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Me And My Shadow (And My Shadow’s Yellow Eyes)

We are having some work done on the new house. It’s nothing major, but whenever I get an update on the renovation timeline from our contractors, I hear Tom Hanks and Shelley Long laughing and whispering “two weeks” in my ear. In the meantime, all five of us (and the two dogs) are holed up at the Residence Inn, or as I like to call it, The Grand Cluster Fuck. The family logistics are a mind numbing, patience-testing time suck, but I did manage to go out for a walk with a real live ex-paranormal investigator recently.

I met her at the Wellesley Wonderful Weekend Picnic in the Park. It was a fever dream of bouncy houses, ice cream trucks, toy carts and wild children hopped up on sugar and the freedom of knowing their parents won’t yell at them in public in front of all their neighbors. We ran into friends and set up our blankets near one another. Snuck some wine in to-go cups and chased each other’s kids around, trying really, really hard not to lose one of them again this year.

I ran into Nick Sayles (Ouija board creeper) with his wife Maeve and their son. It was a touch awkward. He congratulated me on our newest addition, and his wife cooed over Kat, confessing that they had been trying for another baby.

“You can borrow this one whenever you like,” I told her.

“Don’t tempt me,” she said.

“Hey, wait here,” Nick instructed, then disappeared into the preppy crowd. I made small talk with Maeve, asked after her best friend Jenn (poltergeist woman), and discussed our move and the house renovation.

C was off with the two older girls in the candy-themed bouncy house and I was sweating my ass off with Kat in the front pack. As we chatted, Maeve’s son kicked her in the shin over and over saying that he wanted ice cream which made me want to go get the biggest ice cream cone I could find and eat it in front of him while describing how incredibly delicious it was.

Finally, Nick reappeared with a woman I’d seen around town. She is one of those people that I share a schedule with. You know the ones? I see her every single time I go to Whole Foods. We get coffee at the same time and use the same dry cleaner. At any rate, we were un-introduced acquaintances and we smiled at each other in recognition.

“Liz, I wanted you to meet Biddy,” Nick said.

“Hi Biddy,” I said, holding out my hand for a shake. “You’re my errand partner.”

With a laugh she replied, “That’s right! I see you all over town.”

“Biddy used to be on our team,” Nick said.

It took me a moment to understand what he meant, and then it dawned on me, “Oh! Your investigation team, cool,” I smiled at them, but immediately felt suspicious of this woman. Who would want to spend extra time with Nick?

“Biddy was our Case Manager and Researcher, but she decided that the job didn’t suit her any longer,” Nick gave a forced laugh and clapped Biddy on her upper arm.

The awkward gesture made me flinch and Biddy’s stony reaction caused further social discomfort. We all stood for a moment, exchanging glances and I broke the silence and said, “Well, it was great to meet you, Biddy, and to catch up with you all, but I’d better go check in to see how C is doing with the girls.”

Nick nodded his head and Maeve smiled. Biddy asked, “Are they by the bouncy houses? I’ll walk that way with you, my daughter is waiting in line to climb the Special Ops course and I should check in with her.”

“Great!” I replied, meaning, no thanks.

“I didn’t leave paranormal investigating because it doesn’t suit me,” Biddy explained as we walked away. “I left it because it is dangerous. People like Nick think they have all the answers, but the truth is no one knows what’s out there. The only thing I am sure of is that it’s nothing to play around with.”

“I would love to hear some of your stories if you ever wanted to talk about them,” I said. “I write a blog, and -”

“Nick told me,” Biddy interrupted. “I would be happy to talk to you about the reality of ghost hunting. Do you walk?”

This question threw me for a moment because I was walking right alongside her. Then, I realized what she meant and nodded my head.

“Good, let’s meet up for a walk around Lake Waban, at the college. Do you know the path?” Biddy asked.

I did. Biddy suggested a date and we exchanged numbers so we could text. We said goodbye and I watched her walk over to an adorable teenage girl with a long blond ponytail. Biddy high-fived her and clapped her hands as the girl launched herself into the obstacle course.


On the appointed day and time, I left Kat with a babysitter and drove over to the Wellesley College campus. It had undergone its annual spring transformation. Lush plantings of all shapes and sizes blanketed the grounds, while wise old trees rolled their wise old tree eyes at the undergrads, having seen it all and then some.

I was well acquainted with the path around Lake Waban, but the healthy greenery disoriented me so much that I missed the entrance to the parking garage and had to wind around for a few minutes before I found my way back. Let’s be clear, it was a case of foliage disorientation – not “mommy brain.”

Once parked in the strange garage (the structure reminded me of Chinese wok), I strolled along a campus pathway towards the lake. You know, I loves me some background research, but Lake Waban, the body of water we intended to trek around, is a secretive little minx. And by that, I mean, several Google searches didn’t produce much information about the big puddle. I did find an article from the college newspaper that a nearby pond (Paintshop Pond) had been used as a dumping ground for a paint factory. Lead snuck it’s way into Lake Waban, and the college footed a hefty environmental clean up bill for the contamination.

A bit of forest, Wellesley College, and a handful of homes surround Lake Waban, and a path skirts it’s shores. The day that Biddy and I took our stroll, a sickly layer of greenish yellow pollen coated the lake’s serene surface. It was late May and it felt like the trees and whatnot had sneezed all over everything.

I was feeling optimistic. I’d put on the Moving 15 (not to be confused with the Freshman 15, the Winter 15, or the I Need to Cut Back To Just One Glass of Chardonnay a Night 15), and this walk felt so “active lifestyle” of me. I’d even worn workout clothes and sneakers. The exercise hadn’t been my idea, but that was neither here nor there.

I was staring out at the water when I heard my name called. I turned to see Biddy approaching in patterned shorts (J Crew) and a navy blue polo shirt with a popped collar. She wore pink slip on sneakers that looked like they might be Vans and her medium length coffee brown hair was pulled back into a high, bouncy ponytail.

She pushed her Wayfarers up and said, “Hey! I hope you weren’t waiting long, am I late?”

“Not at all, I just walked down here,” I replied.

Biddy’s long, toned legs traversed the distance between us at quite a clip and I began to worry whether I would be able to keep up with her on our walk. I also felt like a dope for getting all Sporty Spiced out and I coveted her crisp shorts and a preppy polo.

“Let’s do this,” Biddy said, and we headed down a paved walkway, past a little hill of tall grass that lead us to the lake’s footpath.

I fell in step alongside Biddy and did my best to match her pace. I had to hold my digital recorder up in front of us and felt like a reporter in an eighties superhero movie. After chatting a bit about her daughter (fifteen, at Wellesley High School, straight-A student, lacrosse/volleyball/swimming) and Biddy’s job (human resources director at a large consulting firm in Waltham) I finally asked her how in the world she got into ghost hunting.

“I don’t really seem the type, do I?” She mused.

