by Ju Ephraime
“This is the end of your sixth day,” I told him.
“Six days,” he repeated. “I’ve been here for six days?”
“Yes,” I replied. “But you’re doing better now, and they’re going to move you into a private room. Try not to strain yourself to talk too much. I’ll read to you while you rest.”
But I could not help asking him, “Do you remember what happened when you were at home in the shower?”
“In the shower,” he repeated, as if he did not have a clue what I was talking about.
“You were taking a shower, and something must have happened because you were lying in the water, unconscious, when I found you. I thought you had a heart attack, but the doctor said no, your heart is strong and healthy. But he couldn’t explain what had caused you to pass out in the shower.”
“I was about to step out of the shower, when I felt someone or something behind me. I was turning around to see if it was you, and the next thing I knew, I woke up here.”
“Did you actually feel as if someone or something had pushed you?” I asked him again.
“No, I can’t say for certain. Lying here, I’ve been trying to put it all together, but I’m just drawing a blank.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. Just concentrate on getting better.”
But I could not say the same for myself. I was more convinced than ever that the ghost had tried to kill my husband. I was worried for my family because the ghost was getting stronger and more demanding. I decided neither one of us would return home until I had removed the hat from the house. Now that I’d seen the lengths the ghost would go to, I was scared to go into the house alone, scared to touch the hat, and scared to ask anyone to accompany me. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. One thing I knew: I had to remove that hat from my home.
I paced up and down the hospital corridor while the nurse tidied John up. I was so deep in thought, I almost ran into my mother before I was aware that she was standing there watching me.
“Syria, slow down,” she said as she grabbed my hand. “What’s the matter, did John take a bad turn?”
“No, Mom,” I answered. “But you won’t believe what John just told me. He did admit to not remembering clearly, and drawing a blank about what took place in the shower, but he believes someone or something had hit him in the head. That’s why he fell unconscious and almost drowned in the shower.”
“What? Is it that ghost again?”
“What else could it be?” I answered.
“Syria, I told you to do something about this a week ago. Why didn’t you?”
“I was going to, but I was trying to figure out why a ghost is in my home when there hadn’t been one before. I’d just figured it out, when John had his accident.”
“You know how the ghost got into your home?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“How?” she almost yelled.
“Mom, calm down. I believe the ghost got into the house through me. I brought the ghost into my home.”
“Syria, you’re not making any sense. How can someone bring a ghost in?”
“Mom, I didn’t do it deliberately, but I have to go back to John now. I’ll tell you about it when I leave here. I’ll stay with you and Dad and the girls until I figure out how to get the ghost out of the house.”
“This whole thing is so bizarre. I shudder to think what you did to bring a ghost into your home and now what you intend to do to get it out. You won’t listen to me and let me talk with Father Barthelme. I can’t talk with your father about this, and you haven’t discussed it with John. I don’t know how you think you could do all this by yourself, without discussing it with your husband. You're just too stubborn, Syria.”
“I know it sounds strange, but I’ll take care of it, Mom.”
“You do that, Syria. In the meantime, I don’t want to know the gory details. Just do it!”
***
That night, I spent the night with John in his room, and by the time I left the next morning, he was doing much better. Even the doctors were amazed by the progress he was making. I hurried to my parents, and after breakfast, we all returned to the hospital to visit with John.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed when we walked in, and the girls were on him, almost knocking him off the bed.
“Girls, girls, please restrain yourselves. Your father isn’t to get overly excited.
They were so excited that they were both practically lying on him on the bed. John was too weak to remain sitting, but he hugged them both and all three of them were crying. My mom and dad were crying also. I had shed enough tears since this thing began, so I just stood there watching them, feeling far removed from this surreal experience. I was emotionally drained – exhausted; I had to walk out of the room to regain my composure.
When I was able to return to the room, John was again sitting on the edge of the bed with the girls on either side of him. My parents were sitting on the one couch in the room, talking with John. We all spent a while talking, but I had asked them not to question their father about the day he had the accident. I was happy they had respected my request and talked about everything else. When it became apparent that John was getting tired, I asked them to leave so he could get some rest.
After they reluctantly left, I sat with John, who expressed a desire to stand. I did not think he should be overdoing things and told him so.
“I’m tired of lying down. I want to take a short walk down the corridor, holding onto the railings on one side and you on the other. I need to know if my legs will carry me. We won’t go too far from the room, but I want to see if I can walk by myself without falling.”
“Oh, all right,” I agreed, “but only a short distance. I don’t want something to happen, and I can’t get you back to the room.”
So we left the room with John hanging onto the railing and me holding onto him as we negotiated the hallway outside his room. We had only gone a little ways when we had to stop. I had not realized how weak John really was. The walk back to his room went much faster. Boy, I was never so happy to see the hospital bed. John practically fell into it. This little walk had wiped him out, but it was a start.
