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.
6 comments:
You've given me serious goosebumps. I suppose if whatever is going bump in the night was out to hurt you, you'd know it by now. More like he/she/it just wants to co-exist. You don't seem afraid, just a tad rattled (I would have run screaming from the house by now). What do you think it is? Have you done any research of the property on which your house was built?
Oh yeah, our house too. Not as much paranormal activity as yours, but thumps in the kitchen so loud we run in there and NOTHING. Hubby doesn't want to talk about it, but I KNOWWWWW.
My husband has seen my grandfather in our hallway, long after Grandpa was dead. (He lived in our house for a while when he was in his 90's.)
Lisa,
The time the light went off just as I thought to myself, "...and that light better not go off again," was one of the scariest. THE scariest was the headless man. In fact, I made Hick put in a light switch at the top of the stairs so I would never be left in the dark down there again. I used to turn off the overhead lights and a lamp, and climb the stairs with only a glow from upstairs to guide me.
The cold room started after Hick brought home a chest of drawers from a second-hand shop in Festus. Genius was the lucky recipient, and his room had the cold chill. I did not make the connection until Genius grew up a bit and got new furniture. His room warmed up. The chest went to the basement, where the light issue began. The light was not loose, and did not burn out. It would go off, and then come back on a random number of hours or days later.
A neighbor found a cannonball on his property. We've only found arrowheads. The whole area used to be part of a big farm. The headless man was not in a uniform. He had a black jacket, and an old-timey white shirt with a stand-up collar, and small, round black buttons. I almost walked right into him. I jumped sideways to avoid him, and he faded away. He was shorter than me, but of course he had no head. His shoulders were shorter than mine, and I'm 5'8".
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Linda,
My husband scoffed at my headless man, and humored me with the light switch. Then he saw the kitchen door open by itself when he was the only one home. Of course he expected me to believe him.
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Sioux,
I suppose strangers like me better than my relatives. The Pony used to tell me when he was a toddler that his grandpa came in his room at night to make sure everything was OK. He died of cancer when The Pony was six weeks old, and his last weeks were spent holding that baby for four hours every morning. It's his pipe tobacco that I smelled, a blend of Kentucky Club and some cherry stuff that he hand-mixed. But I don't get the feeling that the noises are him.
Ooh, very creepy! But glad to hear it sounds like Grandpa is keeping an eye on things.
Tammy,
Yes. Nobody has been harmed or had hair turn white overnight. But for the last two nights, a light-up decorative cup in The Pony's room has dimly lit up by itself. Not the full, red-and-blue strobe that starts when you push the switch to ON. Just a dim glow, with nobody touching the switch. It does not stay on all night.
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