“Not really, no,” I said as we walked across a long wooden bridge over a buggy, but picturesque marshland. I continued, “But the field does seem to attract type-A’s.”

“I come across as a type A?” She demanded.

“Well, I mean, you just seem like you’re a get it done sort of person,” I replied, a bit out of breath.

“I’m just fucking with you,” she said glancing over at me with a smile. “I know I come on a bit strong, and I agree. There’s something about ghost hunting that attracts strong personalities. I mean, look at Nick.”

I made a sound of agreement, saving my breath.

Biddy explained, “I grew up in a haunted house in upstate New York. It was a classic haunt, some residual stuff and a little intelligent interaction. We had slamming doors, disembodied voices, and one apparition, an old woman in overalls. I saw her a handful of times and we heard footsteps on the creaky floorboards all the time. Nothing too scary.”

“That registers to me as very scary,” I said.

[Side Note: For clarification, ghost hunters and paranormal researchers classify four different types of hauntings. A residual haunting is one that is sort of like one of those online gifs that play over and over. Like a bulldog on a skateboard, or a sleeping cat falling off the couch. Only, instead of a cute video set to replay itself, a residual haunting is suspected to be a place memory. It might be a traumatic event or something important that happened in someone’s life, and it plays in a loop – think Daryl Hannah in High Spirits.

A step up from this is the intelligent haunting. In these cases, there is a supposed spirit interacting with people. A ghost may tap or move items in an attempt to communicate, or frighten. Then there poltergeist hauntings, which appear to be tied to an individual who unknowingly provides telekinetic or emotional fuel for the beings. Finally, there are demonic hauntings. It is widely accepted in the paranormal community (and in many religious ones, too) that the goal of a demonic haunt is to break down a person’s will so the demon may eventually possess the haunted person.]

Biddy continued, “Don’t get me wrong, there were freaky moments, but my older sister and I shared a room and nicknamed the ghost Old Mrs. McDonald to make light of it. It didn’t frighten me so much as make me want to know everything that I could about the paranormal. I probably read every book in the occult section of our town library three times. My sister and I would go to Blockbuster and study all of the video cases in the horror section, of course my mom would never let us rent any.”

“When did you start actually looking for ghosts?” I asked.

“In college. I joined a club called the Upstate Ghost Hunters. We mostly sat around and drank Milwaukee’s Best and told each other urban legends and tried to pass them off as our own stories. But we did manage to investigate a few haunted places. We broke into an old abandoned factory and that was the first time I ever captured an EVP. It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me up to that point.”

“You grew up in a house with an overall-wearing grandmother ghost,” I said in disbelief.

“Right, but this was different. It was hard proof that something was actually happening. It couldn’t be explained away by an overactive imagination or wishful thinking.”

I was completely out of breath at this point and unable to say more than a few words at a time. We were walking through a particularly tree root laden area and I said, “What did the EVP say? Uh-oh, OH! WHOOOA!”

And then I went full on, ass-over-teakettle and landed awkwardly on my side. By some small blessing I was still clutching my voice recorder, and, by some small curse, it captured every little detail of the mortifying moment.

After much fussing and assuring that I was fine and that my skinned knee and elbow didn’t hurt one bit (truthfully, they burned like a motherfucker and I had blood all over my shirt and soaking through my sock), I caught my breath, brushed my hands off and started laughing.

“That was exciting,” Biddy said in an unsuccessful attempt to stop herself from laughing along with me. I couldn’t even respond I was laughing so hard.
Finally, I said, “I think I am going to wet my pants,” and I had to run back behind some Rhododendrons to pee.

“Alright,” I said, popping back through the foliage. “Can we try this again, but at a slower clip? I haven’t the coordination for power walking.”

“Of course!” Biddy said, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I am a total spaz,” I replied. “Before I took that epic digger, I think you were about to tell me about the first EVP you recorded.”

“Yes, right. We were investigating a factory and my friend, Kim, and I wandered upstairs to this huge open room. We walked to its center and turned on our recorder to do an EVP session. We asked the usual questions, you know, ‘what is your name, do you know what year it is, can you give us a sign of your presence.’

“At first, all we got was silence, then I said something like, ‘My name is Biddy, can you say my name?’ and something responded. It said ‘Bridget.’ That’s my real name, Biddy is my nickname.”

“No way,” I replied.

“Yeah, it was amazing. Whatever responded was intelligent,” she said, tapping her finger on her temple.

“That’s more than just an accurate response,” I reasoned. “I mean it knew something about you specifically.”

“That’s right, and we caught another EVP that night. I asked it where I was from and it gave me my street name, Hepplewhite Drive. That’s not really a common name, it was very specific.”

“But how could some random ghost in an old factory know these things?” I asked.

“That was just the beginning. I think that was the night that I really opened up and it took the opportunity to jump into my life.”

“What did?” I asked.

“The supernatural,” Biddy pointed to two swans floating on the water not far off shore.

“Nasty animals,” I commented. “My husband grew up on a lake and a swan drowned their neighbors dog. Stood on him and flapped his wings to keep him under water.”

“Horrible!” Biddy replied. “Do you have a dog?” Biddy asked.

“Two,” I replied. “Westies, little white terriers.”

“Be careful if you bring them out here, actually anywhere in town. A coyote just got a dog off Weston Road. Those things are vicious.”

“So I’ve heard.”

We continued walking and I asked Biddy what she had meant by letting the supernatural in the night she recorded the EVPs.

“I think I made myself a beacon. I was primed and ready, having grown up in the haunted house and then having studied the paranormal so thoroughly I could have Mastered in it. I knew just what to look for, and I think that’s what made it look for me.

“After that night I could capture EVPs pretty much anywhere I went. But they were random, for a while anyway. My little ghost hunting team started to actually experience things. A door slammed in a home we were investigating when we asked the ghost for a sign of its presence. A ball rolled across the floor in an abandoned hospital supposedly haunted by children ghosts. It took me a very long time to realize that these things only happened when I was around; the team never had much luck when I didn’t go out on a hunt with them.

“After college I moved to Boston, and left those friends behind. I worked in the city for a couple years and met my husband. We got married, had our daughter and moved out to Wellesley. I didn’t do any ghost hunting when Alice was really little, though I would occasionally do some EVP sessions. I did one session in our house, right before we moved in, and I caught a voice saying, ‘Biddy’s home.’ I found it reassuring.”

“No, no, no,” I blurted. “That is, in no way, reassuring.”

“I know that now,” Biddy said forcefully. “But, at that time anyway, I was still under the impression that there were harmless ghosts just sittin’ around, waitin’ for the opportunity to talk into my voice recorder. That they had nothing better to do than answer my questions with one word responses and say things like ‘Get out,’ and ‘Help.’”

“What changed?” I asked.

“Well, once Alice was in school full-time, I needed a project. So I went and put together a ghost hunting team. One of my friends was really into it, she loved the whole thrill of it, and then another friend’s husband was a techie guy and liked gadgets, so the three of us sought out haunted places and explored them.

