Your True
Tales
May 2003 –
Page 25
Poltergeist
Borrower
by Julie L.
I live in a very old house, about 130 years old. It's a very run-down rustic cabin sort of place, very quaint, and very small. When I bought it nearly two years ago, it still had a wood cookstove in the kitchen, and learned from the children of the owners that the house didn't have indoor plumbing until the early 60's. (And how grateful I am for the lovely clawfoot tub!)
I moved here after divorcing, and my eldest daughter was nearly 18 then and elected to live with me. My son stayed with his father to be closer to his friends, and stay in the same school.
How I got this house was weird and wonderful in itself. An appraiser friend did a search in our county, in a certain price range. This place came up, though why we never figured, since it is in the next county to the east. And it was at the upper limit of my price range. Because of this, I was reluctant to look at it, especially in light of the fact that the minute I read the flyer, I exclaimed, "That's it! It's perfect!"
Finally, two weeks later, and armed with 15 flyers of places to look at, my daughter and I decided to drive out to this little place first, just a drive-by. We drove in the driveway, shaded by an enormous box elder, took one look at the house , looked at each other grinning like idiots, and said, "This is it, it's home."
Practicality demanded we keep looking, and look we did. We spent the next two days driving all over hell's half acre, looking at places. Some were utter dumps with NO character at all, others were very nice, but we kept comparing everything to this little place.
Finally, I bit the bullet, and made an offer. The family had listed the place nearly two years before (after the death of their parents two and seven years before) and knowing what I know about houses and financing, it didn't take take long to figure out a bank would NEVER loan a cent on the place. I offered cash, and told the realtor to be sure to mention I wasn't going to do any major changes to the place, it would remain pretty much as is, with only repairs and clean-up.
Needless to say, I got the place, and for a lot less than what they were asking. I was thrilled! And had a LOT of hard work ahead of me.
My daughter and I got the keys and spent five days cleaning before moving anything in. We slept on the floor in sleeping bags, kept awake all night by the mice that overran the place. We set traps, and hoped the elderly cat, Sally, that came with the place would kill a few when we weren't around. (She was very skittish back then.)
Eventually, we got settled. We started working outside in the yard for the most part, pulling weeds, hauling brush and digging out the overgrown pond. That first summer I worked 16 hours a day, and slept hard at night, happy with my labors.
My daughter and I are both very open-minded people, and neither of us are afraid of ghosts or other things we don't understand. We actually hoped the place might be haunted (I had even asked the son if either of his parents had passed away here, but he said they hadn't), and so when we saw things, or heard things, we both pretty much passed it off as figments of our imaginations. But some things were just too hard to ignore.
One evening my daughter took her dog for a walk. She went into the schoolyard which borders our property, and was about 200 yards from the house, to the southwest. I was here in the house, alone, and began hearing fairly loud violin music. Going to the door, which faces south, I figured it came from our neighbors to the south, directly across from the school. I thought they had friends over for a jam session, or something like that. It sounded like that, not recorded music at all.
When my daughter returned, I asked her about it. And she hadn't heard a thing!
Over the past two years many people have heard or seen things here. Music, like an old-time radio, comes from everywhere at times. Footsteps in the living room, a strange loud chiming which we've never been able to duplicate or explain. People talking when there is no one here. (In fact, one night two men were talking so loudly in my bedroom, the person I was talking with on the phone asked me who was here!)
My son, who is a little frightened by the goings-on around here, has several times seen a tall old woman, and a tall young blond woman, mostly in the living room, or the kitchen. Once he thought the blond was his sister, and spoke to her, whereupon she vanished, freaking him out pretty badly.
My daughter and I, living here constantly those first several months were hearing things we didn't realize at first we shouldn't be hearing - ordinary noises easily overlooked. It took us nearly two weeks to figure out that the person we heard reading our books left on the kitchen table was not us! She thought it was me, I thought it was her!
Same thing for drawers and doors opening, and the fruit in the fruit bowl being picked over, though one night a visiting friend who was sleeping on the couch had a little run in that convinced him I wasn't just pulling his leg!
I had told him about the music, the sightings, the voices, and the books being read. Later, after visiting until late, he began digging through my books. I asked him why, and he said he was looking for a book to leave on the table for the ghosts. He was very skeptical about all I had told him, and wanted to prove me wrong. I laughed, and let him leave a book out. I went to bed.
