The Sallie House Haunting: A True Story

by Debra Pickman

  Instead, she roamed between the living and dining rooms for a few minutes, seemingly quite antsy and distracted, and then settled on the couch closest to the front door. She began telling us little things she was feeling and before we realized it, she had connected with the spirit in our house. Later, she told us how she felt when she’d first come into the house; she experienced a really heavy, smothering feeling in her chest, as if she were short of breath. She had tried to communicate to the spirit that she wasn’t there to harm her and she didn’t have to be scared. Barbara reported that the heaviness lifted and she was finally able to sit down shortly afterward.

  Having never been in the same room with a psychic, I continued to take notice of how she “communicated.” I wanted to do everything possible to be sure this was the real deal and that we weren’t being played for fools to be strung along and set up for some future financial gain. Barbara sat quietly, sometimes closing her eyes or staring straight ahead, mentally trying to foster a trusting relationship and make emotional contact with Sallie. Through the contact, she would then try to understand and relay the feelings that were being conveyed. That in itself was hard to grasp, as the words she replied with were spoken in her own voice, but in the manner and language of a young child.

  Then unexpectedly, Barbara asked, “Does anyone have a toothache?” I raised my hand and volunteered that I’d recently had a lot of dental work done; no one else claimed any pain. “No,” Barbara said, “a pain, a toothache.” She said this while grimacing and holding the left side of her face. She then told us she was trying to distinguish between the feelings of the people in the room and those of the spirit.

  She then held out her right hand, rubbing the palm. “Has anyone hurt their hand?” No one claimed that one either. “Okay, okay,” Barbara said, apparently better able to determine what feelings were the spirit’s, she went on. “She’s got a toothache and a bad pain in her hand. She probably died with these pains. They could be connected with how she died.” Then abruptly she turned to me and blurted out, “You do a lot of things that bug her!”

  I raised my eyebrows. Barbara went on: “You’re too bossy! She says you’re too bossy.” She then went on to ask, “Have you talked to her about rules?” I replied with a most definite, “Yes,” and began telling her of the things I’d talked to her about; all the things that Barbara and I had discussed via phone and especially the recent lighting of the candles in the bathroom.

  With George fumbling with the video camera and Barbara quite absorbed in communicating, I don’t think she heard what I’d said about the candles that Sallie seemed to have set aflame. Had she heard, I would have expected a more significant reaction considering the safety issue that immediately came to mind. Instead, Barbara remained with her head down, trying to focus. During these awkward moments of silence, the rest of us exchanged many a questioning look. Presently, Barbara lifted her head and spoke.

  Looking directly at me, “She doesn’t like it!” I’m sure I looked exactly what I was thinking, which was who does she think she is anyway? Barbara continued, “I tried to tell her you weren’t meaning to be bossy, but that she needed discipline, and you were trying to teach her right from wrong. I don’t think she likes it, but then again, what child likes to be disciplined or told no?”

  I felt very worried at this point. If she didn’t like my bossiness or the rules, what was she capable of doing in anger or defiance? Then Barbara added, in a childlike way, “There’s too many rules. She can’t remember them all.” Hearing those words eased my irritation and anger.

  Barbara suggested we help Sallie remember the rules by occasionally repeating them. “When speaking to her, tell her to remember that we don’t play with fire, we don’t hurt Tony etc … Keep in mind it is as if you have just adopted a little girl and you need to be patient and understanding but firm. Remember she is very young, and kids of this age often need to be reminded of things.” Rodney asked how old Sallie was. “Seven,” Barbara said, and in a young childish tone of voice, she repeated the words, “I’m seven.”

  The whole process of her communicating with a spirit was truly amazing. None of us really talked much; we nodded in agreement while Barbara talked and we were very aware of what we might be telling Sallie via verbal or non-verbal communication.

