had been quiet, I was not too worried. The weather is so hot! Breathing is difficult and almost uncomfortable. There didn’t seem to be a breath of air moving. As always, the downstairs section of the house was comparatively cool while the upstairs felt like an oven.

  The family is looking forward to the combined birthday party which is scheduled to take place tomorrow. Beth and I were going to bake the cake but, since it flopped, the less said about that the better. Keeping our fingers crossed, we called the bakery in Olean. Luckily, they were willing to make us a cake at the last minute with eleven names on it! The girl who took the order was laughing when she hung up. I had to laugh with her. I don’t suppose they get many orders for birthday cakes with eleven names! We have so many birthdays in the summer we decided long ago to celebrate them all at once. The practice has grown so that not only our family birthdays are included but close friends as well. Everyone seems to get a kick out of having their names on our already overcrowded cake.

  Phil and I had a hard time getting to sleep, it was so hot. I finally dropped off into a rather restless sleep and woke up suddenly exactly 10 minutes later by the clock. I was freezing. I touched Phil, who by this time was sound asleep. His skin felt as cold as ice. I had to check his breathing to make sure he was just sleeping. He always felt so warm but now he was so cold.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I knew my optimism of yesterday was premature. Just then, Mary came running upstairs and said that Gypsy was on the porch tearing the screen door apart. I had just heard Gyp walking around in the upper crawl space above our bedroom so I knew it couldn’t be her. I ran downstairs and all four girls were standing by the front door in the kitchen, scared to death.

  Quickly opening the door, I found that the screen had indeed been ripped but there was no animal in sight. The porch door was tightly closed so nothing could have gotten out that way. In addition, the porch was fully enclosed so nothing could have gotten in. I didn’t make too much of it so I wouldn’t frighten the girls further. I had a hard time getting back to sleep. I didn’t wake Phil.

  Saturday–July 28, 1973

  THE PARTY! Everyone had a ball. I stopped counting after the first hour as more and more friends arrived. I remember talking to people. Every time another carload of kids arrived, I remember laughingly telling Phil to open another package of hot dogs. I remember laughing and watching everyone having a good t
ime. Yet, with the exception of the knowledge that I had a good time, everything is kind of blurred. It’s like a movie out of focus. I know I talked to people but have no recollection of what I said. I remember eating but don’t know what I ate. A fog seems to be surrounding me at all times.

  Shirl, mum and dad spent the night with us and my sister, Cathie, her husband, Mike and their kids, Gary and Karen, stayed with Gordon at his cabin down the road. After visiting with us many times, Gordon had caught the “rural retreat fever” and bought a cabin from Donna and Ken just as we had years ago. It was situated on a hill and had a magnificent view. I wish he hadn’t lost it years later. Martin and Mikki decided they would go home with Michele.

  When the house and grounds were echoing with laughter and good will it was hard to believe anything bad could ever happen here but I have a horrible feeling that soon I would have a reminder that bad things could happen. In fact, I feel that something is going to happen very soon. Am I psychic? According to research books I have read since we left Hinsdale, the presence of so many people, especially when they were high-energy, added to the power saturating the area. Shot in the foot again!

  Mum offered to let Shirl sleep in Beth’s bed but she chose Mike’s instead. Funny, she says she doesn’t believe in ghosts but I heard her say, “If I had my choice, I’d rather have boxes fall on me than something furry leap at me!”