Unwelcome

It is always good to trust your instincts. I have had to learn to listen to my inner self the hard way. I mean, I have felt uneasy before. I have had intuitions about certain situations or people I have met but nothing like this. I have taken a step back and reassessed my choices. That sort of thing is normal. What I felt in that house is nothing like that. I do not know if I have truly experienced evil but if I had to describe it, then what we found there would have to be it. I just hope I never have to feel that again and I would hope no one else ever has to. If you have, then maybe you will understand why I needed to write this.

In late October 2016, my wife and I purchased our first home. It was only a two bedroom with one bath but it was more than enough for the two of us. We were not wealthy but the home had been listed at a reasonable price. It had been built in the early 1960s and needed some repair. Most of the work was cosmetic though and if it meant I could save twenty-grand I was willing to put in the labor. When we closed on the property my wife and I were so happy. It was such a change from renting apartments and we were eager to make the place feel like our own. That lasted for about two months.

My wife, Melissa, had been repainting the kitchen cabinets when we first experienced it. She had just stepped down from her ladder when the brass chandelier above her came crashing down. It almost sounded as if we had a percussion band in the room as the pieces of faux crystal went flying in all directions. I remember that she had commented on wanting to keep the antique fixture but with so many broken parts, I was unable to reconstruct it. She swept up the remnants as I expected the bracket that had held it. The screws were not stripped, the box within the ceiling felt secure, and I found no obvious defect with the light itself. I could find no reason for why it fell in the first place.

That weekend I decided to trim the hedges in the front yard. They had been allowed to grow for so long without attention. Melissa was inside hanging a few pictures on the walls. Once each bush had been taken down a few inches I decided to take a break. As I entered the front door I noticed my wife preparing to place a portrait of her grandparents on our living room wall. I had almost turned to the kitchen when I witnessed the step stool fold over. It was one of those moments when time seemed to slow down just enough for you to see what was to come. In truth, it only took a few seconds for both Melissa and the portrait to collide with that hardwood floor. I wish I could say that the picture was all that was broken. My wife’s arm was in a cast for the next two months.

Most people would not find it odd to misplace something. It happens to all of us. It only started to get strange when things would go missing for days at a time then suddenly appear in places it should never have been. For instance, I was putting up shelves in the garage and my level simply disappeared from my tool pouch. Three days later I found it lying next to the bathroom sink. It started with small things and both of us chalked it up to absent-mindedly leaving things while moving through the house. Then items that were important began turning up outside. I think my car keys were first and my wife’s checkbook was next. You know, the kind of things you try to keep track of.

We both started to think we had run into a string of bad luck. Stray animals had started strewing our trash across the yard on a regular basis. Neighborhood dogs would sit outside our home and bark for hours on end. I cannot remember how many calls I had to make to animal control. In the most silent of moments, birds would come crashing into the windows and nearly scare my wife to death while she was home alone during the day. One or two of these occurrences would be annoying but when the stove turned on by itself and almost caught the kitchen on fire we started to feel as though we were not welcome in our own home.

The following February, my wife revealed to me that we would be expecting our first child. We both were excited and nervous at the thought of bringing another life into the world. The two of us had talked about having children and both agreed that we wanted them. When it was a reality the weight of the responsibility of caring for one had us both a little scared. I joked with my wife that she had intentionally picked a home with an extra bedroom for this specific reason. The strange events seemed to die down during the months she was pregnant and we hoped it was an end to it.

Our son, Liam, arrived on November 27th, and by that time it had been weeks since anything peculiar had happened in our little home. We had started to believe the pregnancy had turned our luck around. Now, we only had to contend with the needs of the addition to our family. The constant need for cleaning, feeding, and care wore both of us down but we both agreed that we would not trade it for anything in the world. That little boy had our hearts from the moment we laid eyes upon him. Being exhausted was just a price that we were willing to pay for that joy. That was the state I was in the night the unexplainable started all over again.

