Mystery of the Windowed Closet

by R. J. Bonett

  I quickly headed back down the stairs looking behind me as I went, making sure I wasn’t being followed. I tried getting comfortable in my sleeping bag again, but without much success. I thought about what Frank told me about the barn and the three instances I had yesterday and again today in the basement. My mind was racing, trying to piece it all together. I lit the lamp again just as a precaution- precaution to what? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Staring at the ceiling, I saw a spider making a web in the corner. Thinking about what I’d just experienced, it seemed like the right time of year for what transpired. Mysterious breezes crossing my face; spirits, spiders weaving webs, and scurrying across their silky creations in the basement. I thought, ‘It’s the right time of year for it- October.’ Eventually being tired from working all day, sleep came over me once again.

  I was happy to see the dawn and felt a little relieved with the sunlight flooding the room through the bare windows. Like a cleansing agent, it erased the darkness and things that go bump in the night, and the feeling that I wasn’t really wanted here. The lamp was almost out of fuel from being lit all night, and the odor of the burning dry wick was strong. Getting out of my sleeping bag I looked up the steps again. Should I go up and check out the closet with the window? No, I think I’ll pass until after breakfast. I was getting a little hungry and thought I would stop on the way to town and ask Frank a few questions.

  As I passed his house, I saw him at his garage, looking at a bulldozer he used for his business. I stopped and asked, “Frank, Think you want to go to breakfast with me?”

  Walking toward me wiping the grease from his hands with a dirty rag he replied, “

  “No, Ray. I really can’t, too busy. Besides, June and I had breakfast a little while ago.” Looking up making sure he wiped all the grease from his hands’ he said, “Speak of the devil. Here she comes now.”

  Jokingly I asked loud enough for her to hear, “Ok. Frank! What was that? Who’s the devil?”

  “Shhh! This is June comin.’ She’s my wife.”

  I got out of the car to introduce myself. “Pleased to meet you- I’m your new neighbor Ray.”

  She replied giving Frank an evil look, “I’m the devil he just told you about, the one that made his breakfast this morning and just might not make it tomorrow morning.”

  It didn’t take a long examination to understand they had a great sense of humor between them. June was short, about 5 feet tall, or a little more, wearing coveralls and a red plaid shirt with a red bandanna holding back her light brown hair. She didn’t look to be a person who would shy away from getting on a tractor if Frank for some reason wasn’t able.

  I grinned at her remark. Getting right to the point I asked, “Frank, did anyone in your family ever experience seeing any apparitions?”

  Bringing his attention back to me he asked, “Apparitions?”

  “Yeah, Ghosts.”

  He seemed bewildered at my question, staring at me for a few moments then looked at June inquisitively, as if he was taking a cue from her on whether to respond to my question. She seemed to have no objection to what I asked, and he began relating his sister’s troubles.

  “Well, just my sister Elizabeth. She used to have to spend almost the whole month of October with our aunt and uncle in town because of her experiences. Why?”

  “Can you tell me about them?” I responded with an urgency that seemed to unsettle them both.

  He raised the bill of his cap slightly settling it on the back of his head and thought for a moment.

  “Let me see now. It first started when she was about nine.”

  June helpfully interrupted. “I think she was younger than that.”

  “Well, maybe she was eight. I don’t rightly remember exactly. At first, mum and dad thought she was having hallucinations from some kind of a brain disorder, but after all the tests were negative, they decided to send her to my dad’s sister. My Aunt Ethel lives in town, and they thought the change of scenery might help.”

  “Did it?”

  “After she went, she didn’t seem to have a problem. She came back home in November, and everything was fine- we thought it was over. Well sir, come next October, it happened again. And they shipped her off to Aunt Ethel’s once more. In mid-November she came back, and everything was good again. October come the following year, the same thing. Hairs would rise up on the back of her neck. Something you could actually see, Scary!”

  When he said that, he identified exactly the same sensation I felt during my experience last night, and I waited for him to tell me what she saw.

  “How long did this go on?”

  “Well, this went on until she was- oh, about 15 or so, then it didn’t seem to bother her after that. Mum sort of thought it was her being a child and all, and just grew out of it.”

  I had to be careful here, because I really didn’t know these folks well enough yet to share what I thought I saw in the house. Instead, I asked, “Was anyone else in your family affected?”

  “No. Just her:”

  I decided to drop the questions. I didn’t want to walk into the Chatterbox next weekend and have the place suddenly go quiet, knowing I was the topic of conversation for the entire week, being labeled the kook who sees ghosts. I thanked Frank for his input then turned to June. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Devil__ err__ I mean June.”

  They both laughed as she gave Frank a poke in the ribs and a look of, ‘You’re going to be sitting on eggs this week. I’ll get even with you somehow.’

  As I got back in the car, I was wondering why they hadn’t asked me why I wanted to know about apparitions and left heading for town. En route I asked myself a few questions. Why, out of everyone in his family only his sister had the problem, and why only this time of year? I also wondered why I was going to be so gifted with something I could do without.

