House of Darkness House of Light (63 page)

It felt so peaceful to her; calm and quiet. Having always desired a bedroom of her own, more importantly, the child wanted to get away from
whatever
it was in the middle bedroom seeming to seek her out…to haunt and taunt her, especially in the night. Children have a tendency to think literally: linearly. It did not occur to her at the time; there was no escaping the sights and sounds surrounding her in the darkness. This change of location a few feet away was highly unlikely to alter the inevitable outcome; merely a change of scenery. The grass is not always greener on the other side of a shared wall; inevitably, it was the same grass planted somewhere else. No matter where you go, there they are; lessons learned over time are, at times, of no service in the moment. Cynthia’s desperate craving for a different bedroom was equally misguided and ill-conceived; the rebellious act of a child would soon be duly noted by disgruntled spirits Earth-bound to display some rebellion of their own. She’d be punished accordingly. How dare she reject them! Going somewhere, little girl? Attempting to leave us behind? No such thing! As if she had left a trail of crumbs through the woods, they followed her…with a vengeance.

This youngster attracted supernatural activity unlike any of her siblings. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she’d come so close to death herself. From the first night the family moved into the farmhouse, the room where she slept became the place where spirits gravitated. Smells and shapes moved through the shadows of spaces so dark it was difficult to see, even with the lights on. There was something about this room…something wicked. Her bed vibrated almost every night. It was moved in the morning. At times it would lurch and scrape across the floor, even though its metal feet never scarred the wood: no telltale signs; no evidence. When approached, she’d frequently hide beneath the covers begging God to make it stop. Cindy saw things in the middle room she will never forget so when the opportunity presented, when she perceived an escape route had cleared, a way out, she literally
took
it.

“Mom, please don’t get mad at me.” Apprehensively, the child approached her mother in the pantry after dinner.

“Mad about what?” Carolyn was perplexed. She never did anything wrong.

“Come see.” Mother dutifully followed her daughter up the staircase.

“So
this
is what you have been doing all day! Why didn’t you tell me so? I could have come to help you.”

“I was afraid you would tell me I couldn’t have the room and I just
had
to get out of…there!” Pointing toward the room next door, Carolyn understood. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask first.” Confession is good for the soul, so they say, and Cindy was relieved her mother was not upset by the slight deception. On the contrary, Carolyn appeared delighted by the initiative taken; hard at work on such a beautiful day when her sisters were hard at play. Impressed by the results of an obvious effort made and muscle extended, Cindy received only high praise; no harsh judgment against her. Carolyn looked around the room.

“No point in a good room going to waste, I say…and a good thing you’ve snagged it before Nancy did…then it would be a wasteland! Of course, when Annie comes home from school you’ll have to share it…does she
know
you took her bedroom?”

“She knows I wanted it but I didn’t ask her, either. But I know it will be all right with her…she’s like that…she shares everything!”

“I know it will, too. Good job! What does Chrissy think about this move?”

“She’s okay with it I guess…she’s putting her bed up against the same wall as mine. I’ll help her move it so we can still hear each other at night. I don’t want her to feel all alone in there. It was scary enough with the two of us.”

For a few nights Cynthia slept like an angel; utterly undisturbed: Reprieve! It could not have been more blissful. And then it began. Within several days of occupancy she noticed the bed ajar whenever she entered the room. This bedroom had always been quite active as well. Soon other pieces of furniture followed suit…rearranging the suite in her absence. She’d return from school to find the room completely altered; a desk shoved to the center of the floor, her bed, cockeyed, pulled out of place; stuffed toys thrown off the bed into the corner. Cindy had worked hard to set it up the way she preferred it to be; to find it repeatedly tampered with, left disheveled; such disrespect angered this urchin. Frustrated, she cursed whoever it was doing it as she struggled to return everything to its original position, in its right and proper place, all the while chastising the spirits interfering with her life. Cindy threatened them, rather harshly, to get the hell out; leave her new bedroom alone: Big mistake.