Melissa had taken Liam from me at about ten o’clock. She knew I would need to be up early the next morning for work, so she told me to get some rest. It had become routine for me to get comfortable on our couch. Melissa had suggested it in order to keep me from being disturbed by Liam’s late night feedings. The television still hummed across from me as I pulled the throw blanket over me. I remember the screen being a blur as my eyes fluttered shut. I had almost fallen asleep when the blanket slowly pulled away from me. Slightly annoyed, but not started by the action I simply pulled it back over me. After a few moments, it happened again. I pulled it back once again and let my arm come to rest on top of it. A force that I am still unable to fully understand lifted my arm and the blanket. I shot up and noticed that my cover was now across the room upon the floor. I was unable to sleep that night.

My wife was sure I had been dreaming when I told her about it the next morning. The rational side of my brain wanted to believe that. I wanted to think that my tired mind had simply played a trick on me. I told myself it was possible that I had never even covered up at all. This is how I reasoned my way out of being cautious. So, we both continued our day as if it had not happened. I went to work, she stayed home with Liam and when I returned home we had dinner together. When it was time to give the little one a bath, Melissa handled the cleaning and I would do the drying and dressing. When Liam was clean, my wife placed him carefully on the changing table in his nursery.

I was applying lotion to my son’s skin when I first heard it. Melissa was watching from the doorway with a smile on her face. Liam had started reaching out and cooing but his eyes were not focused on either of us. He seemed to be looking behind me and for some reason, I felt the need to look too. The ceiling fan turned above us but the room was empty. I assumed he was simply fascinated with the rotating blades of the fan. The sound I heard was soft and if it had not been so quiet I would have missed it. I looked to my wife to see that she seemed shocked as well. I did not need her to answer but I asked the question anyway.

“You heard that right?” I said quietly.

She nodded slowly, “It sounded like a woman humming to Liam.”

I looked down at my baby boy, confused and somewhat scared. He was smiling and squirming about as if someone was playing with him. He was being entertained by something neither of us could see. I quickly dressed his tiny body and handed him to his mother. As Melissa exited the room I could have sworn he was trying to wave at whatever was in the room with us. It made my wife uneasy and decided to place him in the bed with her that night. I found myself sitting in the glider rocker for an hour after the event. I listened intently for any sign of the noise we had heard. When I had convinced myself that we had been mistaken, I turned out the light and found my way to the couch. I could not sleep again.

The humming happened after every bath. Liam seemed to enjoy it but something about it set us on edge. It did not matter what room we were in or what time we chose to wash him. Whatever this thing was did not seem to want to hurt our child, so we tried to ignore it. Well, I tried to ignore it. Melissa, however, voiced her opinion on the matter frequently. As the weeks went on she would tell me about Liam’s things turning up missing or finding Liam in positions she had not left him. She suggesting leaving and selling the house when she found our son crying underneath the crib. My foolishness would not let me give up our investment and we began to argue about it on a regular basis.

By the time Liam was one, my wife had started sleeping in his nursery. She was convinced that something inside our house was going to take our son. She even had nightmares involving an unknown woman kidnapping him and drowning him in the creek behind our house. I had started to think that the stress of tending to our child was too much and suggested taking a few days off to help. Melissa was still so sure that it was the house but agreed to the break from her duties. My boss was understanding and let me have two days with my family. Each strange event seemed to tear at the fabric of our relationship and I had hoped that this could help save it.

The first night Liam was restless and woke me every thirty minutes. I was groggy with each attempt to sooth him but not so tired that I would have missed something being wrong with him. I made a call to my mother and she suggested giving him drops for gas. She was sure he was just dealing with some discomfort and if I needed any other advice to give her a callback. Our son seemed to settle down after that and I was finally able to sleep. The second night, however, the drops did little to calm him and eventually I found myself dosing off in the rocker with him still in my arms.

I woke up at midnight to my wife screaming. She frantically asked where Liam was and I was sure I had been holding him. We searched the nursery first, then the rest of the house. Our son was not within the four walls of our home. Melissa was dialing the police when I noticed the back door was partially open. As I opened it I could hear the faint cry of our son in the distance. I bounded across the grass in my bare feet and dove through the thin row of trees that separated our property and the thin stream of water behind it. Liam was lying at the edge of the creek, still wrapped in his blanket, and wailing for help.

