The Man in the Black Top Hat

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The Man in the Black Top Hat Page 13

by Ju Ephraime


  When I told my mother what I was doing, she just stood there looking at me strangely.

  “What’s the matter, Mom?” I asked her.

  “Nothing is the matter, but don’t you think you should get rid of this hat before you bring John back into the house?” she asked.

  “I tried to take the hat out, but I had a very bad experience, which I do not want to repeat. The girls will stay with you and Dad, and I’ll keep John downstairs while he recovers. That will buy me some time to find a way out of this.”

  I did not want to admit to her I was deathly afraid of the hat. I feared it would harm me, and my family if I tried to throw it away. I believed the ghost in the hat was too strong to be destroyed by placing it in the trash. What would stop it from making its way back here again? I was convinced I had to dispose of it where the ghost could be contained. I just did not know where, nor how, to go about doing this yet.

  “Okay, Syria, if you think that’s best. After all, it’s your home, and you’re the one who brought that ghost into your home. No doubt, you’re the best person to remove it.”

  “I will take care of this, Mom.” I’m going to donate the hat to the church auction, but in the meantime, I have to get John out of the hospital and keep him away from the rooms upstairs. Given the circumstances, that’s the best I can do.”

  True to his promise, Tim completed the work for me by 12:30 p.m. the next day, and the room was set up for John to move into. He had even painted it the night before. It did cost me five hundred dollars, but to me, it was well worth it not to have to worry about John being alone upstairs. Making this decision, together with the fact that I had not had any sexual interactions with the entity since John’s attack, I realized I was almost back to full functionality, as I used to be before this whole terrible thing started.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  John was surprised to find out he was not going to be upstairs in our bedroom. He did not question me and took all my rearrangement of our home in stride. The move from the hospital had left him feeling a bit stressed, because even though he was making great strides in his recovery, he was still far from his full strength. So I was able to get away with making him believe the change was for his benefit, which in a way, it was.

  I did not take anything from upstairs. I went to the store and bought two weeks’ supply of clothes and toiletries for John and me, and I went about setting up our new quarters downstairs. If John was curious as to why he had only new pajamas and none of his things from upstairs, he did not question me, for which I was grateful. I had no idea what explanation I would have given to him had he asked.

  I was able to go throughout the house with no problem, but the moment I came within walking distance of the stairs, I could feel the pull. So, to avoid any recurrence of my last fight with the entity, I did not even spend time in the kitchen other than to prepare breakfast. Most of our meals were delivered, and I was happy about that. It left me with more free time to spend with John. The girls and my parents came by every day, and John grew stronger. I was almost out of time to get the hat out of the house.

  I sat next to John, racking my brain to find a solution to this hat and the ghost situation. I’d been thinking so deeply that I did not realize John had been talking to me and I had not responded to two of his questions.

  “Syria, where did you go?” he was asking me.

  “What do you mean?” I responded.

  “I’ve been talking and calling your name for a good minute, and it was like you weren’t there.”

  “What did you want?”

  “I was asking when, we’ll be moving back upstairs. I miss our bedroom.”

  “I guess as soon as your doctor says you’re strong enough. We’re going to see him next week.”

  “I don’t need the doctor to tell me if and when I’m strong enough. I’m beginning to feel like my old self. When I see him, I’ll ask how soon I can return to work.”

  “Do you think that’s wise, John?” I asked him.

  “I can’t stay in this bed indefinitely, much as I would love to. I have my family to take care of and my job.”

  “Why don’t we wait until we see the doctor on Monday? That’s only three days away. How’s that?”

  “Oh, okay, I guess,” he responded.

  John was better and chomping at the bit to get back to work. He was not a man who could remain idle for long, which was why he worked such long hours at his job.

  My parents and the girls arrived ten minutes later for their daily visit with John. My mom always brought dinner for John and me when she came over. We were all sitting in the dining room when it occurred to me that now was as good a time as any to make the trip upstairs to get the hat.

  It was still early in the afternoon, and the church was open for afternoon prayer. They accepted donations any time of day. As the thought took root, I practically bubbled over with excitement. I felt as if I had been given a new lease on life.

  “Girls,” I said, “how would you like to go shopping with me? I need to pick up a few items from the store. We could leave your grandparents here with your father and be back in a couple of hours. John, would you make a list of the things you need so that I could pick them up at the same time?”

  I had not asked my parents, but I knew they would not object. My mother was always offering to give me a respite to leave the house for a bit. I never took her up on the offer because I was adamantly against leaving my parents alone in the house with the ghost.

  “Yes, yes, Mama,” the girls agreed. They welcomed any excuse to go shopping. I hurried into my temporary bedroom to change clothes. When the girls went up to their rooms to freshen up, I followed them. I had been able to keep them from going upstairs under one pretext or another, but today, they had moved faster than me because I was changing.

  I had a good feeling about donating the hat. I hoped the church would keep it and pray the spirit out of it, but I was not too concerned about that. I just wanted the hat out of my home today.