“Eric, the techie guy, made a simple website and posted some of our EVPs and videos. We were good and word sort of got around about us. We began to get emails from people with haunted houses. People who wanted us to document the activity and people who wanted us to talk to their ghosts and ask them to leave. For several years, I travelled all over New England doing just that.”

“What were some of the scariest things you saw?” I asked.

Biddy glanced sideways at me, “You’re really into this stuff aren’t you?”

“Scary ghost stories? Yes, I love them,” I replied.

She considered a moment, and then said, “Ghosts, or whatever they are, moving objects or slamming doors, or appearing one way or another is startling, and it is impressive. The EVPs can be chilling, depending upon the circumstances and the message being conveyed, but above all else, the most terrifying things that I encountered were the shadow people.”

“Eek,” I said dramatically. “You’ve actually seen a shadow person?”

“Several,” Biddy affirmed. “The very first time that I encountered one I was doing an investigation in this house in Vermont. The family had five kids; one of them had special needs, a little ten-year-old girl with Down syndrome. There was some freaky stuff happening in the house, mostly poltergeist-like activity, but the reason the parents reached out to us was because the little girl had been playing with a child ghost, who was warning her of the ‘angry men.’

“On top of that it seemed that everyone in the family was having health issues. Dizziness, nausea, fevers. The parents were at each other’s throats, but they could discern that it wasn’t really them fighting with each other, they were being influenced. Oppressed.

“I honestly wondered if maybe there was a drug problem in the family. But we interviewed friends and neighbors and everyone seemed to be on the same page, even their pastor. He was the most adamant that we investigate the house. So we did.

“I was sitting in a chair, getting a feel for the home. I used to do that, before we brought in all of our gadgets and started the investigation. I liked to get a lay of the land, a sense of the home, you know, its vibe. I was sitting there quietly and something walked past me, a bit too close to my chair. It brushed my shoulder, kept walking and went through the doorway to the kitchen.  At first I thought it was one of the guys on my team. I was annoyed, actually, because I liked to have at least a few minutes to myself in the house.”

“When did you realize it wasn’t a team member?” I prompted.

“When I turned to the doorway to ask what they needed,” Biddy stopped walking and put her hands on her hips and stared into the trees. I stopped too. We were in a heavily wooded part of the trail, just able to glimpse the lake through the thick tree line.

I swatted at the gnats gathering around us and asked, “What? Did you just see something?” If I had to jump in that damn lake to get away from a shadow figure you can bet your ass that I would do it and I would drag Biddy along with me in a lifeguard hold.

“No, no,” Biddy replied with a small smile. “It’s just that this stuff, stays with you. It’s hard to shake, and that night changed my life. That night, I turned to the doorway and there was a figure standing there, as clear as day. It was the outline of a man, but it wasn’t the outline of a man, because it wasn’t a man. It was huge, at least seven feet tall, and it was so still.

“For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what was so off about it, and then I realized, it was the arms. The arms were a touch longer than a person’s, just long enough to not be right. And the torso was a little bit short. It was like a mimic of a man.”

“What did you do? What did it do?” I demanded.

“Well, I stood up and took a step toward it, almost willing it to be only a trick of the light. And when I took a step forward, it did too. I fell back into the seat and then scrambled out the front door,” Biddy laughs and shakes her head. “It wasn’t my proudest moment as a paranormal investigator. I had a reputation for being tough as nails, but that thing? It had an almost predatory vibe coming off of it. Like a coyote waiting to pounce.”

“Did you have to go back into the house?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Biddy replied. “Sorry, we can keep walking,” she motioned for us to continue on the path. “The team was excited, this is what we had been looking for, right? The problem was that it had been looking for us too.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“These things, I mean no one can know for sure, but it is suspected that they are ancient. Some people refer to them as elementals. You can find people who can cast them out, but they are so powerful that there are no guarantees, and once they see you, you can’t be unseen.”

“How the hell did this thing end up in that home?” I asked.

“I only have theories and they are mostly concocted from recurring coincidences. There are certain constants. Suicide, drugs, mental or sexual abuse, the Ouija board, Reiki, occult practices. Dark stuff. You know, I spoke to a Catholic priest once who had visions. He had seen demons doing the same moves that we call yoga in order to conjure dark power.”

“Uh uh,” I said.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “In the case of this family, once we dug deep enough, we found out that their teenage son had been messing with Tarot cards and had gotten his hands on an occult book that had a spell in it to conjure a succubus.”

“Cut it out,” I said, shocked.

“Nope, he wanted to call up a sexual demon. Fucking teenage boys,” Biddy said shaking her head. She had a great way of really wringing out swear words for everything they were worth. ‘Fucking’ came out ‘fuuuh-king.’

She continued, “The home was ripe for the taking, the parents were pretty stressed out, you know, five kids and all, one of which had special needs. They were not at all religious, and had absolutely no protection whatsoever. And to top it off, they lived in a home that was over ninety years old.

“All of these things, taken one by one, wouldn’t necessarily amount to anything, but together? Together they created an environment that lead to very dark paranormal activity.”

“Well, I would think that trying to conjure a female sex demon would be enough to do you in,” I commented.

“Not necessarily,” Biddy replied. “You could go home and do that today, but chances are good it would be just play acting for you. I think that house had some darkness attached to it, the people were stressed, sad and negative, and the boy’s intention was very strong. He didn’t manage to conjure a sex demon, instead he caught the attention of the shadow people. And one of those shadow men followed me home. Or, I should say, it met me at home.”

“Fuck that,” I said.

“Yeah, I felt so irresponsible, and my husband was pissed. I think before he actually saw the shadow figure for himself, he thought this ghost hunting was just some eccentric hobby for me. You know, ‘the little lady needs something to work her mind.’ Just as long as it didn’t disturb his ability to leave for work early every morning and know that I had everything under control on the home front so he could relax and watch television in peace when he got back home at night, then I could do whatever I wanted.

“But then Andrew saw the shadow man. I was at that Vermont case and when I got home he was waiting for me in the living room. I used to get home late, at like five in the morning. I’d stay up to get Alice off to school and then go to sleep for a few hours. Usually, he’d be asleep when I got home, but the second I walked in and saw him waiting, I knew something was wrong.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“He had been asleep when he was startled awake to feel the sheets being pulled down around him. He said it felt as though two people were pulling down on the sheet on either side of the bed. At first he thought maybe it was Alice and me messing around with him. Then he woke up completely and realized what was happening. He could barely breath; the sheet was so tight across his chest. Then he noticed the thing at the foot of the bed. It was the shadow figure, standing there, motionless.

“Andrew said he was struggling so hard that he was unable to speak. He was terrified that the thing was going to get to Alice. The figure leaned over the bed and didn’t actually speak because it didn’t have a mouth, but somehow Andrew heard it say my name. Then all of a sudden it was gone and he could move. He jumped up, checked on Alice, found her sound asleep and sat outside her doorway until he heard my car pull in.”

