It was
mid-August – summer holidays and were sitting around Jan’s kitchen table with
our hands linked and a candle flickering in the centre. Outside it had started
raining as a storm moved in - the sky was black as pitch and it was only early
afternoon.
We had come
to Jan's house to hang out because her grandmother was working and we wanted to
play with the Ouija board after spending the past week talking about ghosts and
spirits. We found out quite by accident that Jan's house actually had a one.
Her grandmother had bought the house as an estate sale - the former owner
having died, had been found near the steps several days later. We thought we might
like to hold a séance to contact the old man and see if we could "raise
the dead" so to speak. Shockingly that rainy afternoon, we came very close
to doing so.
For some
reason and at some point, most kids become totally obsessed with the
paranormal. They want to read or hear ghost stories, hang out in graveyards,
try out Ouija boards and call up the dead to get scared skinny. Usually one kid
in the group being a little more knowledgeable about the subject instigates
interest in it. In this story, that kid would be me.
For as long
as I can remember I had an interest in the paranormal and still do. I have
dreams and experience ghostly presences in some old houses. There will be like
a smell to me when I walk in and then usually I get a chill up my spine. I
swore there was a ghost in the old house we lived in on Sunnidale Street and
hated going up the steps to my room at night for fear of passing its ghostly
presence on the stairs.
On that
stormy afternoon three of us had been calling up the old man's spirit through
the Ouija board and asking if he was present in the house? We asked the typical
questions - “what is you’re your name” and “how did you die”, as if we didn’t
know. In response of course, the little three legged table with our fingers
pressing softly, slid slowly across the board spelling out answers to the
questions we asked. It was a good prelude to our séance - our nerves were
tingling and we were spooked at any noise. We decided we needed to call up the
old man because we felt sure he was still in the house. So we had lit a candle,
closed our eyes, joined hands and began inviting the spirit to come forth. Poor
old guy wouldn’t know what hit him!
Outside the
storm got worse with thunder booming and lightening cracking through the sky.
The wind was blowing so hard that tree limbs knocked against the house. Inside
a storm was brewing too and the old man who’d died in the house was letting us
know he was not happy to be called away from his peaceful sleep.
Suddenly
cupboard doors in the laundry room began slamming open and shut and the budgies
in the living room started going crazy in their cage - fluttering and squawking
with no escape. The three of us joined in séance gave up our connection and let
go of hands jumping up from the table and cowering against the kitchen wall. It
was surreal - the noises from outside and within.
We whimpered
and cried and clung together in a corner of the room, one of us braving to grab
a broom and another trying to open the window to yell for help. That was me and
to this day I can tell you that window would not budge an inch to open. It was
stuck hard and fast. We dropped together to the floor and clung to each other
until the storm passed, listening to the squawking birds and strange noises
coming from inside the house. We closed our eyes and ironically prayed
"please God....help us, please protect us from evil spirits!"
Finally the
storm outside subsided and the rain stopped. I stood up and tried the window
which opened easily, then started yelling "help" to anyone that might
hear. Inside things had quieted down as well as we calmed down slowly and
worked up the courage to go into the living room to survey the damages. The
birds were alive but there were feathers everywhere under the cage. Cushions
from the couch were strewn about on the floor and the bedroom doors were shut.
We opened them but all was in place – apparently the havoc had not reached that
far.
We decided
to make a dash for the back door and ran outside, jumping down the back steps under-which
the old man was said to have been found. Free from our invisible chain of fear,
we ran down to the park laughing hysterically and verbally summarizing what had
just happened. Had it happened for real? Yes – we all agreed.
Along the
way we ran into some boys and tried to tell them the story of our near escape
and possession, but of course they didn't believe us. They called us liars and pooh-hoohed
at the silly report. It was pretty unbelievable I guess if you weren’t there
and part of it. Sandy, the third girl in our group was spooked and decided she
was going to go home - it had all been a bit too much for her. In truth she did
not hang out with Jan and I that much and did so even less in future. In fact
in years to come when I approached her about that day, she said she didn't remember
it the same way at all. We all had our own version of that séance I suppose.
As for Jan
and I, we didn't let it stop us from ghost hunting that summer - we just didn't
do it at her place again. In fact the next stop was the cemetery where along
with some other kids we laid down in front of gravestones pretending we were
dead when airplanes flew over.
The story
about that rainy afternoon is one I have told over and over again when the
subject of paranormal comes up. Every kid likely has a scary story to tell, but
I wonder if it happened in broad daylight during the worst storm of the summer?
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