southbendtribune.com - by Becky Emmons - At least once a day I carefully open the door to Monty’s room to see if everything is as I left it.
After Monty, our second son, left home for good, we did what a lot of parents do — we redid his bedroom.
Out went the plaid wallpaper, twin beds, shelves of trophies. In came deep blue walls and some old family pieces, including the antique, standard-sized four-poster bed that I grew up with. The problem came when I found the perfect bedspread with shades of blue: Blue flowers.
Needless to say, he does not sleep in that room anymore. He usually slept in the guest room anyway; it has a queen-sized bed and its own bathroom.
His bedroom gets little use. I probably use it the most because I’ve taken over his walk-in closet for my out-of-season clothes and shoes.
I always keep the door shut because I don’t want cats in there taking naps. I’ve especially kept that room off limits because since our son Rod married Danielle in June, her wedding gown has been hanging in there.
A few weeks ago, I experienced a series of disturbing events, some in Monty’s bedroom.
I was having a restless night and couldn’t sleep so I went down to the sunroom and plopped on the sofa. Suddenly I heard a loud swishing noise that sounded like a rushing, gurgling river.
We have radiant heat beneath the stone floor, but even when the heat is on, I’ve never heard this sound. I was puzzled about it, but too tired to do anything about it, such as wake up my husband.
I dozed. Something woke me up later. I was aware of flashing lights outside. I got up and stumbled to the door between the family room and the garage. When I opened the door, I discovered the big, overhead garage door shut, everything in perfect order … except the flashers on my car were blinking.
It really freaked me. I woke up my husband on this one. He calmly said, “Well, turn the car on and turn the blinkers off.”
But, how did they get on? It totally unnerved me. I went back to bed with him, but was more restless than ever.
That morning, I went down to Monty’s room to look for a pair of sandals in his closet. The door was shut as always, but when I walked into the closet, there was a pile of shoes and shoe boxes that had apparently “fallen” off a couple of shelves. Needless to say, I was spooked again.
“Who is messing with me?” I shouted to no one. Tyke, one of my dogs who follows me everywhere, took a step back and cowered.
I seriously began to question my sanity, my memory, my thoughts about ghosts. It had been my husband’s grandparents’ house. If they were haunting, why were they bugging ME? My car. My shoes.
Within a couple of days, I began to feel like it had all been a bad dream or maybe somebody’s bad joke.
I ventured back to Monty’s closet. There on the floor in the closet doorway sat a pair of black dressy flats that I’d gotten last spring on a sale table. Now, we women know our shoes, and I know I had not seen that pair since I’d put them away after I bought them. I’d completely forgotten about them. Yet, here they were, out of their box, sitting neatly side by side, ready to be stepped into.
I think that episode bothered me more than any of the previous ones.
I’ve questioned all my family members, rightly so as they are a bunch of jokesters. All pleaded ignorance.
Monty seemed to take me the most seriously; maybe because it’s technically his room. Via long distance phone the next day, he asked, “Mom, have you checked the room today?” And a couple days later, “Mom, is the room OK today?”
So, I continue to check. And, as the season of goblins and ghoulish things approaches, I’m bracing myself. I’ll keep you posted.
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