Witching Hour

September 14, 2016

In the process of trying to hunt down the sound that had shattered my first night in the new house, my friend Jason made the comment that as long as nothing happened this following night at midnight, I would be fine. Having seen more haunted, paranormal shows than is probably healthy in my time, I authoritatively said, “No, witching hour is much later, it’s between three and five in the morning.” And that’s where I went wrong.

Surely the events of last night could be explained. Surely there was some rational explanation. Granted, the idea of the paranormal was no foreign subject to me, but this was my ship. It couldn’t be sinking.

Jason, Elizabeth and I set out on an investigation to de-bunk the mystery of the sounds that afternoon. We searched high and low, shaking and moving any object we could imagine, and eventually we found it. However, rather than set my my mind at ease, I became even more rattled.

As I was leaving the restroom in the master bedroom where I was staying, the inside door knob told me it was he! The rattle I had heard was the knob. The door knob had rattled in the night as if someone was frustrated, trapped, and couldn’t get out.

After I shared this frightening discovery with my friends, Elizabeth taped over the knob so that it could not make noise in the night. Eventually, after several hours, Elizabeth left for the evening, but Jason stayed to install the smoke detector.

The very kind neighborlady came over and I shared with her the adventures I had endured during the night. She gave me a great big hug, told me to call her if anything happened and assured me that I could stay at her house if anything happened.

Jason finished his chores and then it was time for him to go. I didn’t want any of them to leave, but a slumber party for adults in the middle of the week seemed a ridiculous proposition, so Jason left and it was just Kitty and me.

I prepared for bed, played with Kitty, then left the door to my room open, so she could come in and out if she was comfortable. Having another heartbeat in the house was a great comfort, even if she wouldn’t cross the threshold into the room.

It took a long time for me to fall asleep. It was so cold! It was September, and it was absolutely freezing in the room. No matter what I did, I could not warm up. Even when I tuckered down after a hot shower to sleep, there was no relief.

Though I knew that I was perfectly alone, I could not shake the feeling that someone was standing at the foot of the bed, touching my feet, telling me, “You’re in my bed.

Ignoring the unmistakable feeling of being watched, I focused on Kitty who was still meowing incessantly at me. Eventually, Kitty curled up in a ball just outside the doorway and likely stayed there probably until the middle of the night when…

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP

An alarm went screaming off from the kitchen. I BOLTED out of bed thinking it was the fire alarm, but it was not.

It was the digital alarm clock on the kitchen table, flashing brightly 1200AM.

Midnight.

Picking the screaming thing up, I ripped its cord from the wall to silence the howler. The lights on its face went black, but it fulfilled its mission of waking me up and proving me wrong.

After this incident, I realized that I was not welcome in the master bedroom.

I quickly ran to the back of the house to grab the photo of my grandma and me, my Crucifix, a flashlight and a blanket. At that moment, I could not be paid enough to sleep in that room.

I closed the door for the night and proceeded to nest on the couch that was probably thirty years older than me. Content and happy with my decision, my little protector Kitty perched on the back of the couch, curled up in a ball and continued to watch over me.

Kitty had been warning me since I arrived at the house, so I finally took her advice. With the standing lamp on, I spent the night on the couch facing the hall. The light and the change of scenery was a slight comfort, but I knew without seeing it, without fully believing it, that something was standing right in the hall, facing me too.

Left side of photo, the hall.

Until next time dear readers, for the exciting conclusion of The House,

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

PS – Happy Halloween


2 thoughts on “Witching Hour

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