As soon as mum and dad arrived with Laura, as always, I felt relieved. A remnant of childhood, perhaps, but I think even grownups, in times of great peril, call their mothers. We talked over all that had happened and came to no conclusions. They were horrified and rather outraged that anything would bother us like this. They, too, couldn’t wait until Father Alphonsus returned my call, I don’t know what we expected–magic, I guess.
After Father Bob arrived, we ate a picnic supper. Our yard was perfect for that. The view of the surrounding countryside and rolling landscape made everyone enjoy themselves. After eating, Father blessed the house and then we sat in the living room and went over the events again. My aunt thinks it has something to do with the devil but I don’t agree. Of course, the fact that I don’t believe in the devil as a viable entity might have something to do with my doubt. Besides, if there is a “devil” I think he probably has more important things to do than harass a family in a small town.
As I looked out the window and watched dusk creeping over the mountains, I had a sudden, overwhelming feeling of foreboding. I knew the atmosphere in the house was unchanged and that the blessing had not helped. As my heart sank down to my shoes, I realized that Father Bob was watching me and sensed what I felt. Like a child, I guess I expected all our troubles to disappear miraculously after the blessing. Of course, that’s akin to superstition but that’s what I hoped. As they left, Father Bob said, “I don’t know if I did you any good but I didn’t do you any harm.” I wish I could have reassured him that his blessing had worked but I couldn’t. At the time we didn’t know that what we were dealing with required much more than a blessing to get rid of it.
I will sleep the sleep of exhaustion tonight and I think if the devil himself shows up I won’t know it–or care.
Wednesday–July 11, 1973
I’m always glad when mum and dad visit. We lived in their lower flat before we left Buffalo. The kids and I had been accustomed to being able to pop upstairs for a quick word or a snack. Today, we had a pleasant time just visiting and I began to hope, as usual, that whatever had been here had left. Perhaps Father’s blessing had helped. In the evening, I suddenly became utterly exhausted and went in to lie on Beth’s bed. Mum, dad and the girls were watching TV in the living room right outside the bedroom door. I had Dolly, the skunk, with me and we both lay down and drifted into a light sleep, Dolly lying on my stomach.
I had only slept a few minutes when I woke to an Arctic cold in the room. Beth had been complaining that her room, ordinarily the warmest room in the house, was icy cold lately. As I lay there I felt my fingers getting stiff and even the warmth of Dolly’s body didn’t help. It must have been because I just woke up that it took me so long to realize that what I was feeling was not a normal cold. This cold seemed to drain the warmth from the inside of my body. It was as though icy fingers were raking the lining of my stomach.
All I could think of was that my mother would be sleeping in this room very shortly and she had a broken leg. Finally, I got up and said, “Mum, you’d better not sleep in here tonight–it’s too cold.” She knew right away what I meant but said it would be all right. I joined them in the living room and after a few minutes saw mum go into Beth’s room. She heartily agreed–it was cold! Seeing the look on her face, I knew that she realized what was causing the sudden drop in temperature. For some reason, her knowing helped me to attain at least a semblance of calm.
At that moment, Beth, who had just washed her hair, went to the bathroom to comb it out when the faucet in the bathroom sink suddenly went on full force. She let out a yelp and returned, laughing nervously, saying that it could at least have waited until she had wanted to wash her hands.
Just then Mike came home with his friend, Randy C, who was going to spend the night. This was nothing new. Since we moved in, we had a constant parade of kids spending the night. I have gotten used to it and probably wouldn’t know what to do if they quit coming. Our house is so isolated that it’s difficult to carry on a social life without this hospitality.
The minute I saw Randy, I felt, with wonder, that the atmosphere in the house was lifting. I told mum I thought the bedroom would be all right now and, when she checked, sure enough, the room was slowly warming. From this day on, Randy became known as my “Spook Chaser”.
Thursday–July 12, 1973
Today I got a call from Father Alphonsus. He said if he could get a car he’d stop over. It was afternoon when he finally arrived. The back roads in our area had confused him and he had passed the turnoff to our house. Once that mistake is made, there is nothing to do but to continue on to the “Flats” and turn around. The main road is narrow and, just past our street, has a mountain towering on one side and a steep drop-off on the other. At least he made it. To say we were anxiously awaiting his arrival would be a gross understatement. When we explained what had happened, he didn’t act surprised nor did he doubt a word of what we said. He just sat puffing on his pipe, his eyes half closed in thought, absorbing everything we said.
His quiet acceptance of our incredible tale made us feel much better. Up to this point we all felt cut off from the world and I was vaguely afraid we were some kind of freaks. He asked permission to come up in the evening and, of course, I readily gave it. The first, tentative diagnosis he gave us was that we might have poltergeists. I had heard of such things but never expected to play host to them. Although some of the incidents didn’t seem to fit in, still it was an interesting theory. Learning later that “poltergeist” activity is usually caused by energy generated by adolescents, I can see why Father latched onto the idea. He was in for a big surprise.
