Haunted

by Dorah L. Williams

  Kammie did not answer me, but I knew she would have had a clear view of the objects from the dining room window as it overlooked the back door and stairway landing. She remained unusually quiet as I tucked her into bed. I felt her forehead to see if her fever had risen and was glad to find that it had not. Still, she seemed pale, and I told her to get some rest.

  As I left the room I looked back at Kammie with some concern. I wondered if removing the items from her room had upset her even more than I had expected. The expression she wore was more frightened than sad, and I was not quite sure what to think.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked her from her doorway.

  Kammie nodded but did not look at me, and I assumed she was unhappy because I took away her things.

  “Sweetie, are you upset because we’re putting everything back?” I asked.

  “No,” Kammie said firmly. “I don’t want to see those things anymore.”

  That was an unexpected reply, but she had now closed her eyes. I left her to rest.

  The following day the children were all feeling much better, and Matt and Kammie were able to return to school for the last day of the week. The next morning, we were going out of town for the family reunion, and the children were very excited.

  That afternoon when they arrived home from school I asked Kammie if she wanted to show me the exact spot where the objects had been found in the backyard so we could put everything back in the ground. Although I had an idea as to where they had been found, having been called outside when the glass jar was discovered, I thought it might be important to Kammie to put them back herself.

  “I don’t think those things are there anymore,” Kammie said quietly.

  “Of course they are. Why wouldn’t they be? I told you I would wait until you could help me,” I reassured her.

  “I think that girl took them,” Kammie said.

  “What girl?” I asked, even though her response had raised the hair on the back of my neck. I had never mentioned the apparition of the young girl that I had seen in the master bedroom to the children. As I waited for Kammie’s reply, I hoped that she was talking about someone from the neighbourhood.

  “Yesterday, when I got out of bed, I wanted to see where you put those things. So I went downstairs, and as I was walking through the dining room, I saw a girl through the window. She was standing outside the back door, looking at the things you put on the railing,” she explained.

  I stared quietly at my daughter for a moment. What she was saying was logically impossible. The gate to our backyard was kept locked at all times, and if anyone had even approached it, Piper would have barked a warning as she did when passersby strolled along the front sidewalk. The only possible entry into our backyard was through the house and out the back door.

  “Why didn’t you tell me someone was there?” I asked, while I tried to make sense of what she was saying.

  “I thought you would be mad at me for getting out of bed and going downstairs when I was sick,” Kammie explained with her child’s logic.

  “What did the girl look like?” I asked.

  “She looked like she was playing dress-up in old fashioned clothes. She had blonde hair, and the front part of it was pulled into a big white bow at the back.”

  “How old was she?” I asked, feeling my knees starting to shake.

  “She was tall, but she didn’t look too old. I think she was maybe twelve or thirteen,” Kammie said.

  I remained quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say next.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do,” I assured her. “I do, I just want to know more about what she looked like so we can figure out who she was and how she got into our backyard. Have you ever seen her before?”

  She shook her head.

  “What colour was her dress?”

  “Purple. And she had another white dress over top of that one.”

  She had described the girl that I had seen. The colour and style of her hair, and even her clothing, were exactly the same.

  “What was she doing out there?” I asked, trying to get as much information out of Kammie as possible.

  “She was just standing there looking at the things you put on the railing. Remember that feather I had in the ink-well?” she asked me.

  I nodded. I had taken out the feather that Kammie had put in the ink-well when I had carried the items outside and took the photograph, but had then replaced it.

  “She kept poking at that feather with her finger,” Kammie told me.

  “Did she look at you?” I asked, realizing that Kammie had stood only a few feet away from the girl. I hoped she had not given my daughter the same look of irritation she had given me.

  “No, I don’t think she saw me at all. She just kept looking at the things and poking at the feather.”

  Again I fell silent.

  “I don’t think you believe me. I did see her, Mommy, honest!” my daughter swore.

  “I do believe you, sweetie,” I told her.

  “Are you sure?” Kammie asked, knowing the story sounded strange.

  “Yes, because I’ve seen that girl too,” I finally admitted to her.

  “You have? When? Did you see her when you came down to get me?” she asked.

  “No, I didn’t. But I saw a girl that looks exactly like the one you described in my bedroom a few nights ago,” I told her.

  “What was she doing?” Kammie asked with a mixture of excitement and relief. She seemed happy to know I believed her.

  “She was just watching Daddy sleeping,” I said simply. I had no intention of telling her about the look the girl had given me or the fear I had felt.

  Kammie seemed to find that funny, and giggled. I joined in with genuine laughter, remembering how I had almost done so when I had envisioned Ted’s reaction to waking up and seeing her looking down at him.

  “Who is she?” my daughter wanted to know.

  “I don’t know.” I answered, still smiling and trying to remain cheerful.

  “I bet she owns those things we found!” Kammie said, as though putting together an important puzzle piece.

  “I bet she does too,” I agreed.

  “Can we go and see if everything is still there?” Kammie asked.

