The House on Rivermet (part 2)
For the next several days, different items continued to disappear. Now I want to make sure I’m very clear about these so-called disappearances. We could be sitting at the table eating, put down a fork or spoon, reach to pick it back up--and it would be gone. I realize this does happen from time to time. Especially when there’s a 3 year-old around. However, when it is occurring during every meal, and you can’t find the utensil on the floor or stuck in the high chair, it’s a bit unnerving. In addition to the silverware, shoes, clothing, and other things would go missing too.
Our visitor (and by that time I was certain we had an unseen visitor) seemed particularly fond of my makeup. But it only messed with it, while I was putting it on. If I put down an eye shadow, and went to check on the children, it would be gone when I returned.
Except for the man in the window, most of the activities seemed playful and childlike. At times I nearly convinced myself that it must be the ghost of a youngster playing pranks. Other times, it was difficult to live in that delusion. The overwhelming feeling of dread and fear that emanated from the bedroom could be completely debilitating.
The feelings weren’t subtle and came on quickly. I could walk by the bedroom door 10 times and feel nothing. The eleventh time? It would hit me full force, stopping me in my tracks. Almost like I’d ran into a tractor beam or force field. In an instant, I’d be freezing and paralyzed with fear. My racing heart would thud against my chest so hard it was actually physically painful. It only lasted a few seconds, but that was long enough to scare the crap out of me.
On Friday, we’d lived there two weeks. By then, our ghost had added something new to his bag of tricks. From time to time, no matter which room I was in, I would see this white mist in my peripheral vision. As soon as I’d realize it was there, I’d turn to look and it would be gone. I got smart after awhile. I stopped looking head on and would watch it from the corner of my eye. The mist itself was nearly transparent. Almost like a sphere shaped cloud of smoke, it hovered about a foot from the floor and reached nearly to the ceiling. As long as I didn’t look at it directly, it would stay for several minutes at a time. Floating in and out of my blind spot as if it were trying to get my attention.
Friday night we decided to get out and have some fun. My nerves were jangled and my husband was sick of hearing me gripe about the haunted house. It’s not that he didn’t believe me, he saw the mist too. He was there when things disappeared. He just didn’t believe there was anything to be afraid of. And if it weren’t for that occasional heart pounding fear, I’d have agreed with him.
We took the kids to his parents for the night and went out on the town.
The next morning, he was working on the bathroom floor. I walked up to the door to ask him a few questions. He started to answer me and abruptly stopped talking. His eyes locked on something over my shoulder and his jaw dropped.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked.
He didn’t say a word, but all the color drained from his face.
I spun around to see what he was looking at. A tall shadow, shaped like a man, paced along the kitchen wall. I gasped and the shadow stopped and turned to face me. It looked as if it were staring right at me. Within seconds it took off and went down the wall disappearing into the pantry.
Both of us were silent for a moment. “Did you see that?” he finally asked.
“I told you.”
“I know. But did you SEE that?”
“Yes, I saw it. This house is haunted!”
He shook his head and pulled himself to a standing position. “Now honey,” he said. “Don’t get all freaked out. It’s just a ghost. They can’t hurt you.”
But he was very wrong. Very very wrong.