  I stood in the corridor feeling foolish while I waited for the girls.

  “Girls, please hurry,” I called out to them.

  They rushed out of their rooms and raced down the stairs and out the front door. They were always racing to sit in the front seat.

  I would only touch the hat when I was ready to walk out the door. I wanted the girls outside before I took it down from the armoire. I also did not want John anywhere near me while I handled it. I would no longer underestimate the power of this entity.

  As the front door slammed shut after the girls, I grabbed the hat and, holding it away from me, I ran outside as if demons from hell pursued me.

  In my haste, I had forgotten John was supposed to be putting together a list for me until I saw him standing in the doorway, holding it in his hand. I threw the hat down on the ground, raced back to him to grab the list, then turned to race back to the car.

  “My, you sure are excited to be going shopping,” he said, grinning.

  “What?” I had completely forgotten that was where I was supposed to be going. How, one lie spun into another.

  “Sweetheart, where are you going with your top hat?” he asked.

  “Oh, I am donating it to the auction at the church.”

  “Why?” he asked, “I thought you loved that hat.”

  “Oh, I love the hat, but I believe it would be better off at the church.”

  “If you say so,” he responded, watching me with a smile on his face.

  “What are you smiling at?” I asked.

  “You. All of a sudden, you’re acting like your old self again, and I just realized how much I had missed it, missed you. You know what I mean.”

  I was grinning from ear to ear. I blew him a kiss while my daughters sat in the car rolling their eyes at how ridiculous we were. They had no idea how close they had come to being in a totally different situation. I had no intention of enlightening them; I was too full of shame.

  I did not want to put the h
at in my car. Who knew what events I might set in motion by bringing the hat into the car with my daughters, but I did not know how to avoid it when they were sitting in the vehicle expecting me to take the driver’s seat.

  “You know, girls, I feel so good, I believe I’ll jog the three blocks to the church. I think it’ll be good for me after being cooped up in the house for so many months.”

  So I took off running before Kelsey got it into her head to accompany me. She and I used to run around the neighborhood in my more active days, which I had not done in a very long while.

  The three blocks to the church was hard on me after not being physically active in so long. I had to talk myself into keeping up the pace. Although several times I was tempted to slow down to a rapid walk, the only thing that kept me going was the thought that the quicker I disposed of the hat, the sooner my life would return to normal.

  The door to the church was open to accept donations when I arrived there. I was so thankful; I almost collapsed with gratitude.

  Several older people carried donations. They greeted me as I walked by, but just as I was about to walk through the door, a young couple came out. They stood out among the older people, mostly women. As I drew abreast of the young couple, a force pulled me toward the woman as I tried to move past her. It was almost a battle. The physical power in the hat prevented me from moving out of the way to allow the young woman to get by. Evidently, the ghost sensed a kindred spirit in the young woman. It did not want her to leave without it. Knowing what the ghost was capable of, I kept fighting like a drunken woman struggling to maintain her balance. Just as I began to feel faint from the struggle, I heard the voice of Father Barthelme bidding me welcome.

  “Father,” I began, “I would like to donate this hat, but I wanted to deliver it into your hands myself. This is a very unusual hat. Please keep it in the church if you’re not able to sell it. I believe it belongs in here.”

  “What is so special about this hat, my daughter?” he asked.

  “Let me just say, Father, it has a life of its own.”

  “Is that so?” he replied. “Let me see this unusual hat.”

  I handed it to him. The moment Father Barthelme closed his hand on the hat, a strong wind came out of nowhere and tried to rip the hat out of his hand, but he held on tightly until the wind rushed outside with the same force with which it had entered the church.

  I felt as if a load had been lifted off my shoulders when I handed the hat to the priest. Just as I was walking out into the sunlight, Father John, one of the other priests who’d been receiving donations, must have sensed something because he stopped me.

  “Why are you so breathless, my daughter? There’s no need to fret. We will take care of whatever you had to donate. Thank you and God bless.”

  There was a lot of guilt in me for leaving the hat here, but I was convinced that the church was a much better place than my home. I debated on whether or not to tell the priest about the history of the hat. In the end, I decided against it. I did not want the priest to reject the hat.

  I was also convinced that, had I not taken the hat into my home in such a willing and excited manner, the ghost would not have felt so welcome in my home. Nonetheless, I prayed that no one would bid on it, and it was left to make its home in the church. This was an evil hat, and it belonged in the church where I was certain some of its powers would be diminished.

  That I survived this harrowing experience had me baffled. The love and respect which my family and I had for each other kept them safe, and kept me from succumbing to the entity that had invaded my home.

  If I were to tell anyone that a hat almost ruined my marriage and my relationship with my daughters, they would no doubt think I was certifiable. But more than that, when I heard Kelsey’s account of seeing the hat all over the house, I was equally convinced that it had tried to entice her to touch it so that it could have taken control of her, just as it had taken control of me. Fortunately, she was still at an age to listen and follow directives. Otherwise, the outcome of this situation could’ve been completely different. That, I believe was the only thing that saved her—her willingness to obey me in anything I said, even if it might have seemed odd to her at the time.

