The Ghostly Chronicles: Chapter 6 It's Not There
So here we are going into the Labor Day weekend in a few days with my escape from the boogeyman just days away. My uncle is staying with us for moral support and "muscle." I chuckle as I say that because my uncle was a very slightly built man, but he was as tough as nails. He had been a Paratrooper and a Marine during WW2, and there wasn't too much he was afraid of, man or beast. Now, every night in the house had an increase in and/or different activity happening. Almost like whatever was going on was gaining strength or just becoming braver. There simply isn't any other way to describe it; we aren't talking about a fairy tale. This was some kind of unknown activity we were dealing with.
Things started snowballing so quickly that it is hard to separate one day from the next. The activity was beginning to happen shortly after darkness set in and last until dawn. Not steady non-stop action, not yet anyway, but there was never more than a half-hour that something didn't happen. The finger-snapping had become incessant; it seemed like a warning like. "hey, are you ready?' There were no longer just a few cold spots for short periods of time; the stairway and hallway leading to my room were constantly cold. Maybe it was "the path." It really did seem that way. And the noise of something that sounded like a marble or a rock being thrown from the bottom of the stairway happened every night. And just like that first night, we never found any solid article that had been thrown. The only thing on the floor was collie hair. Every time I would put Glen in the bassinet or change him while he was in the bassinet, I would be touched. I wondered if something was touching Glen, too, not that he could tell me, but whatever it was wasn't hurting him because he didn't cry unless he was hungry or needed changing.
What do you do when you are being tormented by something you couldn't see or explain? Well, you slept together as a group so that nobody would be isolated and targeted. Every time you went to tinkle, you wondered if you had an audience. It just made you feel victimized as if you were not in control, which we weren't. How much could they see? Were we their private reality network, their version of Die Nasty? (Dynasty) Were they laughing at our fear? Or maybe they couldn't see us, maybe they thought we were intruders and bumps in the night in their world. You would have to think that if we were aware of them, they were aware of us, right? Was this a Twilight Zone episode that we kept living, or was it Hell or a split dimension? I don't know.
We had a newspaper delivered by a boy that lived about 2 doors down. When he came to collect the subscription money, my mom and I started asking him questions. How long had he lived in the neighborhood, was it a quiet neighborhood, did he know the family that owned the house we were renting? And most important, had anyone that he knew of died in the house? He was about 12, and he answered all of our questions, and all of his responses were normal. One last question did he know if anyone in the neighborhood had any weird things happening in the houses at night? He asked, "Like what?' Like bumping or banging, doors closing by themselves? He had a peculiar look on his face, and then he said no. I couldn't tell if he really meant yes or just thought we were basket cases. I think we scared him. And I am sure that he thought we were total idiots. Well, at least we tried.
We did make a decision to trash the chair in the basement. It was the only piece of furniture left in the house by the family, and it sounded like it was being moved and thrown around every night. Maybe something was attached to that chair. Not my theory, but open the damn door and let's get this out of here. We drove way down in the boonies of Allentown Road and chunked that sucker on the side of the road. Wouldn't it be nice if we went home and nothing else happened? No such luck, in fact, now maybe it was a coincidence, but things got worse.
I was sitting on the sofa and watching TV, eating dinner, Ronnie had just come back home, and he was sitting in "the Ronnie chair" doing the same thing. It was quiet, too quiet, maybe. Everyone else was in the dining room, eating. I felt like somebody was watching me, and I glanced over at the foyer and saw nothing but the vacuum cleaner sitting there. It was one of those canister models, and it had an extensive chrome or metal strip around the center of it, very common for that time. I looked away, and then I looked back and stared at it. I looked at it and then looked around where we were sitting. Our reflection was in that metal piece, huh. When I looked at it closer, none of the other objects reflected from where we were sitting were showing on the vacuum in more depth. Truly, this was and is the most unexplainable, incredible thing that I have ever seen in my life. All of the furniture where we were sitting was wood when you looked at the vacuum, and there was a window behind me with purple curtains. We were sitting on navy blue upholstered furniture and behind me was a solid wall. What the hell? In a whisper, I told my brother to look at the vacuum and don't say anything, but look at it carefully. I gave him a few seconds, and then I asked him what he saw. He was very hesitant to answer, and then he described the same thing I saw. He pulled out his camera and took pictures of it. It was still there. I picked Glen up and went into the kitchen area. I told my uncle and mom very quietly to go out and look at the vacuum. As soon as they walked towards it, it was normal. What the hell, I mean really, what the hell was that? It looked like 1800's decor, all wood, plain, no-frills. Again, I am not crazy. And that vacuum scene scared the hell out of my brother and me. What next?
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