Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Our Ghosts...continued

It was the same house in which we had experienced the visitor in the hallway.

Dad was in the clawfoot tub, door shut.

The handle wiggles, and shakes.

"Les, knock it off."

He's sure my mother is messing with him.

A minute or so passes and again the door handle jiggles.


Meanwhile, the distant voice of my mother rings from the kitchen downstairs.

"What do you want!?"

I was beside her in the kitchen. There were only 3 of us in the house.

Dad sprung from the bathtub for the towel, and opened the door to find nobody.


I remember in summer, sleeping on my parents bedroom floor in a sleeping bag. Summer in the upstairs of Washington Avenue were hot as hell, and my parents laid keep to the only air conditioner in the house.

I remember on one occassion dozing off, hearing the sqeaky 'creak' of a swingset, and a deep sinister laugh bellowed from the hallway. It was enough for me to wake up my parents.

Perhaps I doze off just enough to imagine it. Perhaps not.


The nightmares I had on Washington Avenue were creepy. I could never scream, and "the bald man" was almost always involved.

I remember in one dream, folding clothes with my mother in the hallway (for some weird reason), and seeing "the bald man" jump across from my toy room to the attic door way out of view while we folded.

I screamed to tell mom, but my vocal cords were silent. I struggled to squeak out what had happened, but she could never understand. Thank God THAT was a dream.

But isn't it odd how this "bald man" is exactly the style of character that I saw creep past my bedroom in shadow, and that had my parents gasping seconds later?

Other experiences occured I'm sure, but those are the ones that stick out for Washington Avenue.

Tomorrow, Columbia Avenue. The spying ghost, falling newspapers, and creepy shadows part II.

Stay tuned.