Father Al returned in the evening and I knew he was dying to see the “boy”. My brother, Gordon, was visiting and so was Craig. They went with Mike, Laura and Father for a walk around the area. Of course, they found nothing. Father talked with me for quite a while and I learned a little bit about this incredible thing they call psychic phenomena. I wish mum and dad hadn’t had to leave this afternoon. I know they would have enjoyed his explanation.
When he left us, we felt much better and I had some hope for the future. At least we had a friend, someone who believed us. When something incredible happens, it’s comforting when someone with authority can reduce it to even semi-scientific facts.
I came to know over the next confusing months that Father Al’s own calmness and his ability to convey that serenity to others was, perhaps, his greatest gift. It took me a while to realize that, while he verbally reassured us that there would be no more troubles after he’d gone, it was more a placebo than a cure. Sometimes it worked. Mostly, it didn’t.
Friday–July 13, 1973
Well, it’s Friday the 13th! It should be interesting living in this house on Friday the 13th. Last week I had told another camping neighbor about the happenings because I knew she belonged to a club interested in the supernatural. Charmaine was a former nun and I hoped she might know of some solution to our problem. Later that evening she had called long distance from her home in Buffalo.
Surprising me, she asked that each of us write something on pieces of paper and seal them in separate envelopes. We were to put some code on the outside of the envelope so only we would know to whom each of the envelopes belonged. Her friend, Maureen, knew a psychic who performed psychometry and they thought they could find out who in the family was providing the energy for the supposed poltergeists. Charmaine and Maureen were to come down and pick up the envelopes and let us know the results as soon as possible.
This was becoming quite an education. Did you ever try to think of something to write on a slip of paper? It took the kids some time to come up with appropriate prose. The fact that no one would be reading them didn’t seem to matter at all. Even Phil cooperated.
Saturday–July 14, 1973
Friday the 13th had proven to be no different than any other day and, indeed, had turned out quieter than most. Charmaine and Maureen came today for the envelopes. Maureen, who belongs to a serio
us psychic study group, advised us to surround ourselves with “white light”. It was the first time (but not the last) I had ever heard that term. This is a way of saying “God’s grace” and is supposed to be a little easier to master. We were told to picture the house and then white light surrounding it. It seemed easy enough and we were willing to try just about anything at this point.
In the evening we gathered together, the kids and I, and tried our luck with the “white light”. I felt childishly pleased with myself when I pictured the house and even more pleased when I saw a bright white aura surrounding it. My pleasure turned to panic, however, when the vision suddenly changed, seemingly of its own volition. Rather than be alarmed, I was surprised and very puzzled.
My house was covered with leaves. They must have been oak leaves because they resembled tiny hands. There was a tree between the two living room windows and a tree in back by the utility room window. Both were growing up over the house and completely obscuring it. The leaves reaching out to cover the windows seemed to be growing out of the roof itself. I was horrified. I blurted out, “My house is covered with trees!”
Mike said scornfully, “Mom, you know our house has no trees around it!” Nevertheless, I couldn’t get the picture out of my mind. I closed my eyes again and saw a giant root snake from under the soil again. It was like watching a movie. I was not controlling my vision–my vision was controlling me. With trepidation, I mentioned the irrationality of my mental picture. Sensibly, Mike suggested, “Maybe you’ve got the wrong house.”
This made as much sense as anything else so I looked inward again. It was the wrong house, or at least it looked different from the house we were living in now. This house also had two differently slanted roofs but they were both on the same level where only one half of our house had two floors. The roof on the house in the vision was black, our roof was green. I felt an incredible sense of relief, although I can’t explain why. I still wonder whose house I saw.
On one of our drives through the surrounding countryside a few weeks later, the kids and I saw a house that duplicated the one in my vision. It was deserted and looked like it had been so for a long time. Whose house was it? And why had I seen it? Was it a vision of the past or the future? The answer scares me, whichever it is.
Tuesday–July 17, 1973
Thank God, it was comparatively quiet over the weekend and, as usual, we all hoped the peace would continue. Laura and Mary each had a friend over for the weekend so I was relieved when nothing happened. The kids’ guests weren’t, though. Visitors always want to see something. I guess they’re all hoping that something weird will happen so they can brag about it. Don’t they realize how frightening it is? I guess our fame or infamy, as the case may be, is spreading. I don’t know what this thing can do but I don’t want to put anyone in danger. It’s bad enough that our family is forced to face the unknown daily without dragging others into it.
Charmaine and Maureen brought the envelopes back today with the news that I was supposedly the power that was enabling the events in the house to occur and Mary was supposed to be the channel of that power. This seems rather odd because Mary wasn’t even in the house when most of the events were taking place. Since this whole thing is completely new to me, I don’t really understand what they mean. I am, I guess, supposed to have some psychic power. Anyway, they said my envelope jumped right out of Wally’s (the psychic) hand after getting uncomfortably hot when he held it. I found this hard to believe. Is my skepticism showing?