  The drive into town was as enjoyable as it was yesterday, with the window rolled down and the cool crisp air rushing in. ‘This was real,’ I thought. Not some ghostly woman gliding around my house.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the dry leaves on the road being stirred up into a swirl as I drove over them. They were in abundance, being shed from the many trees overhanging the roadway.

  The occasional whiff of hickory smoke seemed stronger than yesterday, escaping from smokehouses where farmers were preparing meats from animals they recently slaughtered. I thought, ‘After I move here, would I be able to buy some from one of the farmers, or would I have to learn how to do it myself?’ an interesting question.

  When I arrived at the restaurant, being Saturday, there was more of a crowd than the day before. There were no tables available, so I took a seat at the counter and was promptly greeted by the waitress who had waited on me the day before. What was her name now? Oh, I remember! Ruthie.

  “Are you making any headway clearing out the place?” she asked as she passed me coming from the kitchen holding a tray.

  “Yes, I began taking up the old rugs and linoleum.”

  After she delivered the food tray she was carrying, she returned behind the counter. “I remember. You take regular coffee, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  After filling my coffee mug, she introduced the man sitting next to me.

  She said, “I don’t know whether you’ve already been introduced, but this is Dave. He lives just down the road from you a little piece. Dave, he’s the flatlander that just bought the farm down the road from you. You know, Wilber and Lena’s old place.”

  He smiled and said hello, extending his hand in friendship.

  Although we were seated, Dave looked to be in his mid 40s, with salt and pepper hair and well over 6’ feet tall.

  “Are you moving in?” he asked, taking a sip of his hot coffee.

  “No, I’ll only be coming up on weekends to work on the place.” pausing
for a moment, “Dave, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure!”

  Although the restaurant was busy, Ruthie stood there curious about the question I was about to ask.

  “Did you ever experience seeing a horse and buggy passing your farm?”

  He laughed, “I see them all the time. There are Amish carriages everywhere.”

  I told him about the one I saw the night I arrived, and how I was puzzled by the angry look on the driver’s face as he passed. When I said, “The angry look on the drivers face,” his laugh turned serious and I knew I struck something familiar. Why the change all of a sudden? Before I could ask, he repeated what must have been a familiar Halloween story amongst the townspeople replying,

  “I knew Frank’s sister had to move to her aunt’s here in town in October.” After taking another sip from his mug, he leaned toward me quietly saying, “One night when I was outside my barn, a horse and carriage passed me with a man that gave me an angry look like that. I thought he was Amish too, until one of the Amish men told me he couldn’t have been Amish if he was clean shaven.”

  “Why not:” I asked.

  “He explained to me that from the day Amish men marry, they don’t shave. If he was clean shaven, chances are he was a Quaker. I don’t know what else he could have been.”

  It felt good to talk to someone who experienced what I had, and the idea of it being in my imagination was finally laid to rest.

  “A man dressed in black knocked on my door last night. He was the same man that passed me the first night I arrived, giving me an angry look as he went by the barn in his coach. I thought he was Amish too, but he explained to me he was a Quaker.”

  Leaning toward me trying not to be overheard, he seemed to become genuinely interested asking, “You actually spoke to him?”

  “Yes, he knocked on my front door and seemed confused. He said the house and barn were different, but he was sure that where my house is, was where the house they were looking for was supposed to be.”

  Dave whispered, “Was there anyone else in the coach?”

  “There was a woman sitting beside him. She was expressionless, staring straight ahead the same as the night before.”

  We were both silent for a few seconds, then I asked. “Can you remember what time of year it was when it happened to you?”

  “It was in the fall,” looking around as if he was about to reveal a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear, “About this time of year, October:”

  After saying it, I noticed he seemed to be getting more uncomfortable in his seat as I related my story. It became obvious it was something he felt uncomfortable talking about.

  “I have to leave,” he said suddenly, taking a final gulp of coffee. “Nice talking to ya.”

  As Ruthie took my order, I realized Dave had not only skipped breakfast if it had been his intention, but his coffee mug was still half full and he didn’t pay his check. She looked at his empty stool, then back at me, wondering why, but didn’t say anything. I quickly ate my breakfast then quietly paid the tab for both of us. Saying goodbye to Ruthie, I put down the tip and left.

  I was beginning to wonder where all this would lead and maybe struck on the real reason the previous owner sold so soon after buying it.

  Chapter 6

  I returned to the house and began trying to do something temporarily to repair the shower curtain I tore when I slipped trying to avoid the hot water the night before. I was still struggling to understand what the room upstairs which I now thought of as a windowed closet, and what it had to do with the apparition I had seen last night. I put it off long enough. As I walked up the steps, I could feel a chill going up my spine once again and the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and wondered whether all the conversation about spirits, were playing tricks with my mind. I opened the door but there was nothing unusual, other than the room seemed a little cooler. No crying sound of a toddler or bolts of cloth leaning in the corner that a child could hide behind.