“Please tell me that is the only thing that happened in your house,” I begged.

“Oh no, that was just the beginning. I met him the following night. I had what I thought was a nightmare about a shadow figure leaning over me in bed tapping on my shoulder. Just tap, tap tapping. It had these dull yellow eyes. Not what you see in horror movies, they weren’t glowing or anything. No, they were a sickly yellow, clouded. When I woke up I could barely move my arm. I went into the bathroom and took off my shirt. My shoulder was completely black and blue,” Biddy pointed to her left arm.

“Lord help us,” I said.

“I told my husband about the dream and when I told him about the yellow eyes, he lost it. He told me the thing that had pinned him to the bed had yellow eyes, but he had left that detail out because it had frightened him so much.”

“Don’t even tell me,” I said. We were just a little more than halfway around the lake, and I wanted, very badly, to be back at my car. But all of a sudden the thought of that weird parking garage terrified me. I wondered if Biddy would walk me to my car.

“The good thing,” Biddy continued relentlessly, “was that I didn’t wait a second to get help clearing the thing from my house. I knew we were in deep trouble and I reached out to several people who I knew could help us. Working together, they were able to banish it from the home.”

“Who were they?” I asked, wanting full contact information – names, numbers, email addresses, twitter handles – just in case.

“A psychic that I met at one of our investigations brought along a Wiccan priestess and after they came through I had a local Catholic priest bless the house and leave us with holy water and salt so that I could periodically cleanse the home.”

“And that did it?” I asked skeptically. “That got rid of the thing?”

“From my home, yes. From the rest of my life, no.”

Heaven above, what do you mean?” I asked.

“For one thing, it just fired me up about ghost hunting. I became obsessed, and I think this is part of their attack. Hanging in the shadows, so to speak, letting you glimpse them, so that you become obsessed. That sort of obsession is the beginning of oppression. Also, I think they give you things,” she explained.

“Give you things?” I asked, picturing a shadow figure holding a bouquet of dead flowers in his freakishly long arms.

“Well, it’s more like some of their abilities, or thoughts, rub off on you. Like, how since college paranormal activity would amp up when I was around? I think they’d been around me for a long time, letting me hear and glimpse things so that they could draw me in.

“It was more than intuition, it was like I knew when something was about to happen in a home. I knew to go to the attic or the basement. I knew which questions to ask so that I would get an EVP. I would know which person to press in a case, which one had opened the door to the darkness.”

“Psychically?” I asked.

“Not really, no, just strong feelings that were always right,” she answered quietly. “I began to get deep into the whole paranormal world. I spoke at conferences and taught how to record EVPs. I freaking showed thirteen-year-old kids how to contact ghosts. I would do anything to take that back. What is their next step after EVPs? The Ouija board? Tarot cards?

“Look,” Biddy said, stopping again. “I am not trying to brag, trust me, I am not proud of my past or what I opened people up to, but I was a real heavy hitter in the paranormal field. When I am shopping in Boston, and sometimes when we are away on vacation, people still recognize me and want to tell me their ghost stories.”

“Why did you stop?” I asked. “I mean, if a shadow figure in your house makes you more curious than frightened, what could possibly have happened to make you stop?”

Biddy took a deep breath and blew it out, then began walking again. She said, “I’ve never told anyone this.”

I wanted to say, well, let’s go ahead and keep it that way. But what came out was, “Uh oh.”

“Other ghost hunting teams began referring the really dark cases to us, the ones they couldn’t handle. I was feeling one part badass, one part curious, and one part fraud. I knew that I had absolutely no idea what I was actually dealing with, but I was in way too deep and didn’t know how to back out. My marriage was falling apart, Andrew hated the fact that I was still ghost hunting after I brought that thing home with me. He was terrified and I should have been too. But I was too arrogant to be scared and I had convinced myself that I had it all under control.

“On top of that, I had become consumed with catching voices on the digital recorder. Everywhere I went, I tried, and I was almost always successful. But then I began to capture the same voice everywhere I went.

“It was a pleasant-sounding man’s voice. He was always a bit matter of fact in his answers, kind of like a British man, without the accent. I would typically get one to three word responses to questions. He told me that his name was Poe,” she explained.

“Nope,” I replied, matter-of-factly.

“Well, right,” Biddy agreed. “There was this one time, at a haunted house over in Cambridge, I was doing my initial sweep of the house, sitting quietly and getting the vibe before anyone came in. I took out my recorder and asked if anyone was there with me. I rewound the recording and when I played it back a deep growly voice came through and said, ‘Ah, Bridget, Poe told us about you.’”

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“It was a full sentence, class-A EVP. Clear as day, intelligent and communicative. It was the Holy Grail, and now that I had it, I wished I’d never seen a digital recorder.

“The voice startled me so much that I actually dropped the device on the ground. As I bent down to pick it up, I felt something walk past me, brushing my shoulder. I knew it was the thing that had followed me home. I knew right then that it had never left me, that it was Poe. That it always had been Poe, and I knew I was in deep trouble.

“I slowly sat up, and looked across the room. He, it was there. Staring at me, and it felt like it was almost, amused. Like it was saying, gotcha! I know now what people mean when they say that they were frozen in place. I literally could not move a muscle. Those yellow eyes, God help me, they were evil.” She stopped talking and began walking faster.

My knee hurt and I was trying to keep up, after a moment I said, “Biddy, slow down.”

“Sorry, I’ve never talked about this before. I’m a little anxious,” she said, slowing.

“I can’t imagine why,” I replied sarcastically.

“I don’t remember walking to the front door and out of the house, but there I was and there was my team all around me asking me what was wrong. ‘What happened?’ They wanted to know, ‘should we grab the camera equipment?’

“I walked past them got into my car and drove to a McDonald’s. It was the brightest, most alive place that I could find at that hour. I sat there for a long while drinking dishwater coffee and then I went home and woke my husband up. I apologized for getting involved with these horrible things and asked him to forgive me.”

“And that was it?” I asked. “That sounds way too easy.”

“No, I had to have that psychic team and the priest back to the house three times. Poe found his way back in. It was small disturbing things that let me know he’d returned. I’d glimpse a shadow in a mirror, or have my eyes closed in the shower as I rinsed shampoo from my hair and I would just know that something was standing right in there with me waiting for me to open my eyes.

“We even ended up moving, to a smaller home in a busier neighborhood. We had a more wooded yard before, now houses surround us. I know enough about these things to know that they want to isolate you, keep you in fear and keep you in turmoil with your loved ones. I work hard to live peacefully.”

“But wait, how the hell did you end up working with Nick?” I asked, confused.

“It was a real fucking lapse of judgment,” she said in annoyance. “He started working with Eric, the techie guy from our team, and weaseled my email address out of him. I wasn’t working at the time and Nick insisted that all he needed was someone who could do research and run a background check on families before the team went in and did their investigation.”

