When it comes to the supernatural, belief is an option which is based more on experience as opposed to acceptance. Some base their beliefs on actual encounters or witnessed occurrences. In the same respect, some will deny things they have seen or endured for the sake of sanity. Others get their belief second-hand. Though they’ve never experienced a phenomenon themselves, they accept whole-heartedly that others have. Likewise some will take information obtained then question, mock, scoff, and completely deny its sincerity and authenticity. Often this is done out of fear, as a defensive mechanism, rather that outright disbelief. The acceptance of such things indicates a lack of control and understanding of the familiar world. Thus, if they try to believe something they don’t possess the mental faculties to comprehend and accept, their reality begins to unhinge and become questionable.
Then there are those rare few who have witnessed and experienced so much that their belief goes beyond belief. The supernatural seems natural and paranormal is the norm, there is no need to believe, just accept. This is not to say they are gifted or unique, they just happen to be conveniently available when weird s*** happens. They are still fearful of and respect the unknown, but it has become a familiar fear and mutual respect (sometimes). The latter is the fate of this writer; thus why the happenings within the walls of the House of Saw haven’t driven me over the brink of utter madness…just yet.
The house was the final member of a quartet of similarly constructed homes on the then desolate Route 5 in Bethlehem, NC. Built in 1964 the basic 1 story, 3 bedroom brick home rests on a modest half-acre plot. In time a full basement was dug, a spiral iron staircase installed and a closed in garage was added.
History indicates that the site never served as a graveyard or burial ground for the past century. In addition there are no recorded deaths, murders or ritualistic sacrifices within the residence since its construction. All previous residents entered and left alive. So all indications of a past occupant haunting can be dismissed and yet…there is… something… here.
In ’98, a former female companion and myself took up residence, accompanied by our previous relationships’ offspring. We both had little girls of the same age (4) and would, despite their differences in appearances (mine curly blonde, hers straight brunette) jokingly pass them off as twins. This was a mistake because twins, even pretend ones, are creepy.
Money was tight so the home was completely furnished for under $500. This consisted of friend and family contributions, yard sale and thrift store as well as roadside finds. Some of the pieces of this eclectic décor were vintage antiques with obviously no past history to reference.
The first incident occurred within days, following the housewarming party. There is no mistaking the sound of two giggling little girls playing with a bouncy ball in an enclosed hallway, even at 1am. So I rose to escort the “little angels” back to bed. The hall was dark, which seemed odd. Upon flipping on the light, sure enough, there were two little girls with a white ball standing on opposite ends of the hall. One blonde, one brunette; one in a pink taffeta dress, the other green…these weren’t our kids. They looked at me in silent terror and faded away…I screamed like a little girl!
Then there were the ritualistic nightly sounds emitting from the back door. Not as though someone were trying to open it, but rather something was trying to push its way through it. Many a night was spent sitting in a chair, facing said door, with a flashlight in hand and shotgun across knees. Jerking open the door and firing blindly into the darkness to no avail. Exhaustion leads to its own kind of insanity.
Though the nights were fraught and restless, the days were no better, as they had their own haunts. At 5pm each afternoon, a rickety truck could be heard pulling into the gravel drive. This was followed by an incomprehensible conversation between two men, a door closing and the truck pulling away. The problem was, upon looking out, there were no men, there was no truck and we didn’t have a gravel driveway.
In my past 20+ years in residence there have been countless incidents such as these. Visitors have heard the voices that echo from the walls. Some claim to have seen the two little girls, as well as well as other uninvited “guests” wandering around various parts of the house. Some encounters are dismissible, others horrifically chilling, but honestly too numerous to mention here.
The most notably recent occurrence was when the grandson (aged 2 ½ and still a tot at the time) came from the kitchen into the garage stating, “I don’t like that little girl.” Assuming he was speaking of another child at day care, we lightly asked what little girl that would be. His little eyes filled with worry and his voice took on a dead serious tone: “The one in my high-chair.”
Carrying him back into the kitchen, he clung to me in sheer terror and cried as we approached the chair. Yeah…that was enough for me. Returning him to the safety of Grammie (Lil’Red) and the garage, I grabbed up a baseball bat and the highchair met the fate of countless “occupied” objects before it.
Are these restless wandering spirits? Are they mass hallucinations brought on by some unknown mold spores within the walls? Is there a rift to the netherworld that I’m currently still making monthly payments on? Are these ghosts or just figures seen through realities windows? Am I the ghost??? Whooohoooo… no probably not… I don’t think. Whatever they are, wherever they’re from and whether you, I or anyone else believes in them is irrelevant; because some things don’t require for you to believe in them to be.
I welcome almost all questions and comments via FOCUS, or email me at [email protected] or you can FRIEND me on Facebook under Saw’s Brood!
Hope to hear from ya, until then try and stay focused. See ya!