  But on the flip side of this, maybe certain people have a predisposition to other worldly entities. Who knows?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I jogged back home, feeling on top of the world. I had not been this light-hearted in months. I had been given a second chance at my marriage, and I intended to make every second count. Tonight, I did not have to wait up for John, but I would pretend I did. I intended to make up for all those nights when he had asked me to wait up but I couldn’t because I was under the spell of that ghost. Tonight, I would show my husband just how much I loved and honored him. Tonight, I would be once again his Amazon woman – I’ll ride him into the sunrise.

  I joined the girls in the car, and we spent the day antiquing. The atmosphere in the car was happy and carefree. We began talking and laughing like we used to. I’d missed those bonding times with my girls. They’ll soon be gone and I won’t be able to recapture those fun-filled days. I’d better make the most of these precious moments. I was eternally grateful my girls were safe and sound, unscathed by my experience. I was excited to be doing something that gave me so much pleasure -- going antiquing, without a care in the world. I will take it slowly, but just going occasionally was a start.

  However, although I was almost back to my old self, I still had a ways to go. The entire experience left me with some nervousness about antiquing. I had become so overly cautious that I did not buy anything that day. I was now leery about anything antique. For now, I decided to just admire the items in the store. I did not want to second-guess everything I bought.

  My love for antiquing had not in any way diminished, and in time, I would get back into it again, but after the man in the black top hat, I’d had enough excitement to last a while.

  For now, I had to return home and try to make it up to my beloved husband. I still felt terrible about not confiding in him, but I was more convinced than ever that I did the right thing. Maybe one day I will tell him about it.

  He had recovered completely and was back to full strength. He never talked about what had happened in the shower that day, but sometimes, I’ve caught him looking at me strangely. But when I look into his eyes and smile, all the love I have for him feels ready to explode out of me. It seems to reassure him because he reaches for me and brings me into the circle of his embrace.

  After our ordeal, we constantly touched and felt each other, so much so that my girls had gotten into the habit of saying, “Get a room,” and we would laugh and hug each other tighter. They had no concept how close they came to losing me, and their father, the love of my life.

  We put a system in place where we went away once a month and we vowed to keep it up until we were no longer able to drive ourselves. John knew that something or someone had almost destroyed our idyllic life, but we had gone through it together and come out of it better and stronger than before. The experience made us more aware of each other, and never again did we take each other for granted. John had always been very patient and understanding with me. Only now, it was more noticeable.

  He did not complain when I insisted he remain in the bathroom while I took a tub. In fact, he used that opportunity to have his way with me. It was our own special joke. Although, I hated to admit, I sometimes missed my old habits. Taking a tub used to be my favorite time to relax. I would play my music as loud as I pleased, take a glass of my favorite wine and my favorite book, and remain in the tub until the water had gone cold. Sometimes, I would replenish the bath with hot water just so I could stay longer.

  This was no more. I would never take a tub the same way again. The man in the black top hat had ruined one of my favorite pastimes—soaking in my tub. He almost ruined my other favorite pastime—making love to my husband. There was no denying that an invisible man is a tough act to follow.


  Not that I wanted John to be like him.

  EPILOGUE

  It’s been six months since I donated the Black Top Hat to the church. I still feel very bad about unloading it onto the church, but what was I to do? Everything I had learned in my research said that you cannot bury a ghost, burn or destroy a ghost, and since I had no other way of getting rid of it, the church seemed like the best choice. I still feel that way.

  This does not stop me from anxiously waiting every day to hear from the church, denouncing me for saddling them with this entity, but as of this writing, I have not heard anything. This does not mean I am free of the effect that hat had on my life. I am no longer blasé about ghosts and graveyards. I have developed a healthy respect for all things dead. I no longer stop in a cemetery; I avoid them at all cost.

  It has even affected my antiquing hobby because any antique I purchase, I try to find out who the previous owner was before I purchase it. If I cannot establish the previous owner’s identity, then I simply walk away without the item. It will not come into my home. This has seriously curtailed my activity. But I believe it’s worth it to keep me, and my family safe.

  I have not been able to feel safe in my bathroom, so it no longer dominates my life as it used to in the past. Now I go in for a tub or a shower and I make it as short as decently possible, no more dilly-dallying in the bathroom. I still feel the loss keenly. All my adult life, my bathroom was my sanctuary. I used to spend time with my favorite book in there, but not anymore. By far, the biggest change for me is the change in my sexual needs and desires. Prior to my episodes with the entity, one orgasm a night was enough for me, but now I have the capacity and a need for more. John is able to keep up with me; with no problem, he’s proven to be a real trooper. His explanation was this was a side of me he had never seen before, didn’t know it existed, and sometimes he felt as though he had a stranger in his arms, but he found it strangely compelling and arousing. So in a perverted way, the entity has given my sex life a powerful boost, and because of this, I am not complaining.

 

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