And in the end…
Twenty years, that was my sentence in that house. Twenty long years. I always thank whomever for having my older sisters there with me so I could tell I wasn’t crazy. We had a crazy great Aunt in our family so we are always checking with each other with our standard, “What do you think? Am I being crazy?” Only we meant it literally.
Luckily we did have a few witnesses along the way. I’ll share two more, the rest I’ll save for the future book, hey you never know, right?
Take those sunken eyes and learn to see…
“When my mom and I came and stayed in gonna call it the porch that was made into a room, oh that was terrifying. Had to get up to go to the bathroom, and when returning to the room I felt something boring into the back of my head. I jumped back in the bed and covered my face it felt very bad, like poltergeist
Another time I was sleeping on a roll away bed next to the big radiator on my back, i was able to tilt my head back and see the clock on the wall but I wasn’t able to move my body like something was holding me down. Then I remember taking a shower and not being able to pick up my feet as if they were glued down.
The hallway was the worst at feeling something to me, in front of the bathroom by your parents bedroom….creepy as hell.”
When I find myself in times of trouble mother Judy comes to me…
I wanted to mention just a little bit on the bathroom. Between watching the movie Psycho (which incidentally scared my Mother’s ass off in the theatre) way to young and ghosts running a muck in my house, I absolutely dreaded taking a shower. There was only one way in hell that was happening, my poor mother had to sit in the bathroom with me. To watch my back so to speak. She did it for us all. And when she was in the shower we sat lined up in the room with her like little ducks. I should mention our bathroom was huge. It also had a phone and a good lock in it. It was our panic room. Intruder comes in, grab the aluminum bat, run to the bathroom, lock the door and call 911. We just had to get passed the dead to get there so we had choices to make….
I get by with a little help from my friends…
“If I can just make it past the dryer in the hallway I’ll be fine. This was my thought as I booked it up the back stairs of the Main Street house where my best friend lived, Sasy’s big sister lived. I don’t recall ever navigating those stairs at a walking pace. My dad would drop me off out front and I would make my way down the driveway to the back door. It was a good day if you opened the outside door to find the cellar door closed. There was no gaping maw of evil to deal with then and you could just move fast up the dim stairway, make it around the corner at at the top of the landing, traverse the straightaway, turn left at the dryer and bust through the door, which was never locked and for good reason ( Ghosties hot on your tail), into the kitchen. Here I would be met most times by a heckling crowd gathered around the kitchen table which included Sasy and her sister’s, and their many assorted friends. So safety, in other words.
I had my own creepy basement In the house I grew up in. Not an old house at the time, but built on land where battles took place in King Phillip’s War. There was an unfriendly area there. There were two rooms near the bulkhead, one for laundry and the other my Dad’s workroom. I would hear my name spoken if I was alone and the bell on the bulkhead door would ding when no one was done there, my Mom would send me down with a load of wash and as I approached the door I would say out loud “don’t mess with me, I’m just here to do my laundry!” Then I would run through the cellar and back up the stairs. There is a certain feeling associated with knowing there is something other nearby and when you turn your back you damn well better scoot. Like someone is trying to goose you. So I was familiar with this feeling when I was introduced to the Main Street house. I also had my shields in place and my phasers set to kill by that time from my own childhood experiences. I think this is why I wasn’t meddled with to much when I was there. I was locked down tight. If that cellar door was open, I’d be all “oh no you don’t!” And then begin my desperate sprint up the stairs, around the creepy corner landing, gotta get past the dryer and I’m in!
As creepy as the basement gauntlet was, what was worse, to me, was the short hallway between my friend’s bedroom and her parent’s bedroom, with the bathroom in the middle. I was pretty sure this was the portal to hell. I had to make the choice, hold it, with bladder explosion or venture in there alone with good chance I would be sucked somewhere off planet. If I went in, it was fast, don’t look left or right, be as expeditious as you can and get the hell out. This area was ripe with activity for those living there and there was just an active bad feeling there for me. It was like a black hole and I, to this day, Have dreams about that area. I was surprised that Sasy’s sister didn’t mention in her entry how she was grabbed by the ankle and held in place while she was showering. If I recall she was also called by name too. Which is super creepy if it happens to you because it’s personal. I guess she didn’t want to revive that memory.
I remember I slept over one time and one time only. I spent the the night on the floor of the bedroom with one eye open all night, monitoring the bedroom closets, the portal to hell hallway and the underneath of the bed right next to my head. I didn’t even allow my feet to poke out of the blankets.
I don’t even know how they managed to sleep there on a regular basis. My friend is permanently warped by living there as evidenced by her particular sleep habits. When we go on vacation together she packs ear plugs, stygian darkness and white noise are necessary to her for proper sleep.
So, for me, my experience of the Main Street house was the feeling of the place mostly. I didn’t want to see anything or get all touchy feely with a ghost or whatever. But I knew they were there. And I believe the stories of Sasy and her sisters and their mom.
It helps to explain why they are all so crazy…”
He’s as blind as he can be, just sees what he wants to see…
You’ve read that my mom was the kick ass ghostbuster of the neighborhood…who ya gonna call? Judy that’s who…now as for my dad, we haven’t mentioned him often because he saw only one weird thing the whole time we lived there (A red negligee on the bed). He was completely oblivious. Singing away no fear or worries practicing a new song in the shower like we were living in a normal universe. He didn’t realize that everyday was the same thing, whatever we lived with would mimic the sounds he made coming up the stairs everyday, the whistling, keys jiggling and grocery bags crinkling. My mom would say, “open the door for your dad” and guess what he was never there!Now he didn’t say directly he didn’t believe us, but I know at first he didn’t. Then the whole neighborhood had issues and really, we couldn’t all be nuts…I love him, I miss him, but he was the skeptic from hell. And unfortunately he made the money so we were trapped, till he decided we were moving…twenty freaking years later…
We all did the best we could to ignore and adapt to our environment. We had each other. We didn’t let the spooks ruin everything. As a family we loved and laughed a lot. I can see the laugh lines forming now. My friends all wanted my parents to adopt them because they saw us interacting as a family laughing and living life. People always ask why I’m always jacked in, what’s with the constant music? Well we all came together around music. I can hear a song and immediately think of something ridiculous that happened growing up. My dad was an entertainer, he sang constantly. But most important it blocked out noises, voices and kept my brain occupied. Still does, everyone I know I have attached a song to, they just don’t know that…yet. And why the Beatles lyrics? The Beatles was the one band from the beginning we all agreed on, could sing along with… together…
So that was my haunted tale. well most of it, I don’t want to bore you by going on and on. And it’s okay not to believe it all, the floating probably sounded insane, I’m just happy to have it out there and over with. I’ve purged out my childhood…I’m truly free…
And in the end, the love you made was equal to the love…you gave
copyright © August 2019, property of Bigfootmountain and Sasysquatchgirl. All rights reserved.
Song quotes from The Beatles
All pictures of the house were taken by me and reflects how it looks as of today, August 19, 2019