It was
1969, in Missouri , in a house I will never
forget.
It was a
simple house, white inside and out, small and rather old. There was a large
living room with a bathroom, kitchen and two bedrooms off the main living area.
We were so thankful for it, a real house. My mother took one bedroom and we
three girls took the other. It seemed fine in the beginning, we were so glad not
to have to live in a car or barn. We had no immediate neighbors, just empty lots
on either side. Nice and private. In the following days we would come to
understand why.
The first
thing was the odd smell. It was unpleasant but not necessarily intolerable,
something like dead, rotting flowers. Wet and moldy smelling. It was always in
the living room outside the bathroom door. With the bathroom being right there
we thought maybe it was a sewer problem. It wasn't.
The
continuous odor was soon followed by what sounded like hundreds of tiny people
marching around in army boots up in the attic. But only above the living room,
in front of the bathroom door.
My mother
checked out the attic standing on a small ladder just outside the bathroom where
the crawl space was but she saw nothing at all, even as the marching continued.
Rats maybe?
The stench
and noise alone would have probably driven most people out, but we couldn't
leave. My mother made very little money and we had spent what we had on getting
the house, so we just put up with it.
Then, one
night, about a week after the sounds of marching had begun, we were awakened by
the toilet flushing, again and again and again. We girls gathered on the old
couch in the living room, crying and afraid, while my mother investigated. She
was scared too, but I think, also excited. We were just
scared.
After some
minutes she called us over and we could clearly see the handle moving, as if an
invisible hand were flushing. It didn't stop. Then, as if to say, "you think
that's something?", the faucet handles on the sink turned on full force and
water began pouring out. My mother said not to be afraid, she was sure it was a
nice ghost! We all slept in her room that night.
The next
morning we begged my mother to stay home from work but she said we couldn't
afford it, so we girls stayed outside all day. When she pulled in that evening
we went inside together. Everything had stopped. The smell, the marching, the
flushing, the sink, all quiet. As if none of it had ever
happened.
We ate
supper that night in the kitchen instead of the living room where we usually
ate. My mother was telling us about her day when suddenly, a few feet away, from
the broom closet, a radio began blasting rock n roll music. We owned one radio
only and it sat quietly on the kitchen counter beside
us.
My mother
jumped up and flung open the closet door only to find silence and a broom. Then
it was at the window blasting away like a live band there under our sill. She
rushed outside after it, shouting for us to stay where we were. The backdoor
slammed shut after her making us scream, but worse, the music was back in the
closet.
My mother
came back into the kitchen and started to say something when she heard it again
too. She moved to be between us and it, looked at us strangely, then turned back
and screamed at the music to leave her house now and not return. the sound of
her voice scared me more than the music had but not as much as what was to
come.
As if in
response to my mothers words, the music just stopped. Nothing but the sound of
our crying remained. my mother gathered us into the living room and onto the old
couch, where we talked quietly about trying to find another house soon. Maybe in
a month or so. But, as we talked, dust began to fall from the crawl space cover
to the attic.
We shut up
at once and my mother got up and began to walk slowly toward it. She hadn't
taken three steps when tiny holes started appearing all over the crawl space
cover, as if someone were up there punching through it with an ice pick over and
over again. We all froze, as much out of amazement as fear. Hundreds of holes
appeared in seconds and then just stopped. We watched as the last bit of dust
floated to the floor as if in slow motion. There is a silence of space and time
that occurs only rarely throughout our lives, an instant when everything in the
universe ceases. This was one of those times.
Then, like
a cold hard slap in the face, everything started again. The odor, the marching,
the flushing, the sink, the music and the hole punching. All at once, all
together, and this time it didn't stop.
We were
screaming and crying hysterically as my mother ushered us out into the damp
night and into the car. We slept in the car that night and in the morning, with
a police officer and the landlord present, we moved
out.
The house
was empty and still when we left. Certainly no sign that anything unusual had
ever happened there. Well, except for the hundreds of tiny holes in the crawl
space cover, which the landlord asked my mother to pay
for.
My mother
laughed at him, she laughed so hard I thought she was having a breakdown. But
then suddenly she stopped, got us all into the car and drove
away.
I have
never forgotten that house. I'm not an easily frightened person but sometimes,
when I'm alone at night and I hear an odd sound, a remembered fear comes over me
and I turn on all the lights.
Think what
you will, I was there.
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