Article by Wendy McCance
Halloween is almost here. This is that time of year when you think about spooky things. There is a memory that has always stuck out in my mind that I would like to share. Years ago in my first home, I used to wonder if there was a possibility it could be haunted. Several times things would happen that I would try to just shrug off.
There were plenty of times that I would here what sounded like something heavy like a paint can fall to the floor in the basement. The noise would make me jump. Every time I heard this noise (or something similar to it), I would go down into the basement and take a look.
The home was a small bungalow and the basement was a tiny square of a space. You could see every corner of the room from the bottom stair. The basement was pretty bare except for laundry items, tools and a few boxes of papers and clothes. Needless to say, whenever I took a look, there was never anything on the floor. I could never figure out what the noise was from.
As time went on, I began to feel creeped out every time I went upstairs. There was one room at the end of a short hall used as an extra bedroom. When we moved in, there was a brand new carpet on the floor. It never occurred to me to look underneath it. A few after moving in, the room was painted and the carpet was moved. Underneath, there was a red stain. The stain was the size of an overturned bucket. I have no idea what it was from. Honestly it looked like a blood stain, but I tried to convince myself it must have been from kool-aid.
I began to believe I had an overactive imagination and decided I was being ridiculous. No one in the family had ever mentioned noises, stains, the blackbirds that were appearing in the house or the orbs that showed up on photos when developed. It had to be me. I must have seen too many movies and read too many books about supposed things that should be considered ghostly.
Confirmation that something wasn’t quite right came one evening when my husband and I were alone in the house. We were sitting in bed with the tv on and having a conversation when I heard a bang from the back door next to the kitchen. It sounded like someone was desperately trying to get in and it was seriously loud. I turned to my husband to ask him if he had heard the noise and what did he think it could be when all of a sudden, it sounded like someone was running through the house at full speed. We had wood floors and from the back door off the kitchen to our room, it would be impossible to run because of the twists and turns in our small little bungalow. Even so, it sounded like pounding, super fast footsteps coming right towards our bedroom.
My husband grabbed my hand and sat straight up in bed looking freaked out. The sound rounded the corner of the kitchen and came straight down the hall towards our bedroom. It got faster and louder and then right as it got to our doorway, stopped. Our door was open. No one was there. I looked at my husband and asked him if he knew what the hell had just happened. He was as dumbfounded as I was.
Eventually, he decided that it had to be the house settling. I have never in my life heard something that sounded like hard, pounding running when a house was “settling.” I asked my husband if that was the case, how come it started at the back door, went through the kitchen, rounded down the hallway and came right down the hall to our bedroom? Why did the sound end when it got to our doorway?
My husband looked a little more than uncomfortable and he had no explanation. To this day we have no idea what that noise was from. We were relieved when we moved out a year later. We just couldn’t shake the spooky experience.
These days when we look back at that evening in our old home, we both think that maybe there was something going on other than a house that was “settling.” Either way, I am glad that we have moved on from that home. Just the thought of being there gives me the chills.
To contact Wendy McCance about a writing assignment, interview or speaking engagement, please email her at: [email protected]
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