It was a cold, dark, autumn evening in
1979 in Regina, Saskatchewan and I was eleven years old. Our decrepit two-story
house eerily groaned and moaned as it settled. The stairs were booby trapped
with their own creaks, so sneaking up or down was impossible. My mom was
preparing to leave for a session of bingo, and was leaving me to baby-sit my
three and four year old sisters. I hated babysitting at night because we had no
phone. In fact, I hated the thought of ever being alone in that house. The next
thing I knew, she was heading out and instructing me to lock all the doors. I
eagerly obeyed. Now, I was alone in this old dark house at night, with no phone,
and two and a half hours left. Gradually, a sense of dread and an urgent need to
fill those hours overcame me. Suddenly, the idea of a bath seemed like the
answer.
My sisters were playing while I washed and
rinsed their hair when I heard the familiar sound of someone coming up the
stairs. I immediately assumed it was my mom; she was back early. I quickly
called out and asked why she was home; there was no response. Fearing she didn’t
hear me, I called out again; once more there was no answer. After that, I called
out for a third time with more urgency: nothing. Then, the footsteps reached the
top. I looked at the bottom of the door the light from the hallway revealed no
clues. Now, the footsteps were going from room to room, as if searching for
something or someone. My blood ran ice cold and the bathwater only intensified
it. My heart pounding out of my chest, I gasped silently as the shadowy figure
glided into my mom’s room. My anxiety spread to my sisters who by then had
stopped playing and were quietly looking at me. I motioned them to be quiet with
my finger to my lips.
As I glanced at the latch that locked the
door the shadowy figure walked across the creaky hallway and into my room. The
feeling of being trapped was overwhelming and a fleeting thought of jumping out
of our second story window crossed my mind. I got out of the tub as quietly as
possible and listened at the door the silence was deafening. Shockingly, a surge
of anger flowed through my body, and with only a towel wrapped around me, I
unlocked and swung open the door. I ran into my room only to find nobody there.
The realization that no one was there was confusing because I saw and heard it
go into my room. I raced downstairs to check the doors, but they were still
locked. We hurried down to the living room and camped out there until my mother
came home. I told her everything and she suggested it was only the house
settling. Early next morning my mom woke me and reported that her youngest
sister was killed that very evening; I had experienced my first ghostly
encounter.