Andrea had numerous encounters during her tenure. For the six years it had been exclusively her own, she witnessed a multitude of manifestations but has no recollection of the bed ever moving while she was awake. However, she often awakened in the morning to find herself clear across the room, the bed having been relocated by several feet during the night. This was a rather common occurrence in the farmhouse, one of those lesser evils; venial sins: space invasion…a violation no one paid much attention. Cindy spent many nights curled up with her big sister in the big bed but it wasn’t until she slept in it alone that she fully appreciated its innate power to petrify. Shaken like a kernel of corn in a package of Jiffy Pop, Cynthia was forced to endure the raging of the spirits or a demon intent upon keeping the child sleep-deprived; Cindy had to rock and roll with the punches in order to retain possession of a bedroom she was unwilling to relinquish…to anyone.

Andrea has vivid recollections of her quilt rising and falling, as if someone was sharing space in the bed beside her, visibly breathing beneath the sheets. Whenever this happened, the youngster would sternly demand, “Go Away!” Now
that’s
an order! Firm. Decisive. Unambiguous. Obeyed. It always did resolve the problem perceived. Intervention was unnecessary; she never felt compelled to request assistance from God or anyone else, for that matter. She meant what she said when she spoke it; as the voice of authority, it proved adequate to dispel any intruder. Cynthia had a far different approach to this particular problem. She was willing to beg God for help whenever necessary. Once she’d moved into Andrea’s bedroom, to her great surprise, it became a far more frequent necessity. No shame attached or pride allowed in the midst of a crisis; not above requesting help from above, Cynthia often called upon the Great Spirit to rescue her from a malicious spirit routinely harassing the innocent girl. Andrea’s experiences had been similar though relatively minor in comparison with her little sister’s encounters, which lead everyone in the family to believe that she had indeed been followed. Though the eldest had a tendency to observe then react based on the severity of the infraction, Andrea found their antics annoying or at worst, distracting…but otherwise harmless. However, Cindy had close encounters which appeared to be life-threatening in nature as they occurred. Andrea spoke with omnipotence to clear the space and reclaim it as her own. Cindy did as she was told. Repeatedly uttering the words Mrs. Warren had instructed them to use when approached, she found the phrase useless, resorting instead to pleading as a heartfelt form of prayer. It worked. That’s what cleared the bedroom for the child intent on claiming it and keeping it as her own: adamant and unyielding, she would
not
be chased away…to go where? Beginning to see the light, Cynthia realized the truth: no matter where you go…there they are. In time, an alternative approach was successfully adopted and beings would adapt, providing ease from dis/ease, a comfort to all involved. Initially, she was terrified out of her mind.

It had nothing to do with the choice of bedroom per se, but rather pertained to
the child
whose attention was solely demanded. As surroundings changed so did the nature of various manifestations she was subjected to; paranormal activity increasing overall. Cynthia had escaped
nothing
; in fact, her level of exposure was magnified by a lateral move. It only served to aggravate spirits apparently satisfied with habitually visiting her in a very specific location. A unique phenomenon occurred: Cindy had entered another realm of the house, another dimension, just a few feet away from a space she formerly occupied, thereby introducing her to entities with whom she was unfamiliar; those she had yet to encounter apparently relegated to this bedroom. Apparitions she’d never seen before began manifesting with such frequency; it seemed she was still sharing space against her will. Likewise, those she’d attempted to leave behind in their middle bedroom stepped audaciously, belligerently across its threshold into another. The massive relocation project spawned a realization: Cindy discovered the source of the haunting chant she’d endured nightly for six long years. It became louder, more succinct, less muffled, as if coming from inside the wall directly beside her bed. Acquiring Andrea’s bedroom came with a series of characters and complications, lending further credence to the phrase, “Be careful what you wish for…” She knew this was one battle she had to win. In a vast theater of operations, a sudden repositioning is risky business. According to Cindy it was like moving from one stage onto another and taking the entire cast, only to discover another complete cast ready and waiting to play their parts as well; the making of an epic…with understudies!