“Why would you agree to that after working so hard to get away from it all?” I asked, incredulous.

“It was stupid,” Biddy admits. “But, honestly, I had spent my life in that field, I had amassed such knowledge, and it felt silly to waste it. I figured it would be harmless to do a few property records searches and interview neighbors and such.

“You know, I worry about Nick. He’s too fucking sure of himself, and let’s just say that he is way too cavalier with that damn Ouija board,” Biddy paused, choosing her words. “I’ve seen first hand what this stuff does to people. It is oppressive. Check their family lives, check their medicine cabinets – you won’t find a lot of carefree happiness there. And then there’s the whole what-came-first-the-chicken-or-the-egg thing.”

“I don’t follow,” I said, confused.

“Well, do people look for the darkness or does it seek them out? Some people think that only depressive, or angry Goth types are drawn to the supernatural. Or only people bent towards magical thinking or prone to depressive or dark thoughts encounter ghosts and demons.

“But then, what about the random housewife who experiences sleep paralysis and sees dark figures in her basement? How about the four-year-old little boy who says there’s a ghost under his bed who tells him things no four-year old could possibly know? What about those people? If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that there’s no certain paranormal “type.” Anyone can be affected, and, on the flip side, there are even some people who, no matter how hard they try, can’t experience a thing.

“The only fact we have is that we don’t know. We really don’t know what the hell the thing we call ‘paranormal’ really is.”

I followed Biddy across a narrow stone bridge that lead us back onto the college campus. It was humid and my knee hurt and I was scared. We actually walked in silence for a while. I considered what she had said and how she could possibly know whether or not that Poe thing was gone.

As we approached the parking garage, Biddy said, “If something takes a liking to you, just know that there are no guarantees. I still have a lot of contacts and I can put you in touch with; powerful people who know how to bind negative energies. But doors do not close. They just don’t. Are you doing anything to protect yourself when you gather these stories?”

My hand went to my chest, to my necklace.

Biddy noted my movement and said, “Good, but you should pray for protection too, and make sure you are constantly checking in on your intention. Curiosity? Fine. Wanting to tell people what it is really like to have a brush with the paranormal? Good. Just don’t get too sure of yourself.”

Biddy considered me for a moment, making me quite uncomfortable, then asked, “Did you really see a little girl spirit standing behind that woman with the haunted sailor’s valentine?”

It took me a moment to catch up, but then I realized she meant Pam. “Yes,” I admitted. “And a little blond girl ghost is -”

“Never really a little blond girl ghost,” Biddy finished. She furrowed her brow, “You’re probably fine but you’re Catholic, right?”

“Well, I grew up Catholic, but -” I began

“Then you’re Catholic,” she said, forcefully. “Go to church for goodness sake and take your family with you. It is fine that you are doing this, just do it to warn people, don’t do it to answer some deep dark question about whether or not we are alone in this world. Trust me, you don’t want to know the answer.”


 

I had the babysitter for Kat until I needed to pick up the older girls at school. When I got home, after showering and applying antiseptic and large Band-Aids to my battle wounds, I made a disappointing cup of Keurig coffee and headed down to the hotel lobby.

I sat with my laptop and Googled Biddy’s name. Countless webpages appeared and dozens of articles referenced her name and expertise. There were images of her on conference hall stages; microphone in hand, PowerPoint slides looming behind her. I had been talking to paranormal royalty and I hadn’t known it.

There was a website devoted to her strongest EVP captures, I listened to a few and then stopped. These were not the made for TV ghost hunting show EVPs. These were recordings of clear voices, responding directly to complicated questions.

I decided to listen to the recording of my interview with Biddy. I wanted to get a jump on transcribing the conversation. I popped in my ear buds and listened up to my to my epic stumble. Amused embarrassment washed over me as I heard Biddy’s are you sure you’re all right’s and my breathless reassurances.

Then I listened to us laughing about the fall.

Only, it wasn’t just us laughing. There had been someone else there with us, laughing at my expense. His laugh was soft and pleasant, almost British sounding, but not quite.

Categories
Archives Ghosts in the Burbs

A Small Change and a Ouija Story

We are relocating again, from one Residence Inn to another Residence Inn located closer to our new home. Turns out the one hour and fifteen minute commute isn’t ideal with toddlers, a baby and two dogs. It’s so tricky, in fact, that we are giving up a two-bedroom hotel suite for a studio just to avoid the hellish traffic. So please, forgive me, but I will publish the next ghost story (about an ex-paranormal investigator from Wellesley who has a word of caution for anyone considering dabbling in the field) next Friday.

In the meantime, I am beginning to receive some truly disturbing stories from readers, several of which have chilled me to the core. I’ve been granted permission to publish one of these stories. You all know that I have a bee in my bonnet about Ouija boards. The following tale backs up my fear, and then some. Here it is, in one reader’s own words. She wishes to remain anonymous and I’ve removed identifying information, but if you would like to discuss the situation further, or if you’ve had your own similar encounter, please message me and I will put you in touch with her directly. She (and I) consider this a true cautionary tale.

*******

“Hi Liz,

I wish you had given me that Ouija board tip back in 1985 when I had just graduated from XXX.  I was just at that age where I had picked up so many bad habits that I just couldn’t move back in with my parents, so I did the next best thing, I walked down the street and moved in with my grandmother.  My grandmother ran a boarding house (think Lackawanna Blues) and she was kind enough to let me move into a tiny room off of her kitchen and pay her $100 a month.  My parents lived on the opposite end of the street in XXX, NY.  I had been fascinated with Ouija boards, and had started playing with one in my apartment before I graduated.  The fact that I had called forth an 18th century ghost that kept cutting off my TV, turning my lights on and off and drove my cat crazy wasn’t enough to deter me.  Nope.  The fact that my boyfriend (now husband) left my apartment at the crack of dawn one morning because he said a lady in old-fashioned clothing was standing over the bed and staring at him didn’t deter me either.  The fact that one night I was up late and saw this same woman with her hand on my bannister peering from the top step into my bedroom (like do I know you?) which made me scream, kick my door closed and play Prince songs until well after the sun came up still didn’t deter me.

Nope, I played with the Ouija board in my grandmother’s house.  Now remember this was a boarding house where people rented actual rooms.  People had lived and died in that house and I could remember at least three of them off of the top of my head.  There was Mr. XX who died of old age.  There was XX who died of cancer in his 30’s and I remember this kid XX who I grew up with – he rented a room from my grandmother with his girlfriend and they had a baby who died of crib death.  I remember all of these things.  So needless to say when I played with a Ouija in that particular structure all hell broke loose.

I really don’t like to talk about it but strange things happened, from my bed constantly shaking, to knocking on the walls.  Someone who looked just like my grandmother would walk into the room (my room was right off the door to the basement), go downstairs into the basement and I would come out later only to see my grandmother sitting at the table cutting up vegetables.  Round about this time my grandmother was starting to get Alzheimer’s.  I tried my best with her but she would forget where she parked her car and sometimes she would forget to eat.  My parents told me that they would take care of her and that it was time for me to move out.  My coming and going at all hours was inconsistent and I was too self-absorbed to be of any real consistent help.

