December, First Weekend

I am a person who has spent years watching and wondering about Life. When I analyze it carefully, I have to conclude that life is about experience. For me, whoever gets to the grave with the most, and most varied, life experiences wins. An unusual one was once when I encountered a ghost in an old palace in Rajasthan, India. The apparition gave me quite a shaking. Therefore, I know firsthand that such things do exist. However, I never expected one to show up on my home territory, especially in a nondescript house in the middle of the woods, even though it had been vacant for over ten years. I only became aware of it because of Auriel, a long-time friend.
She is one of five or six friends left from when I lived in Houston in the early 1980's. All are special people, definitely people I have chosen to keep in contact with. As it turns out, Auriel has a certain sensitivity that I, and apparently Rick, did not have. He and I had worked to transform the living room into a livable space, including having Billy move some worn-out furniture to the dump. We thought everything looked terrific.

However, when Auriel arrived to spend a weekend, she says she feels uncomfortable in the house. Then I am really taken aback when she declares she will not sit in the living room. When I ask her why, she tells me she feels some kind of negative energy in there. It's news to me, for I've even been sleeping on the floor in front of the fireplace because my bedroom gets so cold at night.

“Like what?” I question her.

“I don't know. Some spooks.”

Then I confess. “Several incidents have occurred that were rather strange. Like one night, the clock went flying off the refrigerator when I was not even close to it. Another time the light in my bedroom started flickering. I stood on a chair so I could reach up to check it, but it stopped every time I touched it. This happened several times.”

“But weren't you frightened?”

“No, not really. They weren't major incidents. But last week... that was different. It was a rainy night. I never listen to radio or TV, so I never know the news. However, I had spoken with Larry. He told me that Huntsville was in the national news because of an escaped murderer. At the time, I didn't give it much thought because this place would be hard to find from any direction.

“However, that particular night it was raining, not heavily, intermittently, but enough that everything was dripping wet. I was in the living room dancing to get some exercise when there were a couple of loud knocks at the back patio door. Oh, merde. I can't handle this one, I reacted with some anxiety. So I just turned up the music and kept dancing as if nothing had happened. From the living room window, I could see most of the deck. I moved back and forth to see as much as possible. No one was there.”

"“I don't know how you can stay out here alone," Auriel comments.

“I admit I was apprehensive for an hour or so that evening, but I settled down pretty fast. I just kept telling myself, it's got to be your imagination. It's the only time I have been uncomfortable since I've been here.”

Auriel is a veritable dynamo of energy. After fixing the sticking patio door, she wires a telephone line to the living room for my fax machine. Since we plan to cook dinner over a campfire by the pond, she even helps me clear the area of tons of cow droppings. The neighbor's cows must have found a hole in the fence. Shoveling manure is one way country folk get exercise; they don't have to go to a gym.

Just before the descending darkness tints the trees and meadow gray, we have a fire blazing. When some red-hot coals appear, we pop in our foil packets of chicken, corn on the cob and potatoes. Then we sit around the radiant flames and watch the stars shimmer into sight through the misty dusk. The winter heavens always seem the darkest, unabashedly revealing a billion stars shining on a sea of icy black. I do enjoy my solitude, but sharing this wonderful natural space with friends is also very gratifying. I would like them to be able to see the world as I do, if only for a brief moment.

“It's sure not like this in the city,” Auriel breaks the silence of our contemplation.

“Just imagine, this scene is what mankind has been beholding for thousands of years. Right up until less than a hundred years ago, this is the world that everyone knew at night. So many changes in the human life in such a short time, it's really mind-boggling,” I ruminate.

“That sky looks pretty good to me just as it is. I wonder why we messed it up.”

“That's what I often think, even though I know I will some day have to return to the city myself. This place is giving me such an opportunity to observe and appreciate the world we live in. It's just so natural: no pretensions, no boundaries, no suppressions, no expectations, never needing to experience a new reality.”

After our delicious sizzling dinner, we return to the house where Auriel instructs me in the dynamics of an elaborate ceremony to clear out the “spooks.” By coincidence someone, somewhere, in her varied life's journey had told her about ghost busting. To set the scene, we open all the windows to let in cool fresh air and provide exits for the spooks to escape. Then we put on some blaring rock and roll music to make them want to get the hell out. The main ceremony consists of Auriel walking through the rooms clearing the space with smoking white sage sticks, which I brought from Sedona. Meanwhile, I continue to clang loudly a couple of lids together to encourage the spirits to be on their way. It's all new to me—but I'm happy to follow her instructions. Afterwards, we say an invocation of peace to surround the house with light and protection.

The end of the story comes a few weeks later, when I am in Houston, spending Christmas with my family. One afternoon my brother-in-law takes me aside and says, “Nancy, I don't know how you are staying in that house. There's something in there. I'm sure it's haunted.” Now he is the most down-to-earth character you'll ever meet. I have an imagination to conjure up unusual sounds, but I'm sure he doesn't.

“What makes you think so?” I query him innocently.

“You know I've stayed there when I was traveling on business. But I could never stay there over two nights in a row. There were so many strange noises, like someone moving furniture, or clanging dishes, in the next room. I'm sure something is not right at that place.”

Even so, he looks surprised when I tell him about the ghost-busting ceremony. At the first opportunity after I return home, I question Billy if anyone has died in this house. He doesn't know of any deaths here. He says old man Hullum had moved into town when he got too old to run cattle on the place. No one has lived here since then. He adds that, before my brother bought the place, some hunters from Houston used to use it for some wild parties. That's all. In any event, I settle back into my environment with total confidence that I am alone and safe.