She began hearing voices she had never heard before; strangers. Familiar voices came rippling through the ether with clarity she was unaccustomed to, yet these new sights and sounds were only the beginning. Within two weeks of taking over the bedroom, her peaceful repose became a thing of the past.

One evening Cindy went upstairs to get her homework then decided to stay and enjoy her privacy rather than joining her sisters in the kitchen. Settling in on the center of the bed, she’d worked quietly for several minutes before the onslaught began. It was dark outside but the room was bright. The last thing she ever expected happened. As if a gigantic hand reached into a dollhouse, retrieving the bed along with its occupant, it suddenly lifted off the floor. As she screamed it began shaking violently: naughty it was not nor mischievous; not like a kid trying to knock a doll from a piece of toy furniture. Instead, it was a vicious and relentless attack. While the bed hovered off the floor it was jerked and lurched so intensely, Cindy was certain she would be thrown from the mattress. Yelling; a shrill, piercing scream ensued at the top of her voice. Bumped and bothered, throttled and thrashed, Cindy hung onto the bedpost, pleading for safe release. “In the name of Jesus Christ, go back to where you came from!” Tears pouring from her eyes; there was so much fluid leaking from her face she could not see what was happening around her but she felt it, making the wild ride all the more terrifying. Jostled and tossed across the surface of the bed, an unprovoked attack continued unabated. The bed came alive. It vibrated furiously, tipping side to side. Then it began banging down onto the floor with such a force, it shook the entire structure; one strike after another. Steam escaped from Cynthia’s mouth with each panicked shriek; the room became unbearably frigid. Books were bouncing off the walls as papers and pens flew imprecise patterns, trapped within a spiraling shaft of stench; a whirlwind as circling projectiles crashed into this child, over and over again; punishment time! She knew her family was downstairs. They
had
to hear it, what was happening to her…someone would surely come running!

“God help me!
Please
make it stop! Somebody please come and help me!” Cynthia begged. “Dear Lord! Jesus! Make it go away! Mom! Come help me! Mom! Please God, send
someone
to help me!” Frantic, she was traumatized; in shock. Her memory of it is still quite vivid; emotionally compelling these many years later. Cynthia recalls this episode as lasting
a long time
, at least a couple of minutes, though she’d be the first to admit the inherent difficulty in establishing an accurate time frame for these episodes, as time itself seemed virtually suspended whenever they occurred. The aftermath of this episode is equally confusing. Just like Dorothy landing in Oz with a jolt, a sudden drop ending with a
bang
finally silenced her screaming and stilled the bed. As the air cleared, the room instantly warmed. It was over. Cynthia was clinging to the headboard, eyes wide open; saturated. The bed was centered in the room and those many objects which had defied gravity were all scattered across the floor. She dared not move a muscle. Barely breathing, once sufficient time to recover passed and Cindy regained her equilibrium, she leapt from the bed, running so fast, she tripped and fell down the stairs. Racing into the kitchen, she promptly confronted her mother, along with the rest of the clan. No one expected such an explosion of hostility…none were prepared.

“How could you
NOT
hear me screaming?” Hollering, crying hysterically, her voice completely hoarse from the strenuous workout it received upstairs: “Mom! Why didn’t you come? You
had
to hear me!
All
of you
had
to hear me! Why didn’t anyone come? How could you leave me all alone up there?” Everyone was stunned by the outburst. Nobody understood what happened; siblings sitting speechless in front of homework assignments were confused, unable to respond. Visibly trembling with rage or fear, perhaps both, Cynthia threw a spontaneous temper tantrum; a rant and rave unlike anything anyone had ever seen from her before; the youngster was out of her mind with terror. Carolyn went directly to her daughter. She pulled away from her mother, still furious with her and everyone else in the kitchen, accusing them of willfully, deliberately ignoring her pleas, abandoning her in the midst of a crisis.

“I swear to God, Cin…we didn’t hear you.” As meek as Cindy was usually, Nancy suddenly assumed this persona. She tried to reassure her little sister, still in one hell of a panic, but Cindy would have none of it.