Theresa Lewis

There’s something very special about our Christian holidays. Beyond the actual religious meaning of the occasion, is the party aspect when the family gets together to celebrate. The older I get, the more I enjoy the festivities. I suppose it’s because I live alone and don’t get out as much as I used to do when I was younger. For the most part, my visitors are usually one at a time which I love, but being in the midst of the whole family, is a great experience because my family is totally wacky… I mean that in a loving way. I never know what to expect… not from the family members, nor from the animals. Each occasion is quite unique.

 

This Easter, I went to my sister’s for the afternoon and an early supper. It was a fun time. When it was time to leave, I turned down a ride home with my sister’s oldest daughter and her husband just so I could stay a little longer and hitch a ride with my other niece.

 

When I was at my sister’s house, I noticed a few changes. She gets bored with the sameness of her surroundings so she moves furniture around and reorganizes her space. She has a knack for making it flow visually in the end. She has a recliner that used to be diagonally opposite a corner in her parlor.

 

About six years ago, I went to stay with my sister after my husband left me. My sister knew about my ghostly attractions. She told me that her house was clean and that I better not bring any of my ghosts with me into her house. On Christmas day that year, right out of that corner in her parlor where now her recliner sits, a young teenage girl appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the afternoon. The apparition was as solid as you and I and it lasted about fifteen seconds. If I had to determine the era she was from, I would say it was probably from the fifties, or sixties. She seemed surprised to see the color television that I had been watching. When she noticed me, she backed up and disappeared into nothingness. I never saw her before nor since.

 

My sister’s dog is as cute and cuddly as usual. The cat, however, is quite another story. At some point during every visit, her cat would wait for just the right moment then would sneak under the table and nail me in the crotch every single time. It would make me shriek in pain as the beast hung by one toenail from my “mustn’t touch it” as it struggled to free itself. I want to tell you that if you’re not expecting that attack, it is horrifyingly painful. I was told that I am the only one she ever did that to. Another mode of attack from that beast was waiting for the right moment then she would bite my bare toes. The crotch attack and the bare toe attack were standard attacks at every visit. I swear that animal walked away laughing at my hysterical reaction after the attacks.

 

This Easter, however, was different. There were no insane sneak attacks. The cat was very affectionate during this visit. Still, I never let my guard down for a moment because I remembered just how sneaky that cat could be and how painful those attacks were.

 

A little after seven thirty in the evening, I said I wanted to go home. My niece was sleeping so my sister offered to drive me. I was okay with that so we headed out to the car. I was surprised to note how cold it had become during the few hours that I was there. I could barely wait to jump into the car to get warm, but the car was too close to a massive snow bank and there was no room to open the door to get inside out of the cold. I had no choice but to wake my niece up and ask her to move her car for my sister to get her car out of its spot.

 

Once my niece was outside, she told her mom that she might as well drive me because she was already up and her car was at the end of the driveway.

Off we went. About five minutes into the drive, it started to snow. I mentioned that we were scheduled to get a few flurries. My niece said it wasn’t a problem for her because she was comfortable driving in the snow.

 

No sooner were the words out of her mouth when suddenly it became a total whiteout. There was a muffled thump noise then it looked as thought someone had just dropped a white quilt over the car. Oh, my God! Not only was the snow bad, but then we realized that we were into an area of extremely dense fog as well. I was yelling at her to stop the car because there was absolutely no visibility whatsoever.

 

In a momentary break in the fog, we realized that we were right by a driveway so my niece quickly turned the car around and headed back to my sister’s house because the fog and snow squall were heading towards my sister’s place. My niece drove like a bandit being chased by cops in order to outrun the fog and snow that was threatening to envelop us again. Every limp, flabby muscle in my tired old body went as rigid as concrete from fight or flight anxiety. My muscles were so tight that I rode the trip back to my sister’s with my butt about two inches off the seat. Once we got back to the house, I was trembling so badly that I couldn’t get the door open. I had to stand back and let my niece open the door. I was a complete wreck.

 

My sister thought we had forgotten something because we were back barely ten minutes after leaving. Normally, it would take my niece about an hour or so to make the trip to town and then back again. I ended up staying the night at my sister’s.

 

Even though I was offered to bunk in with either my sister or my niece, I opted for the recliner in the parlor. In the past, I had had a good number of relaxing sleeps in that chair. I asked my sister where the cat and dog usually sleep. She said that both animals slept part of the night on her bed and part of the night on my niece’s bed.

 

To my utter surprise, both animals slept with me in the parlor. The dog was at my feet while the cat slept on my belly. I was aware that the chair was now in a position with the back pointing into the corner where I had seen the ghost girl some years before, but I tried to put that memory out of my mind.

 

Before settling down to sleep, the cat was kneading the blanket on my belly. Suddenly it stopped. It crouched really low with one paw in the air like it was going to pounce and it stared past me into that corner. I had neither the strength nor the courage to turn around to see what the cat was staring at so intently. Dear Lord, let it just be a spider on the wall, I prayed.

 

After a few tense moments, the cat settled down and went to sleep. I wished I had been able to sleep after that, but sleep eluded me. I turned the television back on and decided to watch anything that would eventually induce sleep.

 

Suddenly, both the cat and the dog alerted to something that I could neither see nor hear. Both animals were staring at the grandfather clock that was placed at the entrance to the parlor. My skin prickled. Moments ago I had been praying for the gods to carry me off to slumber-land. Now, here I was, lying in the recliner, eyes bugging out of my head and heart whacking out of my chest. The cat moved first and slowly approached the clock. The dog followed. Both of them stood in front of the clock. Holy crap! If I hear a voice come out of that clock, you won’t see me for dust, I thought. Snow squall and fog be damned, I’d run for my life.

 

Why would a voice come out of the grandfather clock? Well, about a month ago, my six year old grand nephew was playing with his trains in the parlor. He was all alone, as my sister was at the far end of the house and my niece was studying in the kitchen. Suddenly my nephew heard a voice asking him what he was doing. He looked around and realized that no one was there. It spooked him momentarily, but he went back to playing with his trains. Again, he heard the voice ask him what he was doing. He freaked out this time and ran to his mother and told her that a voice came from the clock.

 

My niece assured him that clocks can’t talk. Reluctantly, he went back to play. When he heard the voice from the clock again, he dragged his mom back to the parlor and with little balled up fists, he stood in front of the clock and commanded it to speak again so his mom could hear it too, but nothing happened.

 

When I lived with my sister, I had a small wood carving that my brother-in-law had done in the likeness of my dad and had given the carving to me. I placed the carving inside the cabinet of the clock to protect it from being destroyed by the mischievous cat. When I moved out, I left the carving for my sister and it still remains inside the cabinet of the clock to this day. So… who spoke to the child? I have no idea, but when I heard the story, it freaked me out.

 

They say a coward dies a thousand deaths. All-in-all, nothing happened, but the weird happenings this Easter did a number on my head. I was so glad to get back to my own apartment the next morning where I could sleep in piece. Yeah, I have my own spooks that follow me around, but so does my sister even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

 

THE END