Something is afoot here at the old homestead. Something that goes thump in the night, and thump (with evidence) in the day.
Friday afternoon, I was having a conversation with Genius, who was standing by the open stairwell leading to the basement. The Pony laid on the basement couch, watching TV and playing a game on his laptop. Genius and I heard a thump. He immediately called to The Pony, "What did you break?"
The Pony replied, "Huh?" Upon re-accusation, he said, "I didn't break anything. I'm playing a game."
Genius and I made a feeble attempt to discern the location of the commotion. "It came from the basement, or the porch, or your room." Genius scoffed that since he was here, in the living room with me, how could it possibly be coming from his room? That's why he's a genius. We both felt that The Pony must have knocked something off the basement coffee table, and was not admitting it. Until I remembered that I made him clean everything off that coffee table last week.
A few minutes later, Genius tired of our banter, and went into his room to play Black Ops on his X-Box. I went about my chores and thought nothing more about the thump. The evening progressed, Genius left to spend the night with a friend, The Pony and Hick went to bed, and I remained up to watch TV in the basement.
Around 2:00 a.m., I heard a loud THUMP over my head. My subconscious told me it must be Genius getting out of bed. Or perhaps he'd knocked something off his nightstand while fiddling with his precious phone. Except that Genius was not home. I listened for footsteps from The Pony's room, which would signal that he was in the hallway by the bedroom door of Genius, and the bathroom. No footsteps.
Saturday evening, as The Pony and I watched Expedition Impossible around 8:20 p.m., we heard the thump. Hick was away at an auction. Genius had been asleep in his bed since 6:00, recovering from his sleepover. In fact, he did not arise to go to bed until 11:00 p.m. And I heard the major THUMP again after midnight. I mentioned it to him this morning, before he left for Nerd Camp.
"I was not up at midnight. I was exhausted. I took my medicine and went right back to bed. The Pony told me he heard something up here while I was gone. Oh, and remember when we accused him of breaking something? I went in my room to play Black Ops and found three boxes of a fiber optic kit on the floor. I haven't touched them in years. They were in my closet on top of a sealed container. Not even stacked. They were laying level, and they're the only thing that came out. It's creepy."
We'll see what goes thump tonight while Genius is away. Our house, which we built ourselves back in 1997, is no stranger to strange goings-on. It has experienced a 24-hour period of constant popping and cracking, received four or more hang-up phone calls per day, turned up a baby binky out of thin air, provided us with a plethora of dimes and pennies over a two-week period, exhibited a toppled-pile-of-magazines sound three times in one morning, given me random whiffs of pipe tobacco and bacon, evidenced footsteps walking between the kitchen and The Pony's bedroom, permitted someone or something to tap me on the neck three times, hosted a room five degrees colder that the rest of the house, no matter what the season, made a light bulb go off numerous nights right after an eerie neck-hair raising atmosphere invaded the room, given off sounds of the kitchen door opening and closing, actually opened the kitchen door with nobody there, made us hear peeing and a flushing toilet with nobody there, showed Genius a small, white form twice in his doorway, and, the piece de resistance...allowed a headless man to appear before me next to the TV. That is just so very wrong.
Scoff if you will. But the only thing I had ever experienced anywhere else was the sound of upstairs walking. That was at my parents home, which they built themselves in 1970, located across the road from a cemetery. A cemetery with the same name as our surname. Unrelated. With none of our relatives buried there.