John dozed off while I was talking to him, so I walked out of the room and down the corridor. I walked back into the room and sat in the chair, and my mind went back to the problem I had at home with the hat and the ghost. I still did not have a way of taking the hat out of the house, and more than anything, I did not know what to do with it. I thought I could return it to O’Mallery, but somehow I did not think that would work.
My mom and dad were very understanding; they did not question me about my decision to remain with them rather than taking the girls and returning to my home.
I felt like such a fool. I did not know how to go about getting the ghost out of my home, but I was determined about one thing. We would not return to the house until it was gone. I also seriously considered my mother’s advice about calling a ghost buster, but in the meantime, I spent all day and night with John in the hospital. We had continued our short walks down the corridor, and after two days of doing this, he was able to not only walk on his own but, complete the walk, back and forth without stopping. I was very impressed with his determination to get better, and so were his doctors.
I’d still not discussed with him the possibility that a ghost was in our home and was responsible for him being in the hospital. I’d tried every approach in my head and none of them sounded plausible. By the way John, we have a ghost in our house and it is trying to kill you because it does not want to share me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
John continued to make rapid progress, and three days after he came out of the coma, his doctor informed me they would be releasing him the following morning. I became frantic; I did not want to take John to my parents because he would question that decision, so I had to make the house ready for him. My first move was to find out from his doctors if he would be able to negotiate the stairs. All our bedrooms w
ere upstairs, but in the meantime, I needed to do some research on getting rid of the hat.
I had gone to my home to collect the mail and did not even enter the house. I drove straight to my parents. I went through the mail while I ate the food my mother had placed in front of me. I was so preoccupied with everything going on with my life I sometimes would forget to eat. Just as I picked up the local paper to find out what was going on in the community, a thought came to me about an article I had read in the paper the day before.
“Johanna,” I called. “Didn’t I read in the paper they’re getting ready for their annual church fair at Saint Andrew’s?”
“Yes,” Johanna replied. “This year, they’re having a fair and an auction, but it’s not for a couple of weeks. Are we going to go, Mama? I didn’t want to ask because I thought you had enough going on, what with Dad being in the hospital and all, but I’d love to go.”
“Your father is making excellent progress and will be coming home tomorrow. I was thinking of going antiquing as soon as things return to normal at home, but I would like to go to the church this afternoon to talk with Father Barthelme. I have something I would like to donate to the auction.”
“What are you donating, Mama?” Kelsey asked, walking into the room.
They were both excited about the idea of donating something to the church’s auction.
“Girls, do you recall the black top hat we found on our front step the last time we went antiquing?”
“Yes, ” they answered in unison.
“I had put it on top of my armoire in my room. Get dressed and go visit your father, and I’ll go get the hat to donate it to the church.”
“Why, Mama? Don’t you like it? I thought you loved that hat. I always see it around you wherever you are,” Kelsey said with a light laugh.
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“Well, sometimes, it’s in the kitchen. I’ve seen it in the hallway outside of your bedroom. I have seen it in your bathroom, even on the stairs. I thought you were moving it around, looking for a good place for it.”
“Did you see it too, Johanna?” I asked.
“No, Mama, and Kelsey never mentioned it to me, either.”
“Kelsey, did you touch that hat when you saw it lying around?”
“No, ” she replied. “Why would I move it?”
“I was just wondering,” I told her. I was eternally grateful that my daughters were such obedient girls. I was happy neither of them had touched that hat, because if they had, things could have been altogether different.
I wondered why the hat had revealed itself to Kelsey and not Johanna. Why just Kelsey? She was only a child. Was he planning to violate my young daughter? That question had me terrified and angry. But I took comfort in the fact that neither of them had touched the hat. That got me thinking about poor John at the hospital. I needed to ask him about the hat, but I needed to get that hat out now!
I was such a nervous wreck that I picked up the phone and called him at the hospital because I needed to know that the hat had no other connection with my family.
“John, do you remember the day I brought the black top hat into the house?”
“No,” he replied. “I wasn’t home when you found it, but I do recall seeing it on the nightstand next to our bed. It’s been on the armoire for months. But now that you asked, I believe I saw it in the middle of the bed while I was undressing before going into the bathroom. Is that the hat you are referring to? I wondered why you kept moving it.”
“Yes, but I never moved the hat from the armoire.”
“Then who moved it?” he asked. “I certainly didn’t.”
I remained silent trying to process this new information. Why was the hat moving around and only revealing itself to certain people in the household? I had my definite proof that the hat was indeed possessed, and for whatever the reason, it had targeted my husband and younger daughter. But why the two of them and not Johanna? Not that I wanted Johanna to have been subjected to this too. The hat had been slowly taking over my home. It tried to control my youngest daughter, who it thought was the weakest link in the household. Next, it targeted my husband, who was without a doubt a threat. Maybe it thought if it could get him out of the way, then it would have the run of my home.