  We went out the back door, and Kammie was happy to see that the jar, ink-well with feather, and button were exactly where I had placed them. No one had taken them after all.

  Kammie and I went down the stairs and into the backyard. I walked over to the shed to get the shovel I would need to dig in the hard-packed dirt. I knew from my gardening that the soil’s texture was almost like clay, and it would be difficult to dig deeply, but I was eager to bury the objects now that Kammie had also seen the girl’s spirit.

  “Mommy!” I heard my daughter call when I was inside the shed.

  “I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just getting the shovel,” I called back.

  “We don’t need a shovel,” she said.

  “We’ll need one to dig into that hard dirt,” I reminded her.

  “But they’ve already made a hole,” Kammie said.

  I came out of the shed when I heard that remark.

  “What do you mean?” I asked her.

  “Look,” said Kammie, pointing at the ground. “It looks like they pushed a hole right into the ground exactly where Stuart found those things. This is where they want us to put them back.”

  As I approached the spot where Kammie was standing, I could only gasp and stare at the hole beside her that had indeed been “pushed” into the hard ground. Piper was not prone to digging holes in the yard, and there were no claw marks to indicate that she might have taken the notion to dig that one. Nor was there a pile of removed earth beside the hole. Rather, it appeared as if the ground had been shoved in by some unknown force to a depth of many inches, making a hole exactly the size needed to bury the items.

  “Are you sure this is where Stuart found those things?” I asked,
trying to hide my shock.

  “Yes, I remember it was right here,” Kammie said, still looking at the hole. “How did they do that?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.

  I went to the top of the stairs and retrieved the items from the railing. I placed the jar in the bottom of the hole, with the button inside it. The ink-well went in next, with the feather by its side. Although it had not been found there, Kammie wanted to bury the feather because the girl she had seen poking at it seemed to like it. I then made several trips to the side garden for shovelfuls of loose soil to fill the hole. When everything was buried again, I returned the shovel to the shed. My daughter’s small hand reached out for mine, and together we walked back into the house.

  Some days later, Rosa and I were seated on the sofa in the living room reading a book together when Kammie and Matt returned from school and walked into the room to say hello.

  “What’s that?” Kammie asked me, pointing to the loveseat beside us. I looked over and saw an old piece of ribbon lying on a cushion. I assumed Rosa must had left it there earlier in the day, but when I picked it up, the material was stiff and brittle with age. As I looked at it more closely, I saw it was beautifully made with delicately woven golden threads. After determining that none of us had placed it on the cushion, I wondered if it were meant to be a small token of appreciation for our having put those items back in the ground. Kammie did not want it, but I appreciated it and used it as a bookmark for the journal I kept about our home.

  13

  THE WOMAN AT THE TREE

  The night after Kammie and I had buried the objects back in the ground, all was peaceful in our home for a change and we awoke feeling rested. I dared to hope that the strange disturbances we had experienced were over.

  Our weekend away at the family reunion was enjoyable and allowed us to forget about the house for awhile. When we returned, the house felt strangely empty of the strong presence I usually noticed upon entering it. I sensed a void in our home and was surprised not to feel comforted. I had hoped for the time when I no longer felt we were sharing our house. Now that whomever had been there appeared to have left, I was surprised to find that, although very relieved, I also felt a slight twinge of loss.

  Perhaps the haunting really was over, simply because we had reburied a few small objects in the yard.

  After unpacking and resting from our long trip, I went up to the attic and began to write an e-mail message to Rhonda. I told her of our apparent success in ridding the house of its paranormal presence and thanked her for her help in the matter.

  A few hours later, I received Rhonda’s reply. She was not as optimistic as I that the spirits were really gone for good simply because we had given those objects back. She had suggested we do that and still thought it would be of some help, but she did not think that act alone would be enough to send the entities entirely on their way. She hoped that everything would settle back to normal for my family. If that turned out not to be the case, though, I could feel free to contact her if I wanted Rhonda and one of her colleagues to make the trip to our home to do a more in-depth investigation.

  I dismissed her offer. Not only would it have been very costly for us, but I was confident that we finally had our house to ourselves.

  The following week two eldest children were back in school, and two of my friends came over for coffee one afternoon. Rosa sat beside me in the living room, facing our company and the foyer, while we chatted. Suddenly my little girl jumped a bit, as though startled. When I looked down at her, she smiled and nodded her head towards the hall. As the women continued to sip their coffee and talk about local events, Rosa and I watched as the foyer light turned itself off, then on, then off again, several times in a row. As I did not want my guests to be aware of that activity, I moved my seat over a bit, redirecting their gaze so that they would not detect the fluctuating light behind them with their peripheral vision.

  Rosa started to giggle, as she found the light’s activity quite amusing. Each time the light turned on, it would surprise her slightly and she would jump. Then she would chuckle with wonder when it turned itself off. When the women grew curious about what she found so entertaining out in the hallway, I decided it was time for her to go and play in the backyard.