  Barbara asked if Sallie woke the baby at night. It was not anything she and I had discussed previously, and at this point I let out a big, “Oh, yeah!” I told her of the trouble we had been having with his waking up shortly after we put him down following a diaper change and feeding. “I get the feeling she’s been waking him,” Barbara said. “You need to be firm in telling her not to. She may have just wanted to play with him or maybe she’s been reminding him to breathe. I can’t tell.”

  This comment brought SIDS (sudden infant death syndrome) to mind. If Taylor was in danger of SIDS, Sallie may have saved him countless times each night. I felt a sense of queasiness followed by a heartfelt thankfulness.

  Barbara shared that from her point of view, the stuffed animals and the baby were the only things Sallie had to play with. Barbara thought that the focus on playing with Taylor would stop, or at least lessened, if we were to get her a doll or some toy to call her own.

  I had already thought how nice it would be to give Sallie something she could call her own; a doll seemed perfect. Barbara said that if we were to ask Sallie a question and then concentrate, the first thing that came into our mind would probably be Sallie’s answer. I tried this, but it didn’t seem to work. I was unsure if Sallie was simply being stubborn, if I was unable to concentrate properly, or if she just wasn’t in the room when I made these attempts.

  I asked Barbara to talk to Sallie and ask if a doll would be all right. “Well, all right,” Barbara said in a childlike way, as if Sallie was being made to settle for something less than what she wanted. Barbara said she could tell it wasn’t going to be enough; Sallie still wanted to be with the baby. I told Barbara, “Tell Sallie it is okay with me if she spends time with Taylor, but she just had to be careful when playing with him.” Barbara responded, “Okay,” in an excited, childlike manner.

  Looking directly at me, Barbara said, “She’s warmer to you because you’re the mommy.” She said she got the feeling that Sallie had suffered abuse in some way. “Perhaps her father or another man abused her, and that’s why she attacked Tony the other night. She’s acting as the baby’s guardian angel. She’s protecting the baby, and men make her uneasy.” She reiterated the need to be firm with Sallie, to remind her that we had to be the ones to take care of Taylor’s physical needs, and that if she interfered or hurt us, she would be punished. Again I wondered how on earth we would go about punishing someone we couldn’t see. How would we actually know if she was taking her punishment at all? But before I could voice these concerns, Barbara was on to another topic.

  “I don’t think she’ll leave the house. She feels safe and secure here.” We told Barbara of the research results we had come up with at the library. “Maybe she had been treated by the doctor who had owned the house; maybe she liked him and followed him home. Whatever the reason, she likes it here.” At this time, Barbara voiced her only concern, which was how Sallie would deal with our inevitable move. We were only renting the house and would eventually have to move. It was doubtful that she would accept it nicely. We wondered if she would unleash a temper tantrum to show us how unhappy she was about it. Would she throw or break things, set more fires, or do physical harm to someone? The question left an unsettled feeling in the back of my mind because I knew that one day we would have to deal it.

  Barbara suggested that when we moved, we should discuss it with Sallie first. Perhaps after we had built a relationship with her, she would be more understanding and trusting of us. If we were up front with her, she might not feel we were abandoning her, and if we felt comfortable with the idea, we could even offer that she move with us. Barbara felt that desp
ite the invitation Sallie would remain behind.

  Throughout the evening, our conversation jumped haphazardly. Barbara tried to tell us of the things Sallie was saying as they became known to her. The topics changed quickly, because young children have a very short attention span.

  I told Barbara I had been talking to Sallie a lot during the last couple of days as a way to give her positive reinforcement. I mentioned suggesting that she swing the ball on the ceiling fan as a way of letting us know she was around. At this point I reinforced to Sallie that I liked knowing when she was around because then I knew I could talk to her.

  I went on to describe a recent day in the nursery when I had been changing Taylor. He was still too little to roll off the changing table on his own, and I asked Sallie if she would help me by watching him while I stepped out of the room. When I returned, I thanked Sallie and told her she’d done a great job. Barbara excitedly said, “Oh, good, real good. Keep doing things like that.” I saw Tony’s eyes roll up and back into his head.