Before I hung up with John, I told him I would be coming to visit him later. I became more confident that I would be able to handle removing the hat. This confidence came from the knowledge that I was the only one who had touched the hat, and I was the one who had brought it into our home, into our bedroom. I was the one who had to take it out and remove the control the entity exerted over my life, particularly in the bedroom, because I had unwittingly invited it in.
Ordinarily I would have gotten the girls to take the hat down to the church for donation, but I knew this was not the wisest thing. So I braced myself and prepared mentally to enter my home.
As I entered the house, I immediately felt a chill come over me, as every strand of hair on my body lifted. I was not certain if my hair was also standing on edge, I was too scared to find out. The change began from the crown of my head to the sole of my feet. My entire body felt electrified. I flipped on the light and stood in the hallway, trying to gauge what exactly was causing me to feel that way. But the electrified feeling was quickly replaced by a persistent sense of impending doom. Had it not been for my family, I would have turned around and run out of the door as if the “hounds of hell were at my heels.” But I had to think of John and how I’d almost lost him.
While I stood there trying to build up some courage, the lights flickered and the room darkened, or perhaps it was my overactive imagination playing tricks on me. As I stood there shivering, I thought I saw an outline of a man looking at me from the foot of the stairs. When I looked again, no one was there.
I took timid steps, one at a time, towards the stairs. Again, the figure of a man appeared, this time at the head of the stairs. It was so faint it could almost be a reflection. When I reached for the light switch that would have illuminated the entire stairwell, a hand brushed over mine. It was cold and moist. I pulled my hand back, then turned to confront the ghost behind me.
This time, I distinctly saw a face. It was the same face I had seen in the television screen. I could not tell if it was O’Mallery’s son because his features were very blurry, but this individual indeed wore a top hat.
I felt as if someone or something breathed down my neck, so I put up my hand to ward off the person. The image blurred as the stairwell filled with a gray presence. The stairs creaked as if someone walked up toward the bedroom. The cold clammy fingers of the gray matter whirled around me, holding me captive as the presence continued up the stairs. Then it was as if I was being transported up the stairs without my feet moving.
I wanted to run out of the house, but I was held captive, similar to the sensation I experienced during the night while being sexually assaulted by the entity. I began to fight to remain downstairs. As long as I remained downstairs, I would be safe. The harder I fought, the stronger the pull towards the bedroom became. Just when I thought I had lost the battle, I felt a deep sense of sadness come over me. It was so overwhelming that I almost fell to my knees on the stairs. The feeling was so strong I began to weep, deep wracking sobs that shook my body, so deep was my pain. I do not know how long I stood there weeping, but when I finally had the strength to raise my eyes, the presence was gone, and I was able to move again.
I ran out of the house. I had to concede that I was not strong enough to fight the spirit that possessed the hat and my home. I drove back to my parents’ home. I shook so badly my mother thought I was coming down with a fever. I could not go to the hospital to visit John, so my mother and the girls went, and I remained at the house with my father.
When they returned from visiting John, my mother said he had made remarkable progress and was looking forward to going home. I did not know what to do. How could I, in all good conscience, allow John back into the house withou
t first getting rid of the hat?
I was sitting in the kitchen worrying over the situation when I had an epiphany. Why not arrange a makeshift bedroom downstairs in the family room until John was better?
***
I immediately flew into a frenzy of action. I called Tim, the handyman, and arranged to meet him at the house. It was already dusk when I pulled into my driveway, and Tim was there waiting for me. We went into the house together. I did not feel the presence like I had earlier in the day, but I was all business. I explained to him that John was being released from the hospital the next day, and I needed to have a temporary room set up for him because he would not be able to negotiate the stairs in his condition. I proceeded to show him where I wanted him to divide up the family room so John could have some privacy, and I needed a line taken from the bar sink to set up a face basin in the room. I tried to impress upon him that money was no object, and that I was willing to pay him to complete the entire thing that night.
After he had taken all the measurements, I gave him fifteen hundred dollars in cash to buy the materials he would need. I also gave him the key to the back door and told him to call me at my parents’ house when he was done.
I could not wait to leave the house. I thought of something when I had driven two blocks. I called Tim up on the phone to tell him.
“Tim,” I said. “Under no circumstances should you go upstairs. Regardless of what you hear, do not go up the stairs to the bedrooms.”
“Why?” he asked laughing. “Do you have a boogey man up there?”
“That isn’t funny, Tim,” I responded. “Just remember, don’t go upstairs.”
I had no concept of, nor did I understand the powers that allow someone to move about without detection. But I did know that from now on I would be more cautious as to what I brought into my home. I had no one to blame but myself for bringing this entity into my home. Inviting a ghost into your home without even knowing is not something that would have ever crossed my mind before, but now I’d become a believer. I did not need convincing; I had lived the reality of this phenomenon.
