Things that go bump in the night

I was 6 when my mom happened to drive by an old barn in a little town & fell in love with it.

She drove home & told my Dad to buy it.

And so he did, because he loved her.

We left our custom built house down a winding lane a few hop, skips & jumps from a river and moved to

"Podunkville"

Population: 4,000

The house was built in the 1860.  First as a barn that housed pigs.  Then it was converted to a cheese shop in the 1880's, then converted into a house early 1900.  There was a bigger barn for cows that was razed.  That became a beautiful sunken garden.

When we bought the house in the 80's it was falling apart.  It had only 2 bedrooms.  One bedroom (mine) was on the first floor.  My parents bedroom was the only room upstairs.  You walked up the stairs & to the right was their bedroom.  To the left was a locked door to...well....the upper half of the barn.

This what was behind door #2!  A very large, open, dusty unfinished room.  My Dad eventually built a laundry room, bathroom (with a lovely sunken tub) small office & a large master bedroom.  The roof was so high he even was able to install a pull down latter that led up to more storage.


My Dad worked on the house making it, at first safe & livable.  Then finally he made it perfect.  We then after living there for 7 years moved... after all that hard work.

I loved the house.  It had about an acre or 2 of land.  It had an old horse barn for a garage.  I could play in a little forest, climb apple trees, catch frogs in the creek or pick flowers in the prairie section.  I had a rabbit, ducks, a dog & gerbil.There was always something to do.

I grew up with just my parents.  It was nice, just me, my mom & Dad.....and

something..or someone.......else.

When we bought the house....it wasn't empty.  It came with peeling wallpaper, a deadly furnace, leaking roof, rotting carpet & a ghost.

My parents never, EVER said anything to me.  But I found out years later we were not alone.  They had experienced things too.  My mom said the first night we slept in the house she felt it.  The haunting.  I remember it too...but I was so young...it must have been all in my head........

The house was cold that night.  The furnace didn't work.  Our furniture hadn't arrived, so we slept on the living room floor in sleeping bags.  The house was infested with mice so I got a kick watching them scurry around the baseboards.  My Mom...not so much.  Between the whimpers of my scared dog & the sound of the old barn moaning, I barely slept that night.  Coyotes cried somewhere in the fields & the shadow that floated on the ceiling fascinated me.  There was a blue hue to the room.  (I remember asking Mom were the light came from.  She said it was a blue moon that night.  Well, let me just say...that moon wasn't blue.  So I don't know what kind of hog wash she was telling me.) The shadow was in a shape of a man.  Sometimes it would hover above us...sometimes he would dart.  I enjoyed watching him....figuring at first, it was my Dad shuffling around.  But my Dad was asleep, snoring on my left, my Mom on my right.  I remember being confused at the man shadow & a bit uncomfortable.  By morning I was fine & happy to explore.  My Mom, I found out later knew...she made a grave mistake buying the house.

The fireplace was massive & was able to heat the rooms upstairs through vents.  My dog Tasha always by my side.  This was the room we slepted in the first night. 

I was never afraid of the house or the barn where my Dad like to tinker.  My dad loved his little garage/barn.  There he placed all his tools.  He was always working on something.  Handing me nails, hammer & wood I would work along side of him making airplanes.  But the garage was also the favorite place for.... Him.  Apparently my Dad was well acquainted with Him...who he named Fred.  (we named everything Fred.  The garter snake's in our garden, Fred.  The wounded birds I would find & feed, Freds.  The brown bunnies dotting our yard, Fred)  Fred was notorious for messing w/ my Dads tools.  My Dad would yell at me because I would move tools as he turned to grab something...but I never moved the tools.  After awhile my Dad realised...it was never me.  He thought he was going mad.  He became more aware of me...being out in the yard & his tools...disappearing right under his nose.  Most of the time they just moved around the table.  He would turn & the tool would be gone...only to find it under a cloth or another tool. (My Dad was scared of losing his mind he even went to a Dr. to see if he has dementia.  He did not)  One day one of his prized tool went missing.  He looked under benches, in his tool box, on the floor.  The tool was gone.  Vanished. 

A few days go by & still no tool.  He couldn't finish a job without it.  He got a hint one day as to where his tool might be.  He heard footsteps above his head.  He heard these steps all the time.  But when you live in the country, raccoons are as big a medium sized dogs.  They were always in our attics...garage & house. My Dad often had to cage or shot these very pissy, nasty things.  This day...he pulled up a chair & listend.  Really listened.  "Stomp, Stomp, Stomp."  His hair on his neck stood straight.  Those were not raccoon feet.  Those were feet w/ boots on.  He yelled up to the ceiling "Hey...I have a gun!  You have a choice, you come down now & I let you walk off the property alive or I go up there & fill you with lead!"

Silence.



"Stomp....Stomp...Stomp"...... Silence.

My Dad got the latter & his hat w/ a light attached to it...& his shotgun.  Up the latter he rose.  He slid off the ceiling panel & climbed up into the dark attic of the old horse barn.  Poor guy was sick & nerves.  He really didn't want a gun in his face & he didn't want a racoon to jump on his face either.  But he was sure a hobo was up there.  As he climbed up...he saw nothing.  No escape route, no hobo, no raccoons.  Nothing.  Just wood beams, barn dust and

His prized tool propped up against the wall.

My Dad flung himself out of the ceiling,  Crashed down the latter & ran  out of the garage.  He thought he was having a heart attack.  He laid down on a patchy piece of grass to calm down.

It had been confirmed in his mind...we...were not alone.