About 4 a.m., he comes barging into my room, white-faced and shaking. "Scoot over! There's a ghost out there!"
Seems he was woken by someone walking into the bathroom (which is off the living room, there are no hallways in this house). He assumed it was me. Then "I" came out, and went into the kitchen, where he heard "me" sort through the fruit bowl. He said he plainly heard the fruit in the bowl, as if someone were picking up each piece, then putting it back. He waited, then realized no one came back out of the kitchen. So he got up and looked, and no one was there!
It was about this time I had my first real episode with the poltergeist. Up 'til this, I could always pass it off as forgetfulness, or someone else moving something. My daughter had moved out, and I was here alone all the time. One morning after I got up, brushed my teeth, drank some coffee, I went looking for my pack of smokes. I couldn't find them anywhere. I remembered I had smoked one the night before, while soaking in the tub, so I looked in the bathroom several times. I searched to whole house, all 864 square feet of it. I was highly perplexed. This is a tiny house, with no closets, no hallways, no dark hidey holes. I keep the place well picked up, otherwise it's like an obstacle course in here. That pack of cigarettes had disappeared!
I finally gave up my search, got online and checked email, etc. I went outside, did my chores, eventually came back in to go to the bathroom. When I went in, I stopped in utter shock. The cigarettes, and the lighter were sitting in the bathroom sink! There is no way I could have missed them before. I had brushed my teeth, for God's sake!
Stuff like this has happened to me several times. I have gotten to the point where I don't pay it much attention anymore. But now I am wondering if this isn't why it's gotten worse.
Several weeks ago, my fiancé, who moved in here last August, came to me asking if I had seen his sunglasses. Either pair. He couldn't find them. Normally he, or I, put them on the shelf in the kitchen, in front of the cookie jar. We looked there, and all the other places he might put them. No luck. My son, who moved in with us in February this year, hadn't seen them either, and promised to look for them too. After several days, I told my fiancé, "Don't worry, the poltergeist took them. He'll bring them back." He laughed and kept looking.
About three days later he came to me, thanking me for finding his sunglasses. "What are you talking about," I asked. "I didn't find them. Where were they?"
He looked at me funny, and said, "Right on the shelf, by the cookie jar. Where did you find them?"
"I didn't," I told him, "Maybe Mark (my son) did. We'll ask him when he gets home from school."
Well, Mark hadn't found them either! And the other pair had shown up at the same time. They were hanging on the curtain rod over the kitchen sink - something none of us has EVER done.
I told Alan (my fiancé), "I told you he'd bring them back," and got a dirty look. But it gets weirder.
A couple weeks ago, Alan's little step ladder went missing. He had been using it to work on my 4x4, and it had sat in front of the truck for 4-5 days. When next he needed it, it was gone. We looked everywhere for it. The next day, he asked me where the lid to the feed barrel was. It seems one of the three was missing. I told him it was missing when I did chores the morning before, and thought he'd put it somewhere. He said he hadn't, and the search was on.
We asked Mark about both things. He hadn't seen either, but offered a couple suggestions, which we assured him had already been taken into consideration.
Monday this week, I went out to let the dog out of his house, and feed him. When I turned around, there sat the ladder, right in front of the truck! I laughed, and called to Alan, who was getting grain for the horses.
"Alan, come here! It's back!"
He came up and looked. "Julie, it wasn't there yesterday." To which I agreed, especially since he had driven the truck while I had been gone, and I came home before him. The ladder had not been there when the truck wasn't. And weirder still is that Alan hadn't parked the truck in the same spot. It was about six feet further up the hill than where it had been when the ladder went missing. I laughed and asked him if the lid to the feed barrel was back yet. And he said no.
This morning, (Friday) when I walked outside to let the dog out, Alan called from the lean-to where we keep the grain. "Guess what, Julie.... It's back!" And sure enough, it is!
So, these past incidences have really pointed out to us just how much we don't know about the world in which we live. I can't help but wonder how many people don't even notice things like this when they happen. These days people are far too hurried and stressed to pay attention to things like this. But Alan and I, and my kids all take the time to smell the roses, and wonder what the poltergeist will borrow next!
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