My wife packed her things immediately after. Between her terrified ramblings and tears, she told me how she could not live like that anymore. She began telling me stories of seeing a woman standing over our son’s crib or rocking the chair at random times during the day. She told me of the whispering she would hear when she was forced to leave our son alone for any length of time. Melissa was sure something did not want them there and would go to any length to make them leave. When she pulled out of the driveway she told me that she would be at her sister’s home until I agreed to sell the house. I should have left with them. I should have been more concerned. I had no way to explain how my son ended up outside alone and I should have believed my wife sooner.

That night I checked the door locks. In my mind, I was still trying to make sense of what was going on. There had to be a logical explanation. Someone had obviously found their way into our house and had tried to kidnap our son. They had seen me exit the house and abandoned their effort. That was the only reasonable conclusion I could come up with. The door, however, had not been tampered with. Someone had unlocked it from the inside or had a key to get in. I made a mental note to change the locks the next day and I would call Melissa to try to convince her to come home. It was around nine o’clock when I decided to go to bed, but the events of the day kept my mind busy well past eleven.

At two in the morning, a noise woke me. I laid in the darkness listening to what sounded like scratching on one of our windows. I eased from my bed, grabbed the baseball bat from the closet and crept down the hallway. There was no sign of anyone at the French doors that lead to our back yard and the lock was still engaged. The scratching had become louder and seemed to originate from the kitchen. I continued on, my bat ready to swing if something were to jump out at me. When I flicked on the light, however, the room was empty and the scratching came to an abrupt halt. A chill found my spine.

I stood at my kitchen sink, staring out the window. I watched the wind push the trees side-to-side behind our property as the feeling of unease became stronger. At that moment it was as if eyes were digging into me like daggers. I felt unwelcome in my own house, hated, and as though I was in immediate danger. The light above me flickered before going out completely, which prompted me to start moving. As I exited the kitchen I heard the cabinet doors swing open and miscellaneous items fall to the floor. Metal clanged and glass shattered as I quickly made my way through the living room.

When I crossed in front of the back door the knob began to rustle violently and I heard the scratching again. My hand brushed the light switch but it did not work. I had been plunged into darkness as my home was being tormented by some unseen force. The mobile that hung above Liam’s crib began chirping the nursery rhyme that was programmed to it. It is amazing how a song that is intended to sooth a child could insight so much fear. The tune began to distort, which drew my attention.

I had almost made it to the hall when I stopped dead in my tracks. The figure my wife had described was sitting in the rocking chair of Liam’s nursery. It glided back and forth a few times before it looked in my direction. The door to my son’s room slammed shut in front of me, which broke me from my trance. I was down the hall and in our bedroom in seconds. I did not even take the time to collect anything except my shoes and car key before running back out. The figure was in the hallway now. I could not see its face within the darkness but I could hear it breathing. My terror was so great I could not move.

It crept closer, almost hovering toward me. My eyes hurt from how wide they were drawn open and I could swear the room became progressively colder. My breath had even become visible as my chest rose and fell frantically. My mind could not make sense of what I was witnessing. I could not ignore it anymore and there was no reasoning my way out of it. My house was haunted and whatever we shared it with did not want us there. It stopped just inches from me and I could feel the icy breath upon my skin. Suddenly, the silence was broken and a scream that reminded me of a hundred wailing tornado sirens sounding at once. It was so deafening I was forced to cup my hands over my ears. I tried to fight it but eventually my eyes began to blur and my knees became weak. It only a took a few more seconds within that madness for me to lose consciousness. My body crumpled to the floor beneath the entity.

When I woke up the next morning it was gone. I gathered a few things I would need and joined my family at my sister-in-law’s house. I contacted our realtor the next day and put the house up for sale. We went back to renting shortly after, feeling hesitant to purchase another property. We have not shared our ghost story with our family but I wanted to share it with someone. You see, after almost three years we have not had another paranormal experience. Melissa and I were so sure that our horrible memories would be just that, bad memories. Then last night our son climbed into bed with us, shaking and crying. Melissa tucked him in between us and attempted to sooth him by rubbing his back. I asked him what was wrong and his response sent a chill down my spine.

“That lady scares me,” his tiny voice responded.

Melissa looked at me with terror in her eyes before asking, “What lady, Liam?”

His small hand rose and his index finger pointed to the end of our bed, “The one who watches us sleep.”