My
husband and I have a summer home in the mountains of North Carolina. Built by his
great-grandparents during the depression, it has been a serene retreat for many in his
family for generations. Everyone who visits the house falls in love with it's rustic
charm, and the serenity you feel when you pass through the front door.
Everyone
but me. I met my husband there when we were 18. He was staying there alone on
break from college, and I was spending time at my family home one town away. I have
always felt a certain connection with the spirit world. As a child I had unexplained
visions, and even as an adult I feel I have instincts about certain situations I am not
able to explain. I have told more than one person they are pregnant even before they
themselves knew. My friends are often wary, knowing I have this gift, because none
of them want to start a family anytime soon. But I digress.
The
first time I spent the night in the house I felt so eerie I could not sleep.
That night was the first time I felt there were others there. Being an old house,
there is a strange layout of bedrooms and baths. The original bathroom has a door
that leads outside to the well where they used to draw the water for the tub.
It is fairly high off the ground, and the steps have long since been removed, but on more
than one occasion I have seen a face staring at me through the doors' window. I know
it can't possibly be a living person because you would have to have a very tall ladder to
get up to the window. There have been times when doors shut and lock from the inside
and there is always that feeling of a presence. I must say that I have never felt an
ominous feeling as if I am in danger, just that there are people there that want to live
happily as if they were still "with" us. I shared this with my husband who
always said yes, the house was a little scary, but only because it is so secluded and at
night the surrounding area is so dark. Until my daughter was born.
My
husbands' family has had many a tragedy befall them, but perhaps the most heart wrenching
was the death of his mother when he was only 18 months old. From what we know she
was more than a good mother. Having lost her first child in infancy, she dedicated
her life to her second daughter and the baby, a son. Tragically, after dropping the
children off at a sitter, she was hit by an oncoming train and killed instantly.
Having loved the house in the mountains, my father in law thought the only option was to
have her cremated and her ashes were spread in the woods behind the house. There is
a rock on a hill with a plaque bearing her name. (Which leads me to the night in
question.)
My husband, 19 month old son, 2 month old daughter, and myself were spending a couple of
weeks in the house before we closed it up for the winter. It was our first night
there and my sister had come to eat dinner with us. As my son played and laughed in
the front yard, my sister made an interesting comment. She said, "She loves to
hear children happy and laughing again." I said, "Who?" She said,
"Carey's mother, she misses the children." I looked at her and
strangely. it was like she was speaking for someone else. My husband smiled and his
eyes welled up with tears. To not upset my husband the subject was promptly
changed.
Shortly after my sister left, and I laid the baby down in our bed for the night. I always
make the children sleep in the same bed when we are there, mostly for my peace of mind
that they are close by, or for fear my son might get hurt while wandering when he awoke at
night. Now I don't fear for his safety when we are there, because I know we have
someone watching over him. After I placed the baby in the bed I turned off
all the lights and pulled the door closed so just a bit of light from the living room
showed through.
My husband, son, and I stayed in the living room reading, and after about an hour I went
in to check on the baby. As I walked into the room, I noticed it was brighter than
it had been when I left. I saw the baby sleeping peacefully with a halo of light
surrounding her. As I turned around, I saw a lit candle on the old stone fireplace,
shedding just enough light to see the baby on the bed. I screamed and my husband
came in.
Frantic, I asked him why he would have lit the candle when we were not there with her (the
house is made of solid wood and we are always careful not to light candles when we are not
in the same vicinity). He said that he hadn't been in the bedroom and hadn't lit the
candle. We looked at each other, and knew it was his mother. That
night, after we all went to bed, we awoke around 2:30 when the door to the bedroom
closed. We heard footsteps go down the hall, and when the dog got up to investigate,
he promptly ran back and jumped up on the foot of the bed.
Perhaps her days' work was done, and she herself was turning in for the night. Although I
am not scared, any time we arrive at the house at night, I always make my husband go in
first to turn on all the lights. I guess I just want to be sure of what or whom I am
bumping into...