Round about this time my sisters had moved out of the apartment that they were sharing upstairs from my parents (it was a two family home) and I was more than happy to high tail it from the ghosties that I had conjured up in my grandmother’s house.  I threw the Ouija board away…I think…I actually don’t remember what I did with it, but I’m pretty sure that I tossed it.  I moved into the apartment, never touched a Ouija and my boyfriend who was now my fiancé told me that I better not ever touch that shit again.  I agreed.

The bad thing was that even though I had walked away from the house and the Ouija, my grandmother couldn’t get away from it.  My mother used to tell me that my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s had gotten really bad, she couldn’t remember anything and she had taken to drinking beer.  My grandmother never drank the entire time that I knew her but now she would get her tenants to buy her cases of beer and she would drink it non-stop.  I stopped by to visit her a few times but she didn’t remember who I was and she had adopted this really creepy laugh that was NOT the woman who helped to raise me.  One time my mother said she came by to bring her dinner (my Mom took care of her every day, bathed her cooked for her etc.) and she said that my grandmother came to the door scooting her butt along the floor and walking like a crab.  C’mon the woman was 90.  My mother said it freaked her out completely.  I never told my parents about my Ouija games at my grandmother’s house and I can’t help but feel complete guilt about what I might have possibly let into her home.  I sometimes think that something from the Ouija possessed her and I live with an immense amount of guilt whenever I think about it.  My grandmother was a devout Catholic, she had just gotten old.  Eventually she passed away and I just hope that she went someplace peaceful.  My parents sold her house and it was flipped a couple of times.

About two years ago, I had just come from visiting my father (my Mom had died about 12 years prior and my Dad had remarried), I was in the car with my sister and I slowed down at the corner to look at my grandmother’s old house.  There was a little girl standing in the vestibule.  She was cute as a button and waving at us through the glass door.  But there was also something else.  A BEING… he was standing there with his hand on her shoulder and scowling…he had this hideous, monstrous frightening scowl.  It’s really hard to describe because he looked almost animated and he was wearing all black.  The little girl was still waving and my sister said to me…”Do you see that shit?  He’s not human, THAT IS NOT HUMAN!”  Eventually the little girl turned and opened the door behind her to walk back inside.  That thing was latched onto her back and slowly followed her inside.  Whatever I let into that house is still living there… and it just tears me up to know that it might be still hurting others.

You said that everyone has at least one ghost story and this one is mine.  Don’t know if you can use it, it’s short, but I have never admitted to anyone how playing with a Ouija board affected both me and my loved ones.  Playing with something like that opens a portal and if you don’t know what you’re doing you can let any damn evil ass demon or ghost into your life.  My children are now 22 and 20 and I told my sons that if anyone brings out a Ouija board around them to call me and I will come get them right away.  I told them that as children and 1x I did have to get my oldest when he was in elementary school and he was spending the night over a friend’s house.  The whole family was playing with a Ouija and he called me with a shaky voice.  I jumped into the car and brought him home.  I don’t play that shit…not after what I’ve seen can happen first hand.”

Categories
Archives Ghosts in the Burbs

The Psychic

You have an unnaturally high tolerance for this stuff,” C told me as we drank wine on our patio.

The kids were in bed and we were enjoying one of our last evenings in our backyard. We’d sold the house, quickly, and bought another even quicker. We were moving across town to become a “Bates Family.”

I studied our garage, held together only by termite carcasses and a prayer, its ancient siding warped from the heat of a grill that someone had placed too close. That, I actually found amusement in, but when I looked down to the patio beneath us humor left me. Its crumbling concrete was so cracked and uneven that the girls’ knees were a perpetual bloodied mess. There would be no love lost for this home. We’d cut our teeth on suburban living here, but the past two years had been a never-ending renovation. Before us, a lovely couple had owned and raised their children in the home, they just hadn’t had the time or ability to care for it properly.

So, instead of tallying up the cost of digging up the patio and annihilating the garage, I was able to take a deep breath and enjoy a glass of wine with C on the shitty patio that was now a really lovely couple moving in from Brookline’s problem.

As ever, I was acutely aware of the five neighboring homes that overlooked our backyard. Their dark windows judged us, making note of our second (third) glasses of wine. It was late October and we were talking Halloween, my very favorite holiday. C wasn’t as big of a fan, he thought I was desensitized, thus his comment about my tolerance level. I argued that I was a total chicken when it came to anything remotely frightening happening in real life, but that I just liked a good, safe scare. I was, however, beginning to wonder if I was a bit of a weirdo.

That afternoon I’d brought the kids to the playground, taking advantage of the last mild days before the weather turned, and a woman recognized me there.

“You’re not the one who writes that blog, are you?” She asked, holding her hand out to introduce herself.

I confirmed her suspicion and my girls played with her son for a while. I didn’t get the feeling at all that she thought I was weird.  She was totally cool, but this interaction, in general, sort of freaked me out.

People were actually reading the stories that I was collecting. Of course, my friends were supportive, and my mom seemed to get a kick out of ghostly anecdotes, but neither of my sisters would read them. One wouldn’t even attempt it, and the other had to stop after she read about Jenn and what her family had been through. She basically implied that she thought what I was doing was demonically influenced. The term “spiritual warfare” was used.

That stung a little.

I had been paranoid about looking into the darkness and seeing more than I could handle, but maybe what I should have been worried about was spreading darkness to others. Was it a bad thing to be collecting these stories and disseminating them through the blog? Should these stories be kept in secret, spoken quietly in whispers among acquaintances so that they turned into “friend of a friend of a cousin in law” tales?

No. There was something here that was more than just a scare. I had my theories. I was beginning to suspect that maybe ghosts were a red herring. What if it was all something more? What if it was all tied together, as something that had the ability to present itself as anything that it needed to in order to drive a wedge (like between Becky and her husband) or distract (like Nick), or terrify (like Lilith’s possession), or consume (like Peyton). It was all adding up to something darker than dead people trying to communicate.

I’m getting ahead of myself. The suggestion by a family member that I was somehow promoting evil ways through this little project of mine had really gotten under my skin, and C was trying to look at it another way.

“You have to understand that this stuff isn’t for everybody. You know I can’t even read your blog, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s I just that won’t sleep,” he reasoned.

“I know, I understand why you can’t read them, but it felt like I was being accused of, I don’t know, being, a devil worshipper or something,” I said in a pout.

“You know that’s not the case,” C reasoned. “Your being a devil worshipper has nothing to do with collecting ghost stories.”


