bottom stairs, knowing I was going to berate him for playing
where he shouldn’t be playing.
“ Elijah, you had
better not -.”
There was no
need to continue speaking.
There was no one
there.
I heard the
twenty-third step, my eyes noting the near-imperceptible bend of
the wooden plank. I knew how a step would give when weight was
applied to it and that was precisely what I was seeing. Someone was
standing upon the lowest stair.
Only, no one was
there.
The way to the
attic was clear.
I took an
investigative stride forward, my brow furled in
consternation. What was going
on?
There came a
creak. The wood flexed again. The weight had
disappeared.
~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~
Chapter Four: A
Growing Sense
Within a month,
things around the house began to turn evermore strange. Two
incidents occurred within a week of Halloween 1986, days apart. A
third happened two weeks later, leaving us wondering about our
deci sion to live atop the hill
on Lincoln Drive. Had it been a good idea after all?
The first two
weren’t really “single” events in the true sense of the word.
Rather, they were more like on-going acts. When I say they
happened, I mean they began to happen around that time, but I also
mean they never stopped until events came to a head more than a
year later. But alas, I am jumping ahead… far, far
ahead.
One night, a
Friday, after being out with my girl and some friends, I walked
through the front door, read the “good-night” note my mother had
left for me on the dining table, turned off the light and made my
way up to my room. I was worn out. The excitement and energy we’d
exuded in Old Town Pasadena had been epic. Dinner and a movie with
three other couples had been hellacious, a thousand laughs, lots of
food and snacks, and one heck of a good time.
I walked into my
room, shut the door quietly, not wanting to wake-up Elijah, who
could sometimes hear the vibrations of such things through the
walls. As light-footed as possible, I made for the
shower.
When I came out
with just a towel wrapped around me, I was scared shitless to see a
figure standing in the doorway. I yelped, almost dropping the only
item covering my privates.
Then, it
spoke.
I was
relieved.
“ Jerry, why did
you leave all the lights on downstairs?”
It was my
mother.
“ What?” I
inquired, cinching the towel more securely about my waist. “I
turned off the dining room light and made sure everything was
locked up tight.”
“ Then how come
every single light is blazing like the Fourth of July right
now?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know. I was taking a shower.”
She sighed. “In
the future, can you make sure to turn them off for me,
ok?”
I scowled, but
she couldn’t see it in the semi-dark of the room. I felt much like
my little brother had a while back when Valerie had falsely accused
him of stealing her beloved boots.
“ Jerry?” There
was that tone again.
“ Ok, mom, no
problem.”
She left without
another word. She must’ve been tired.
The following
morning at breakfast Valerie asked, “Which one of you inconsiderate
family members kept turning on the lights last night? I had to turn
them off twice.”
“ When?” asked my
mother.
“ I don’t know,
once around three-thirty and the other around
four-twenty.”
My mother and I
shared a concerned look. Our mini-confrontation had occurred hours
before the times Valerie had indicated.
“ That’s so
weird,” she commented.
“ What’s
‘weird’?” asked my sister.
“ Well, I had to
turn off the lights about an hour and a half before that,” replied
my Mom.
“ And, that was
after I had turned off the overhead in the dining room when I got
home,” I interjected, not about to waste the opportunity to explain
that I’d done my part when I returned the night before.
Eli was watching
the older members of his family, his head jerking to and fro like a
parakeet as he tried to keep up with the conversation.
My mother
shrugged.
where he shouldn’t be playing.
“ Elijah, you had
better not -.”
There was no
need to continue speaking.
There was no one
there.
I heard the
twenty-third step, my eyes noting the near-imperceptible bend of
the wooden plank. I knew how a step would give when weight was
applied to it and that was precisely what I was seeing. Someone was
standing upon the lowest stair.
Only, no one was
there.
The way to the
attic was clear.
I took an
investigative stride forward, my brow furled in
consternation. What was going
on?
There came a
creak. The wood flexed again. The weight had
disappeared.
~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~
Chapter Four: A
Growing Sense
Within a month,
things around the house began to turn evermore strange. Two
incidents occurred within a week of Halloween 1986, days apart. A
third happened two weeks later, leaving us wondering about our
deci sion to live atop the hill
on Lincoln Drive. Had it been a good idea after all?
The first two
weren’t really “single” events in the true sense of the word.
Rather, they were more like on-going acts. When I say they
happened, I mean they began to happen around that time, but I also
mean they never stopped until events came to a head more than a
year later. But alas, I am jumping ahead… far, far
ahead.
One night, a
Friday, after being out with my girl and some friends, I walked
through the front door, read the “good-night” note my mother had
left for me on the dining table, turned off the light and made my
way up to my room. I was worn out. The excitement and energy we’d
exuded in Old Town Pasadena had been epic. Dinner and a movie with
three other couples had been hellacious, a thousand laughs, lots of
food and snacks, and one heck of a good time.
I walked into my
room, shut the door quietly, not wanting to wake-up Elijah, who
could sometimes hear the vibrations of such things through the
walls. As light-footed as possible, I made for the
shower.
When I came out
with just a towel wrapped around me, I was scared shitless to see a
figure standing in the doorway. I yelped, almost dropping the only
item covering my privates.
Then, it
spoke.
I was
relieved.
“ Jerry, why did
you leave all the lights on downstairs?”
It was my
mother.
“ What?” I
inquired, cinching the towel more securely about my waist. “I
turned off the dining room light and made sure everything was
locked up tight.”
“ Then how come
every single light is blazing like the Fourth of July right
now?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know. I was taking a shower.”
She sighed. “In
the future, can you make sure to turn them off for me,
ok?”
I scowled, but
she couldn’t see it in the semi-dark of the room. I felt much like
my little brother had a while back when Valerie had falsely accused
him of stealing her beloved boots.
“ Jerry?” There
was that tone again.
“ Ok, mom, no
problem.”
She left without
another word. She must’ve been tired.
The following
morning at breakfast Valerie asked, “Which one of you inconsiderate
family members kept turning on the lights last night? I had to turn
them off twice.”
“ When?” asked my
mother.
“ I don’t know,
once around three-thirty and the other around
four-twenty.”
My mother and I
shared a concerned look. Our mini-confrontation had occurred hours
before the times Valerie had indicated.
“ That’s so
weird,” she commented.
“ What’s
‘weird’?” asked my sister.
“ Well, I had to
turn off the lights about an hour and a half before that,” replied
my Mom.
“ And, that was
after I had turned off the overhead in the dining room when I got
home,” I interjected, not about to waste the opportunity to explain
that I’d done my part when I returned the night before.
Eli was watching
the older members of his family, his head jerking to and fro like a
parakeet as he tried to keep up with the conversation.
My mother
shrugged.
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