  The coolness of the room was the same description Frank gave me about the older side of the barn, and I thought I’d go across the road to see if I notice a difference. Entering the barn through the newer end, I slowly walked through to the older side. There were several soft spots in the floor where water seeping through the roof rotted the floor boards, and I had to be careful I didn’t step on one- falling through to the lower section. The ropes and hand forged hooks used for hoisting the bales of hay into stacks were still hanging from the high ceiling and neatly coiled around wooden pegs extending from the support beams. Bales of unused hay were carefully stacked in one corner, and a few were haphazardly scattered around the floor, the only remnants remaining that identified it as a dairy farm.

  As I passed the overhead beams that connected the two halves together, I noticed immediately. Yes! I’ll be damned, there is a difference! The wind was blowing through the spaces where barn boards were missing, but the temperature should have been equal and not different. Like opening the door to the closet with the window, the hairs on the back of my neck rose again. I ran my hand over my head to the back of my neck, trying to settle them down, but without success. No good, even the warmth of my hand couldn’t settle them down. This was crazy. I had to get out of there and couldn’t exit the barn fast enough. I thought, ‘Let me get out of here.’ After exiting, the hairs laid down by themselves, and I felt relieved.

  As I walked up the hill returning to the house, I stopped and looked back at the barn. I knew it was going to be torn down and that would eliminate one problem. The house was another matter, and I wondered whether I should do the same and assure myself both problems would be eliminated. I thought, ‘Before I make that decision, I’ll go through the house and make a mental note as to where the strongest feelings occur.’

  I began exploring each room beginning at the second floor. Something I didn’t feel when I originally went into the front bedroom changed. I was now feeling the hairs rising on my neck. The feelings weren’t as strong as the windowed closet but they were definitely there. I went to the basement again but didn’t feel anything. Walking through the rooms on the first floor, nothing! I tried concentrating on the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary there either, maybe it was only a malfunction of the plumbing.

  The whole thing had taken over my mind, and I was at a loss trying to piece it all together. What did the freaky windowed closet in the house, the barn and the mysterious horse and carriage have in common? I couldn’t understand but was determined to find out. If they were spirits that couldn’t find peace, I wanted to know why. And why it was always October that they were seen.

  After settling comfortably in my sleeping bag, I couldn’t put my mind to rest. I became suspicious of every sound, and my hearing suddenly became more acute. Unless I stopped imagining there was a threat with every noise, I realized I would never get to sleep. Several times during the night I awoke, and looked around just to make sure I was still alone before closing my eyes again. On one occasion I looked at my watch and saw it was only 3:30. Wait! Do I smell wood burning? I quickly unzipped my sleeping bag and sat up. The kerosene lamp wasn’t lit, and besides, it’s a completely different odor. This was definitely the smell of wood burning. After looking in the basement to assure myself there wasn’t a problem, I returned to my sleeping bag. I thought, ‘Maybe the wind is blowing smoke from someone’s wood burning stove. Wait a minute! The nearest neighbor is a quarter mile away. I know the house is modern and he would more than likely use oil for heating the same as me, so that couldn’t be it.’ Knowing it wasn’t something going on in the house I was satisfied, and fell back to asleep.

  After waking I quickly brushed my teeth. Knowing I had to leave early, I had already gathered my dirty laundry and placed it by the front door. After loading the car, I locked the front door and started back to the city. Driving down the hill I looked back and imagined my household of spirits, gathered at
the front window toasting my departure.

  Just before hitting the turnpike, I stopped for a coffee to go before heading south on the last leg of my journey.

  I relaxed and thought about my best friend Don and his wife Delores, and the talent she possesses. Hmmm- Possesses! Yes, possesses. That’s right, Delores is a psychic. Maybe she can cast some light on my problem. I wonder if they would take a trip up with me.

  My mind wandered back to how Don and Delores became my best friends. They met through a female friend of mine on a double date and have been married for the past seven years. I also stood as his best man for his wedding. My relationship with Don goes back even before he was married, when we were in the same class at night school. We were both taking the same business courses trying to increase our resume. After we graduated, we both acquired jobs at Keystone. After working there for several years, Don decided to take another job offer with another company, but we never lost contact with each other.

  Through spending so much time together, we realized we had a lot in common, pretty much sharing the same likes and dislikes. We enjoyed fishing, as well as going to baseball, and football games together.

  Don, more than me, was a more enthusiastic football fan and seldom missed going to a Philadelphia Eagles home game. We were season ticket holders. Every Sunday home game- rain, freezing temperatures and occasionally snow, we were present. Don would wear his Eagles hat and sweatshirt, and wear his throat raw, yelling at a bad call from the referees, or cheering a large gain in yardage. Sometimes, he would yell until his voice broke, and I’d have to calm him down, so people with seats around us could enjoy the game.

  Some of the fans around us were season ticket holders also, and like us, had the same seats every year. They were used to his outbursts and sometime were more interested in his reaction to a call than the game itself. They often goaded him, pretending to sympathize with a bad call from the referee, and that would only rile him a little more, especially if the Eagles weren’t performing well.