Who's been sleeping in my bed? A Halloween story

 

See this key? My house is so old that this is the key to my front door. It's original to the house. We have been told it was built in 1908. It sits on a knoll in a hollow, no neighbors, just woods and the country lane that snakes around the hills and dips and rises with the terrain. If I were to have car trouble in the middle of the night, I would feel considerable trepidation about walking up the long, dark, steep drive that leads to the house, especially as we leave no lights on at night.

I love this house and along with my husband have raised 3 children here. It definitly shows its age in some ways. It's creaky, groany, and prone to the winds howling around all its interesting cranies and corners, but it's filled with the memories of my children and now my grandchildren. But over the years, the girls and especially their friends have said that as old as this place is, it must have a ghost or two.. It was only owned by one family before we moved in, and although they all lived to be very old, none of them died here we have been told. I've always laughed at the notion of a ghost and still do for the most part, but now more than ever my kids are convinced we have one.

The house is four stories. A damp, kinda creepy basement, the first floor, the third floor where all the bedrooms are and a fourth floor attic that opens into one of the bedrooms.For the seventeen years we have lived here tucked under the eaves of the attic there has been a very old iron cot with a simple covering over it. None of us have ever bothered with it until a few months ago, when my youngest daughter saw an idea in Romantic Homes magazine to use an old cot as a couch on your porch. Excited, she called and asked if she could have the cot in the attic. My husband brought it down and we loaded it up and took it to her. The covering turned out to be a large piece of linen most likely from feed sacks. I washed it and put it away for a future vintage project of my own. At this point, we all pretty much forgot about the entire thing.

A few weeks after moving the cot, I decided to sleep in the little room the attic door opens off of. I had a cough and didn't want to disturb my husband. I had been lying in bed with my back to the attic door for about 15 minutes when I felt the distinct impression of someone sitting down on the bed. My mind did a quick check, "Did I put the cat out?" I remembered doing that so it couldn't be him. I told myself I was a tough, fearless old broad and to forget about it. That was working o.k. until it happened again. For the first time in my life I felt the sensation of the hair standing up on the back of my neck. What to do?! Instinct took over quickly I am happy to say. I flung back the cover, uttered a shrill "EEK!" (why do people do that?) and barreled down the hall sans pillows and practically wedged myself under my sleeping husband and this time I made darn sure I was facing the door the entire night.

Next morning I was on the phone telling my girls my tale illicting vows from all that they would never, never, never sleep in that room again. My husband had a different reaction. He thought a moment and then said, "Well, whoever that cot belonged to up there must be upset about his bed and is just looking for a place to sleep." Sorta like that cautionary tale about 3 bears and a certain blonde girl. Hmmph.

Not to be intiminated by any spirit in my own home, I was determined to sleep in that room again the following night. And yes, I did leave all the lights on. Oh, and I did fortify myself with a glass of wine. Oh, all right, it was 3 glasses. I guess I was the only "spirited" thing in the house that night, because I am happy to report that I passed the night in peaceful slumber.