  I felt frustrated rather than frightened by that occurrence. Rhonda had been right. Burying those objects in the backyard had not been enough to stop the haunting altogether. It had seemed to quiet things down for a while, but apparently not for long and obviously not for good.

  Several days later Kammie went over to a friend’s house to play. When Ted and I went to pick her up, we visited for a few minutes with the Mullens. Because Amanda Mullen and Kammie had been best friends since preschool, we knew Amanda’s parents, Beverly and Ray, fairly well. We stood outside and chatted with Beverly, who asked us how our trip to the reunion had been. We told her it had been wonderful.

  “We drove by your house while you were gone,” she mentioned. “I have to tell you about this really strange woman we saw on your front lawn.”

  I glanced over at Ted, who refused to acknowledge what she had said. He had made it clear to me that he did not want us to discuss our house’s haunting with anyone in town. He was concerned we would be ridiculed for something he himself had trouble believing or understanding.

  “What was she doing?” I asked casually.

  “Well, we knew you were away, so when I saw her standing on your lawn as we drove by, I had Ray stop the van in front of the house just to see why she was standing there and what she was doing. We pulled up right near where she stood, but she didn’t even seem to notice us. She just kept staring up at that huge weeping willow tree you have in your front yard.”

  “She was probably a neighbour,” Ted said.

  “No, I’m sure she wasn’t. I didn’t recognize her,” Beverly told him. The Mullens, who only lived a few blocks from us, were lifelong residents and knew most of the people in town.

  “What did she look like?” Ted asked her.

  “Really strange. She had on vintage clothing, and her hairstyle looked like it was from about a hundred years ago,” she told us.

  I looked at Ted, trying to read his thoughts. I did not think I should mention any of our experiences with the house, but I wanted Beverly to tell us more about the woman.

  “What colour was her hair?” I asked.

  “It was really blonde, almost white. And she was so tall, taller even than me,” Beverly said, holding her hand several inches above her own height of five feet and ten inches.

  “It must have just been a neighbour,” Ted said again.

  “Do you have any neighbours who dress like that? I’ve never seen any. And the weirdest part wasn’t even how she looked, but how she acted. We were parked only a few feet away from her, but she didn’t even turn her head to look at us. I don’t think she even realized we were there. She never took her eyes off of that tree,” Beverly said.

  Not wanting to hear any more about the mystery woman in our yard, Ted went into the house to talk to Beverly’s husband, Ray. After he left, Beverly looked at me quietly for a moment. “Have you ever met my sister, Dennise?” she finally asked me.

  I shook my head.

  “She’s psychic. No one else in my family really believes in that kind of stuff, but she’s made a believer out of me. She has this strong psychic ability, and she uses it all the time to help people.”

  I hesitated, not knowing what to say. I did not want to divulge too much about what we had been experiencing, but I was desperate to talk to someone like Dennise about our situation.

  “I think there was something really strange about that woman we saw,” she said again in a low voice. “I know this sounds weird, but I think maybe she was a spirit, or something like that, and she definitely seemed to be connected to your place.”

  I looked at Beverly and nodded my head. I could not bring myself to dismiss her account of what she had seen, and I wanted the opportunit
y to talk to Dennise. The spirit of the girl witnessed by both Kammie and I had been that of a thirteen-year-old, although her hair colour and clothing were similar to the woman Beverly had described. The “nurse” who had manifested in my bedroom had worn a headpiece and cloak, neither of which Beverly had mentioned. Perhaps what she had seen was another entity entirely.

  “Would you like me to ask my sister to visit your house the next time she’s in town? She could walk through it and tell you what she thinks,” Beverly offered.

  I quickly agreed. Although she lived fairly far away and would not be in town to visit for some time, Beverly promised she would discuss the matter with Dennise on the phone when they next spoke and let me know what was said. I felt very relieved. If there were so many spirits connected to our property, a psychic might be able to help us in dealing with them.

  14

  THE NEWSPAPERS

  I cleared up the kitchen after breakfast as Ted, Kammie, and Matt headed out the front door to work and to school. Little Rosa waved to them from the living room window, and when they were finally out of sight, she joined me in the kitchen. As I turned to greet her, I saw the foyer light begin to switch on and off. I watched it for a few seconds, shrugged my shoulders with exasperation, and continued to load up the dishwasher. Rosa did not even acknowledge the blinking light as she wandered back to the living room, with Piper close behind.

  It was a warm spring day, and the sun was streaming in through the windows of the kitchen and family room. I was just about to turn on the dishwasher when a pocket of cold, dense air passed right in front of me. I could actually feel it brush my nose, and I stood perfectly still, scarcely even breathing. The sensation passed within seconds, and the air around me reverted to normal room temperature. I was left standing in the warm kitchen with goose bumps all along my arms and legs and the tip of my nose still frigid.

  I rushed into the living room to check on Rosa but found her engrossed in the cartoon show she was watching on television. She looked up at me when I came into the room.