Things had begun to snowball – in a good way – with the blog. I had received quite a few (nineteen!) emails. Several were inquiries wishing to verify whether or not the stories were actually real. A few messages asked that I name names or at least addresses. But a couple emails contained stories. Real ghost stories from people in Wellesley, and Weston, Brookline, the South End of Boston, even one from New Hampshire.

These stories were all eerily familiar. Or, I should say they had a familiar rhythm.

“I woke up in the middle of the night and my Aunt Melissa was sitting at the edge of my bed. It was impossible, she had been in the hospital being treated for a heart condition. I called my mom the next morning and told her about it. Mom told me that Auntie M had passed away the night before.” (Brookline)

“When I was little I used to play with this ‘imaginary friend’ Rocket. I remember him, he wore the same striped shirt all the time and liked to play with toy cars. My parents still tell stories about me and my imaginary buddy. I never told them that Rocket had only one eye. One day I overheard a neighbor tell my dad about a little boy who used to live in our house, he’d had an accident and had fallen off the back steps, impaling himself on a pipe that was stuck into the ground. He’d died. His name was Robbie but they said he was always running around and loved going fast so he would never walk. They nicknamed him Rocket.” (South End, Boston)

“I know that our house is haunted. I hear footsteps at night and the front door opens by itself all the time. The weird thing is that you would think the dogs would run out, but they don’t. Whenever it happens we find them upstairs, in my daughter’s bed, curled up next to each other. It’s like they are hiding.” (Weston)

The stories have a simple thread, that I think you could miss if you were looking too closely at the details. Or trying to prove that none of them are real, just a figment of the imagination.

It’s distraction. Whether through familiarity or fun, fear or intrigue, anger or worry. When I consider the stories I’ve heard, the emails I’ve received, the books that I’ve read, distraction is always present. From one’s life, from loved ones, from reality. The question was, who was doing all this distracting? And why?


Enough of that and on to the story. I received an interesting email from a woman named Beth, a retired guidance counselor. She used to work at our high school, and has lived in town for thirty years, having raised two children in her home on Cedar Street in the (Fiske Elementary neighborhood). She lives in adorable Cape Cod style home with her husband, Allen (an accountant). Her house is haunted, and it was the first haunted house that I’ve ever been to, as far as I know.

In Beth’s email she mentioned that she knew my daughter’s teacher and was interested in sharing her story with me to see if I could offer any insight. She invited me over for mid-morning tea.

I accepted.


“Liz?” Beth inquired, opening her screen door. “Come on in!”

Deep smile lines fanned out from Beth’s eyes and her forehead was deeply grooved, the lines appeared hard won through years spent in the sunshine. Freckles had matured into sun spots and dark circles under her eyes hinted at exhaustion. Her dark brown hair was cut in an excellent pixie that suited her tight little runner’s body. She had on a blue pin-striped button down with adorable cropped khakis and crisp white keds. Actually, “crisp” summed up her look quite nicely.

“Hi, Beth! Thanks so much for having me,” I replied, stepping into her foyer. It was painted a pretty sky blue and there were ocean prints on the wall. I took my shoes (grey tretorns) off and placed them to the side of a multi-colored braided rug.

Beth motioned for me to follow her to the back of the house. We walked through the kitchen (white beadboard cabinets and grey granite counters, clean as a whistle, though the surfaces were a bit cluttered with ocean-themed knick knacks) and stepped through sliding glass doors to a winterized back porch.

In keeping with the beach-themed home, two white wicker chairs and a wicker love seat held cushions covered in a navy blue fabric patterned with sea shells, starfish and coral. Side tables held lighthouse lamps. On a coffee table sat a navy blue lacquered tray, holding a teapot, two white mugs, and a ceramic fish shaped sugar and creamer set alongside a little plate of oreos.

Oreos! I hadn’t had an Oreo in years, and I’ll be damned it they didn’t appeared to be Double Stuf.

Beth told me to grab a seat and we each took a chair opposite one another, me looking out the porch windows towards the backyard and Beth facing the sliding doors. I asked if it was alright for me to record our conversation, she nodded her head but looked a bit unsure.

To distract her I commented on the coziness of her home and its aquatic accents.

“You’re sweet,” she replied. ”My husband, Allen, and I just love the ocean. We take a week in Eastham on the Cape each summer.”

“There’s nothing like the beach,” I said.

“We’re moving soon,” Beth said. “As soon as the house sells.”

I nodded.  I had made note of the For Sale sign when I pulled up to the house. “Are you moving to the Cape?”

“We plan to, yes. Allen is able to work remotely, so we intend to buy a little cottage in either Brewster or Eastham. But we’ll see,” she said, getting a bit shifty eyed.

“Both are such cute little towns,” I replied, eyeing the cookies. “Have you had much traffic?” I asked, referring to interested buyers.

“We have, but no real offers yet. Our agent assures us that it won’t take long. I hope that she’s right.”

“Well, your house is charming, and you are close to Fiske. A family with small children would be thrilled to live here,” I said.

“I hope you’re right,” she said. “There’s the issue of cemetery, but it’s not as though we have a view of it, like some of the houses on this street.”

Well, she was right on that point. Their house did not overlook the cemetery, a small hill across the street blocked the view of it’s tombstones.

“Your property is lovely,” I assured her. “Back here it  feels like we are in the middle of the woods on the Cape,” I said, motioning to the pine trees surrounding us.

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Beth replied. “Here, let me pour you a cup of tea. Please, take a cookie, too.”

I enthusiastically took a cocktail napkin (navy blue with white starfish) and dug in. I actually, Mmmm’d, then asked, “What kind of a ghost story do you have for me?”

“I don’t know if you’ll think I’m mad,” she said.

“I’m not here to judge. Actually, I am hoping that you don’t think I’m a weirdo for wanting to hear your ghost story,” I replied.

“In all honesty, I’m relieved that you’re here, any insight you might be able to offer would be so appreciated,” she said then sipped her tea.

“I’ll do my best,” I replied then shoved an Oreo in my mouth. Sweet heaven above, why had these ever fallen out of my life?

Beth took a moment, then said, “This house is haunted, or maybe I should say, I am haunted.”

I swallowed and managed to ask, “You mean this house is currently haunted?” I’d forgotten how the dark chocolate cookie part of the Oreo sort of got stuck in between one’s teeth. I tried to quietly use my tongue to create enough suction to get the treat unstuck, while contemplating leaving the home immediately.

Beth’s eyes began to tear up, she said, “I’m sorry, this is hard to talk about.”

I took a quick sip of my tea to wash away the delicious Oreo and said, “I understand,” though I knew that I didn’t understand. At all. And hoped to all things holy that I never would understand what it’s like to be haunted.

She took a breath and wiped her eyes and said, “I don’t know what came over me, I am not a crier. I am just exhausted, and not myself. You came here for the story, where shall I begin?”

“What happened first?” I asked, reaching for another cookie.

