I had recently gotten divorced, and in March 1995 my daughter and I moved to a two-bedroom townhouse in a small town in South Carolina. The townhouse was like many townhouses: the living room, dining room, powder room and kitchen were on the first floor and the two bedrooms and bathroom were on the second floor. The master bedroom always seemed cold to me, but I didn’t think much of it.
Not long after we moved in, however, my daughter, who was six years old at the time, kept telling me that she felt someone watching her in her bedroom. I assured her that because the room was on the second floor, there was no way anyone could see in the windows. She said that someone was following behind her upstairs and she was always scared. I tried to calm her, saying there was no one there, thinking that this was her way of trying to get out of going to bed.
Poltergeist activity
After living in this apartment for a month, strange things began happening. For instance, I could not find my cold crème where I had left it on the bathroom sink. Or my makeup would inexplicably be placed in the hall closet on the top shelf... under the towels! Or the toilet would flush by itself. I even witnessed the handle moving when no one was near the toilet. The toilet flushing usually took place late at night and would wake me up.
And there were other things, including the sound of someone walking up and down the stairs late at night after we had gone to bed. At first I figured it could have been the people next door in the adjoining building. But my daughter did not like her room and would spend a few nights sleeping with me.
Before we moved into this apartment, the building manager said that they could never keep the apartment rented, that people would move in and then in a few months move right out or request another apartment. She had told me it was probably because of the location, being right by the woods. But now I suspected there was another reason.
One night while my daughter was away visiting her father, I finally had had enough of this activity. I simply called out, “I don’t know who you are and I don’t know what you want, but you are most welcome to live here... as long as you stop scaring me and my daughter. I am a Social Worker. I am alone and my nerves are on edge. So please, have some consideration.”
Now, between you and me, I didn’t really think this would work. I had just had enough. Well, it did work and for the next year we had peace... until...
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