  She urged me to continue talking and interacting with Sallie in an attempt to gain her trust. Barbara looked at Tony and urged him to do the same, but it was obvious that he was uncomfortable with the idea. She said, “I know you’ll feel funny, like you’re talking to the air, but you’re not. She really is there. People will probably laugh at you, but they don’t have to know you do it.” Tony agreed with her about the laughing part. I could tell that if he ever talked to her, it would be very rarely.

  Barbara asked if Sallie had bothered the two kittens. Before I had a chance to reply, she said, “She likes them. Do they ever cry out?” I told her that up to this point I hadn’t noticed any erratic behavior or drastic change in their playfulness, but that I had honestly not been looking for any either.

  Next we discussed Sallie’s ability to light fires. Barbara told us she didn’t need a lighter or matches to do so. She went on to say that Sallie traveled in or with some sort of energy field and that’s what she drew on to light the fires. Barbara stressed the fact that she lit fires, Sallie should be severely reprimanded or punished. “Perhaps send her to her room,” Barbara suggested.

  I asked Barbara about the cold air I had felt several times on the stairs. “Could Sallie cause this?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Spirits can bring warm air or cold air with them. Being that it is hot and muggy here, she probably brings cold air.” I told her that there was mold growing on odd things in the house, such as the pots and pans, the dog food in the bowl, the magnets on the refrigerator, and some of my Tupperware and small appliances. It was something we noticed shortly after the baby came home and had continued until about two weeks before Barbara’s arrival. She said it could be caused by the mix of Sallie’s energy and that of the house.

  I remembered that several weeks before, the house has been filled with the distinct smell of cooked broccoli, although there had been no broccoli in the house. Tony had not experienced the smell. When I asked Barbara if the broccoli aroma could be from Sallie or signify her presence, she said, “Oh, sure. She could bring you the smells of things she likes.” Then she bowed her head in mental communication. “She does like broccoli. She also likes one of the perfumes you wear.” I began naming a few of the fragrances I enjoyed, hoping for a confirmation. “She might not know it by name,” Barbara said, then paused, “Pearls come to mind.” I did have an Avon perfume called Pearls and Lace that was not among those I had already named.

  Barbara suggested that we gather some things together and put them out for Sallie to play with. She suggested an old pair of shoes, jewelry, clothes, etc … “But be careful what you give her. For instance, you might not want to give her high heels because you might hear the annoying click-clack of the heels on the floor. Also pick a place for her things—a shelf or box—and put them there. Tell her these things are hers to play with, but she has to put them away when she’s done so no one trips over them. She wants something to call her own, she doesn’t want to get into trouble playing with your things, she wants to play with something she knows would be safe from Mommy or Daddy saying no. Yes, that’s definitely the feeling I get from her. You’ll probably want to pick somewhere in the nursery to put her things because that’s where she spends most of her time.”

  My thoughts traveled to the crayons I had left Sallie a few days earlier, and I described where they were. I asked Barbara if she liked the crayons. Barbara bowed her head again, and then said in Sallie’s tone of voice, “Yes, I like the crayons. I’m trying to do it.” Then, in her own voice, “She’s trying to work it up, trying to find a way to do it, to answer you.” I had not yet mentioned that I had asked Sallie to draw me a picture or answer the question I’d written for her. I was impressed, and mentioned that three days prior I had written a question asking how old she was.

  We discussed the possibility that maybe Sallie was too young to have known how to write and that her inability to read might also be making her response difficult. Perhaps it was too hard to focus enough energy to form the letters. Barbara said, “She might still do it, it might just take her a while.”

  I thought how interesting it would be if Sallie and I could communicate on a regular basis through writing or pictures. I thought of how much I, and others interested in the paranormal, could learn!