I didn’t realize when they told me, how deeply this news affected me. It gradually seeped in and, by supper time, I was blaming myself for all the happenings. Without realizing it, I became convinced I was hurting my own family. When Phil was getting ready for work, he suddenly noticed how upset I was and told me to call my mother. I don’t remember what I said to her but I know it alarmed her.
As Phil was leaving, I guess I started babbling. This particular part is very hazy to me and I wonder if I were in some kind of shock. Hindsight rears its ugly head again. I knew I was talking and couldn’t stop even though I was not fully aware of what I was saying. Phil decided to stay home. He called mum again and told her he couldn’t go in to work. She was glad he wasn’t going to leave me. He took me down to the restaurant in town for a drink. The owners of the Maple Manor are friends of ours and Phil wanted me to tell Bernice all that had happened.
I knew she was busy running the business, and frankly, figured she’d think I was nuts. Thank God, she didn’t. She listened and believed. She offered us shelter if we needed it and moral support which we freely acknowledged needing. I went home with a little of the tension relieved but my depression returned the minute I entered the house. It’s amazing the effect the house has on everyone’s feelings.
Jeff, Beth’s boyfriend, was getting ready to leave when we got home. I believe I went right to bed, although my recollections of that day are extremely hazy. As Beth said goodnight to Jeff at the back door, both of them heard the sound of a shovel being dragged in the gravel down the road. I’m glad they didn’t tell me about it until much later. Are they digging our graves?
Wednesday–July 18, 1973
I was working up in my garden today when my brother, Martin, his wife Mikki and their daughter, Michele, pulled up in their car. They said they were just passing by and thought they’d drop in. Since they live on Grand Island, about 80 miles away, I detected my mother’s fine hand in their visit and was suitably grateful. I took them for a quick tour of the house, trying to laugh off the areas that frightened me. When I told Martin that I thought Vincent Price lived in the cellar, instead of laughing, he nodded solemnly as though he agreed with me. That kind of shook me. We visited for a long time and Martin, who is a most sensible person, believed our story. He told me that Mikki was psychic and often scared him with her predictions. Phil tried, successfully, to talk them into staying the night. He probably thought he would have to stay home again if I didn’t have someone else here. It gave me a good feeling to know they all cared even though I didn’t consider all the concern necessary. Denial? A false sense of security? Hubris? Who knows.
Seeing Martin, I was reminded of his first visit to the house. Our front porch ceiling is unnaturally bulky looking and must have a large hollow space above it. Martin said at the time, “I think there are bodies buried in there!” Was he right?
We had another surprise visitor today. Bernice drove up with her waitress, Elaine, and wanted to take me to her house for the night. Even though I refused with thanks, she’ll never know how good she made me feel. Elaine made me a little apprehensive though when she took our Ouija Board. We had seldom used it and then always as a game with one memorable exception. Perhaps I should include at this point the experience the kids had with the Ouija Board.
As I said, we considered the board a game and nothing more. However, when we first began having suspicions about the normality of the house, the kids decided to “ask the Ouija”. I was not home. At the time, I kept a vigil light burning in front of a statue of Our Lady on the television set in the living room. The kids asked the Ouija Board what was going on and the planchette flew forcefully out from under their hands. After it did, the vigil light also became airborne and landed at their feet. Thankfully, the flame went out during its trip.
Beth had a doll at that time. It was the size of a two year old child and wore a two-year-old-child’s clothes. Lately, it had seemed threatening to her. In an excess of high spirits, the kids hanged the doll. They swore it was looking at them. After cutting it down, it scared them so much, they hid it in a closet. It was subsequently given to Grace (our camping neighbor) for her daughter Susan. The first night the doll spent with them in their house back in Buffalo, their beds began to rock all over the room. They hadn’t known the doll’s history. Grace, frightened half out of her wits, got up and put the doll in their garbage can. She watched fearfully the next morning as a garbage man took the doll out of the can and put it in the truck. I sometimes wo
nder who he gave it to.
However, I still have no qualms about Ouija Boards. When our troubles started, we needed a target so we sprinkled it with Holy Water and kicked it until it was bent. The violent action served to relieve our feelings of helplessness, nothing more. Elaine insisted she would prove it was nothing but a “child’s toy”. I told her we didn’t blame the board for anything but she kept insisting so I let her take it along when they left. Funny, though, I found out later she hadn’t taken it home as she had said she would but had hidden it in the storage closet in the restaurant.
Thursday–July 19, 1973
Martin and Mikki had to leave early today. I think they’re disappointed they didn’t see a ghost. They sat up most of the night watching Dolly’s nocturnal antics. She spent the better part of each night playing and was really a funny sight. I always thought that “Pepe le Pue’s” antics were merely cartoon license but skunks really do jump stiff-legged like that! In spite of Martin and Mikki’s disappointment, I’m glad nothing happened.
Echoes of a Haunting - Revisited Page 7
