This is not a normal post of mine. I am stretching my bloggy legs and trying something a bit different. After all, variety is the spice of life-right?
So, for fun and in the spirit of Halloween… I thought I’d recount a ghostly encounter. The root of the story is real… I might embellish a bit for fun. I hope y’all like it. If not, I guess I will not venture in this direction again. 🙂
“Old Houses”-k.leighann
Kathy had just moved a town away. A typical small southern town, forgotten by time, played host to plenty of old, run down mill houses. The house itself felt of a time gone by, as if it was clinging to memories of it’s glory days.
Kathy did not choose the house for any special reason. She needed an affordable roof over her head. She and her four kids made the house a home quickly. As I helped her oldest daughter Melanie, 16, get settled we talked about the eerie closet in her room.
It was oddly chilly, as if a draft immenated from within it. After the first few nights, Melanie confided to me that she pulled all her things from the closet and placed a table in front of the door. I questioned her. She pulled me to the front porch. Melanie appeared frightened, she looked around as if someone was listening.
“There is something, someone, in there.” She whispered. I fully knew that it was possible for a 16 year old to be dramatic, but her eyes were sincere. “Every night at 2 am, a creaking and tapping begin.”
“”Creaking and tapping?” I questioned “Maybe tree branches hitting the roof?”
She shook her head violently, no. Her eyes widen, “Creaking like a rope, tapping like something hitting the door- rhythmically, like it’s swinging”
I knew then what she was suggesting. Chills ran over my body. It was obvious this house had a dark past. As we began talking about ways to bring in positive energy, I suggested a white candle. I knew her mother had one in a glass that had the Virgin Mary depicted on it.
As soon as the suggestion slipped my lips, the left side of my face stung. The side of my face closest to her window. It was a cold November night. The rest of my face was ice cold. Why was this side burning like fire? I held my face, eyes questioning hers.
“What? What happened?”she asked. I told her, her eyes darted to the window.
“Mhhmmm…uh-uh…nooo…” she muttered. “No. It doesn’t like this, us…you!”
I was mad. Red sided face and all… I marched to the cabinet to retrieve the candle. Don’t mess with my family. Melanie begged me not to, as I lit the candle and placed in her room. As I set it on the table, she stood in the doorway. I turned and looked at her. She immediately pointed behind me. The candle was out.
I lit it again, I stood there this time to watch the flame. It’s golden glow lighting the room. I waited to see it burn strongly. No flickering, no leaning as if it was in a draft. The flame was strong and steady as I backed away. I backed almost to the doorway then turned. As my eyes hit Melanie, her face was blank. I followed the line of her unblinking stare back to the candle. No flame.
I grumble as I light the candle a third time. I give a huff as I put the candle back down. I get to the doorway and grab Melanies arm. “I need some coffee, c’mon.”
We are halfway down the hall when we hear the glass shatter. We run to the doorway. Chills ran down my spine. It looked like someone had took a mallet to the candle. Glass and wax spatter the table. We decided that was enough. I tell Melanie to grab her pillow and blanket as I cleaned the mess.
“I will see if you can sleep in the living room tonight” I told her, raking the last bits of glass into the garbage pail. As Melanie picks up her pillow and turns to me, we both stop. The guitar across her room pulls our focus from our conversation.
With no motion in the room, the sound of each string being strummed fills our ears. It sounded like someone gently hit each string with a pick in one slow strum. Enough was enough, Melanie ran and I was close behind her.
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