  We asked whether Sallie was in the bedroom with us when we slept. Barbara answered with a definite “yes.” Then she stressed that the baby should continue to sleep in the same room with us for as long as possible or until we could get Sallie acquainted with what was right and wrong. If Sallie were a physical person, it would naturally be a great concern to leave someone so young alone with a newborn baby. A child spirit was no different, and although Barbara was trying not to alarm us, she wanted us to understand that accidents can and do happen.

  Because Sallie was new to the family and perhaps to a newborn baby, we couldn’t trust her not to play too roughly with him. Did she know that she shouldn’t lift him or push the swing too hard? Barbara was trying to tell us that Sallie needed to find out where and how she fit in with us before having freedom to be with the baby. I wondered how I would stop her and hoped my presence in the room would deter any questionable or risky activity on her part.

  George asked Barbara if Sallie would do things while other people were around or in the house. Barbara responded that Sallie might do so, but would be more comfortable with the family and thus more likely to do things around us. Then, as if jumping into the conversation via Barbara, Barbara spoke in Sallie’s childlike voice and said, “I’ll show off for your friends if you want.”

  The idea that Sallie had just voluntarily communicated something to us made us feel as though she was already starting to feel more comfortable. From her statement, I could tell she liked attention—what little girl doesn’t?

  I asked Barbara if she knew why Sallie had picked the time during my sister’s visit to make her presence known to us, and why she did the things she was doing. “Well, if she just floats through doors and walls,” Barbara said, “you don’t know she’s there. She wants to be noticed; she wants your attention and love. Maybe she felt comfortable with your sister, or maybe she wanted someone else to witness her antics and know she was here.” I wondered if Sallie saw how much love and attention the new baby was getting from us and Karen, and in jealousy acted out for her own portion of attention. Barbara looked at Tony and said, “You need to make friends with her, too.” I could tell Tony was thinking, “Yeah, right. I’m not going to talk to something floating above my head.”

  We asked about the time in which Sallie lived, and Barbara admitted that she was not very good at determining that sort of thing; she really had no answer for us. Tony started to tell her about a dream he’d had the night before, in which Sallie and a boy named Jonathan were sitting against a tree in the yard. Sallie was calling the boy by name and had her arm stretched out while pointing to something. Tony, being
an excellent sketch artist, had drawn what he’d seen in his dream, and he shared the drawing with Barbara. Sallie was wearing a blue dress and had long chestnut hair. The boy was wearing knickers. Barbara said, “That’s a very good likeness of her.” As we continued to discuss the fashions depicted in the drawing, we concluded that Sallie might have lived in the late 1930s or early 1940s. Barbara made reference to the fact that Tony’s dream could have been the manifestation of Sallie’s consciousness. In other words, it might have been something Sallie was trying to show him.

  To this day, we have not yet been able to figure out who Jonathan was. We have wondered if he was the reason Sallie was so attached to Taylor. Had Jonathan been a younger relative when she was alive, or just a friend? In the end, there was no confirmation from Barbara or Sallie on any of it.

  About an hour into the visit, we offered to take Barbara to the nursery, thinking that if Sallie spent most of her time up there, maybe Barbara could get a stronger feeling in that area. She responded eagerly. Her sister opted to stay downstairs, and said she would keep a lookout.

  Carrying the baby in my arms, I went up first, followed by Barbara and the rest. George brought the video camera, and Tony had the Polaroid, which he later exchanged for the 35mm camera. Shortly after stepping into the room, I started to feel claustrophobic and it was hard to breathe. It was as if there wasn’t enough oxygen for all of us. I had never felt so weird, and in my perplexed state, I turned around to look at Barbara.

  Throughout her visit, I had watched her intently her in an attempt to understand her and what was being presented. In my skepticism, I was desperately trying to read her movements and mannerisms. I noticed now that Barbara’s breath had become labored. She pointed to the northwest corner of the room and said, “That’s her corner.” She paused, and then, still looking at the corner, said, “She’s standing right there.” George moved in closer with the camera and Tony took two pictures of the corner while Barbara and I continued to talk.