|
|
THE WINDOW ....the great ghost story write-offJun 26 '04 (Updated Jul 13 '04) Write an essay on this topic.
Popular Products in Books
The Bottom Line Last time I tried to write this story, this file corrupted itself and crashed my computer. It was the only file that became corrupt. Strange, huh?
The Window © 1995, Margaret A. Brennan The leaves on the trees blended in a beautiful mixture of yellow, red and orange colors that offered a most breath-taking sight on that first warm, autumn day when I moved into my new home. At that time, my sons, Ken (who turned three only a few weeks before) and Jim (whose second birthday would follow in November) played happily in the backyard with our dog, a medium-sized but very protective mix of collie and shepherd. Finally out of my parents house and in my own home with my own backyard made the day more wonderful and beautiful. That is, until realization struck me like a cold bucket of water being dumped on my head. As I carefully unpacked the dishes and placed them in the sink to wash before setting them in the cabinets, without warning, the six plates in my hands went flying to the other side of the room, crashing against the wall in a loud explosion of shattering glass. As the dishes flew through the air, I spun around like a top whose string had just been yanked with the full force equal to that of two or three strong men. I grabbed the counter top to steady myself and keep from falling. It was no use. I landed with a thud, squarely on my butt in the middle of the kitchen floor. My first thought as I grabbed the cabinet for support was that I was having a recurrence of the horrible migraine headaches that accompanied my pregnancies. They came suddenly and with such violence, I would actually lose my balance. My doctor put me on medication but once the pregnancies ended, so did the headaches. My husband left home the year before, so I knew I wasn’t pregnant and therefore, couldn’t account for my “spin” around the kitchen – especially when no massive pain my head followed and more importantly, because those dizzy spells in no way compared to this episode. After it was over, since I didn’t feel sick, I decided to wait a few days before calling the doctor. As it turned out, whatever happened, didn’t happen again. At least not in this way! Cautiously, I chose to ignore the whole thing. However, the “whole thing” wouldn’t be ignored for long. When I look back now, I wish I’d known what was happening; instead, in the beginning, I blamed my young, rambunctious sons, who were always into everything, for the broken cups, vases and whatever else either broke or got lost. But how could I have known? I wasn’t until I was in the house about six months that I realized the true magnitude of the situation. By the end of that time, I knew I had a serious problem and it wasn’t my children. What I didn’t know was what I could do about it. Through trial and error, I’d learn that, as time went on. One night, after I put my sons to bed, I decided to enjoy the peace and quiet. It had been the usual hectic day and all I wanted was to put off the housecleaning and laundry. Being a single mom was taking its toll and there were some nights when all I wanted was some quiet TV time. I also began feeling uneasy whenever I went into the basement. I felt as though the cold damp room held a thousand eyes that watched me constantly. Whenever I settled down to watch TV, my dog slept on the floor at my feet, as she did that night. Suddenly she sprang up and ran to the door leading the basement. It was the first time in the three years since I adopted her that I’d seen her growl and show her teeth. As quickly as she ran into the kitchen, she ran out and while shivering helplessly, curled her body around my feet and behind my legs. I hadn’t heard a sound but apparently, she did. I assumed it was something she heard outside and over reacted. After all, as I said, we’d been in the house only about six months. I pulled her on the couch next to me and tried to calm her down. That’s when the channel on the TV changed. My sons were asleep and I was alone in the house. At least I thought I was – after all, I saw no one else in the room. Remotes were not yet popular and my TV didn’t have one. Assuming nothing more than a power surge, I manually put the dial back to the station I watching. However, as soon as I sat down, it changed again. This happened about three or four times and I can tell you without a doubt, I was getting a bit concerned. Then just as quickly as it started, it stopped. I had no idea what happened. Or why! The night ended quietly and for the first time in the three years, as the dog continued to shiver, she slept on my bed. The next night was definitely laundry night. There was no choice in the matter. Disposable diapers hadn’t been invented yet and my supply of cloth ones was running low. After getting Ken and Jim to sleep, I carried the pails of dirty diapers down the stairs, turned on the washer, added the soap and bleach and as the agitator slowly began to turn, placed the first load of diapers inside. I found the basement unusually chilly that night and hurried to return to the warmth of the upstairs. As I put the last few diapers in the washer, the room suddenly became so cold, I could see my breath rise in the air before my very eyes. I felt a horrible, unbearable chill – accompanied with an over-powering feeling of complete and undeniable dread. A feeling so strong, I felt that if I didn’t run out of that room, I’d never leave it again. Now, I knew what was wrong with my house. It was haunted! That knowledge, however, wasn’t my biggest fear. My biggest fear was in the knowing that this was just the beginning. Chapter Two  |
| Read all comments (3)|Write your own comment |
