I live in a very strange old house. It was built sometime between 1910 – 1912, there are no doors to close off the rooms except the bath, which was added on later (back in those dim dark days, people used outhouses unless they were of the Vanderbilt type – the Biltmore House has bathrooms galore) and the back porch, which a previous owner enclosed. It is the creepiest house I have ever lived in other than the few months I spent in a former coworker’s place about a mile away. That abode was a paranormal investigator’s dream – shadow figures, eerie goings-on, bizarre voices, and a weird sense of foreboding, as if something freaky was just about to take place.
Yes, I know that I have written in the past that I do not believe in the paranormal – and I don’t – but my fiance does, and so do certain members of my family who have heard about the ‘Demon of Moravia Street’. We have been living in this little shack since January of 2015, and there have been several instances that those with a supernatural bent would term ‘paranormal’. My fiance has had candles thrown at him, a container of room freshener tossed his way, the TVs in the main bedroom have issues and often stop working, and he’s heard knocks at the door (nobody was there of course when the door was opened), been poked by an unseen finger, and heard something playing with the blinds – it wasn’t the cats, who were lazing about on soft blankies at the time.
Once, when my fiance was coming inside from walking the dog (this was months before we got the second mutt), something jerked the door back when he put his hand on the knob. He looked in, saw me sitting at the computer, and with wide eyes, hurried back outside. He had to compose himself before he could tell me what had just happened. Another time, he heard something in either the bath or on the back porch but when he checked, there was nothing there. Yet a third incident I recall was when I was on the back porch recording a video to send to reality TV producers about why our lives would make great television viewing, and a sigh was clearly heard on the recorder when I played it back, right when I was talking. There is no way that I can sigh and speak at the same time. However, I downplayed the incident even when speaking about it with family.
There was also the time when I was sitting in the bedroom in the dark with only a candle burning, gazing into the mirror and asking the Powers That Be to reveal the winning numbers for that huge billion dollar Powerball lottery a year ago. Rather than numbers magically appearing in the mirror, I saw a man’s face – with a droopy mustache and a hat like those of Old West – transposed over my own. I sat there unable to move, and then the man’s features were gone and a woman’s face was there instead. She wore her hair in a bun and had the appearance of someone from the early 1900s. I was, needless to say, kind of scared…almost too fearful to move….but I grabbed the candle and got the hell out of that room and I’ve not attempted any ‘mirror magick’ since.
Just the other night, we heard 3 knocks – the Unholy Trinity, paranormal investigators would claim – and this time, the dog ran to the door but when my fiance opened it, no one was on the front porch. Then the dogs stared into space at something neither of us could see – I wasn’t paying attention until my fiance mentioned it – and then he heard something, an odd noise he couldn’t identify. I did not hear it but I figured that when we heard the knocks and he opened the door, paranormal investigators would state that we’d ‘let it in’…strangely enough, this thought did not frighten me at all, Today I plan to sage the entire house whilst burning a white candle and firmly urging the spirit or demon or ghost or whatever it is to MOVE ON. This is OUR house, WE pay the rent, and YOU MUST LEAVE.