“Barbara’s party, that’s what started everything,” she replied, placing her mug on the table. “My good friend, Barbara – well we’ve called her Barb since we were in high school – had a big bash for her fiftieth birthday, at the Four Seasons in Boston. Her husband hired a band and it was such a fun night. It reminded me of when we were all young and attending each other’s weddings. Barb has a psychic who attended the party.“

“Has a psychic?” I asked.

“Barb’s consulted this woman, her psychic, since we were in our early twenties. She almost uses her as a therapist. I had always considered it a bit silly, but it was really none of my business and Barb swore that this woman, Milena, was truly gifted. She trusted her for every major decision in her life. Barb claims that Milena predicted when she would get married, how many kids she would have and when it was the best time to put their house on the market.”

“Freaky,” I said, sipping my tea and forcing myself to wait a few minutes before grabbing another cookie.

“In all honestly, I’ve always thought so too. How could you trust a stranger to tell you everything that was going to happen in your life and why would you want to? Besides that, over the years, as they’ve gotten to know one another, I’m certain that Milena could make some pretty accurate educated guesses about Barb’s life and pass them off as predictions.

“That was what I used to think, anyhow,” Beth said, shaking her head.

“And now?” I prompted.

“Now I respect that there are things that we simply can’t understand,” she replied.

“What happened at that party?” I asked.

“Barb’s husband hired Milena for the night to do readings for the party guests. He rented a little side room at the hotel, right off the ballroom, where she set up a table to do these readings. I had no desire whatsoever to have a reading. I go to church, I’m not going to judge what others do, but The Bible clearly states in Leviticus, ‘Do not turn to mediums or necromancers; do not seek them out.’”

“But, you did have a reading?” I asked a bit unnerved. People who are able to recite Bible verses (or can remember phone numbers off the top of their head) always unnerve me. I blank out when someone asks how old I am. My sieve-like mind is suspicious of these memory master types.

“Barb dragged me to the room, she insisted that I consult Milena about my upcoming knee surgery. I’m a runner, have been all my life, and I had some torn cartilage in my knee that had to be corrected. Quite naturally, I was having a great deal of anxiety over the procedure. I knew that it was necessary, but I was terrified that I would never be able to run again if anything went wrong.

“Barb wanted Milena to predict the outcome of the surgery. She said that the woman would even do a Reiki technique with me that could ease some of the anxiety,” Beth said.

“Uh uh,” I mumbled with a mouth full of cookie.

“I know,” Beth said, putting a hand up. “Now I know what a horrible idea it was, but it was a birthday party and we were all a little tipsy from too much Champagne. So I did it. I went and had a reading, but I insisted that Barb come with me. Milena told me a bunch of nonsense about the surgery going well and how I would be surrounded by love and light.”

“That seems to be the catch-phrase,” I said.

“Good heavens, isn’t it? I can recall all of that positive vibe mumbo jumbo but then Milena asked me to close my eyes and imagine myself in a peaceful forest, walking along a path that lead to a beautiful waterfall. I complied, but only to appease Beth. But the strangest thing happened. As I was imagining the forest and the trail leading to the waterfall, I lost the time,” Beth said.

“So you must have been more than a little tipsy,” I said with a laugh.

“No, no, it wasn’t that, though, now I understand that the alcohol acted as a sort of catalyst, but Milena managed to somehow hypnotize me. I don’t think that is exactly what it was. I was under, that’s for sure, and when I was, that woman introduced ideas into my mind. Barb said they were mostly ideas about health and wholeness, but that Milena said several times that when I returned to consciousness I would be open. Open to the possibility of health and wellbeing and open to the possibility of more.”

“More what?” I asked.

“More what,” Beth repeated with a small sigh. “I’d heard Barb go on and on about Milena and her predictions for years, but what I didn’t know was that Barb had discussed me and my life with Milena as well. When I pressed Barb to find out what exactly she had told Milena she admitted to saying that I was a bit ‘set in my ways.’

“I believe that Milena decided that once she had me in a trance, she would not only Reiki me into some sort of advanced healing, she would open my mind to otherworldly possibilities. It was a complete and total violation.”

“I’ll say,” I agreed imagining one of my friends discussing me with their psychic. Lord, help me, I had to stop that train of thought immediately.

“I didn’t ask Barb about what happened that night until about mid-way through the following week. We play tennis together on Wednesday mornings, and,” Beth sat back in her seat. “Frankly, this is where I have to admit that I have anxiety about being candid about this experience.”

“Don’t be silly,” I prompted, wishing I could just get her to loosen up a bit. Barb was right, Beth did seem tightly wound.

Beth took a breath and said, “I knew the night of Barb’s party that something followed us home from the hotel. It took me a couple of days, but by the time our tennis date came along, I had pieced things together. I knew that it all had something to do with that Milena woman.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The night of the party my husband drove us home.  He doesn’t ever have more than one drink, so he was fine to drive. We were in the car and I thought that maybe the bubbly had gotten the better of me because I felt a touch disoriented. We were listening to the radio and I distinctly heard Allen say my name. I turned and said, ‘What?’ and he just told me he hadn’t said anything. That happened three times, only the third time I could tell that it wasn’t Allen. It sounded like him, but Allen wasn’t the one saying my name.”

“Who -” I began.

“I don’t know, I still don’t know who or what it is,” Beth said. “I blamed it on the loud party and the champagne. I figured that my ears were adjusting. But when it woke me up that night at three o’clock saying ‘ElizaBethBeth’ – that’s what it calls me – I knew that it wasn’t my ears adjusting.”

“No,” I said, reaching for another Oreo.

“Oh yes, that was just the beginning. The next day was Sunday and we went to Church as usual. I brushed aside what had happened the night before, but it left me a bit, disturbed, to say the very least. I began to feel strange as I climbed the steps to St. Paul’s entrance. I stumbled a bit as we walked through the doorway and then, again, I lost the time for a moment or two. When I became aware of my surroundings again I was sitting on the steps outside and Allen and an usher were standing over me discussing whether or not to call an ambulance.”

“Oh no,” I said, draining my mug and placing it on the table.

Beth leaned forward to refill the cup and said, “It really was the darndest thing. I actually startled them when I asked, ‘What happened.’ They explained that I sort of folded when I walked into the sanctuary. My husband lead me back outside by the arm and this kind usher noticed that there was a problem and followed him out to see if he needed help.

“As I stood back up the usher said, ‘You gave us a real scare there, ElizaBethBeth.’ I heard him. I know that is what he said. I immediately asked, ‘What did you call me?’ He just looked startled and Allen jumped in saying that we should really head back home. When we got in the car I asked Allen what the man had said and my husband told me the man had called me Beth. He had told the man my name.”

“Freaky,” I said, glancing out the storm windows behind Beth. The wind had picked up causing the pine trees to whisper as they swayed. “What do you think happened?”

“Well, again, I tried to explain it away by too much champagne the night before. My husband did too, ‘You have a good old fashioned hangover,’ he joked. ‘What you need is a little hair ‘o the dog that bit ya.’That was the very last thing that I wanted.”

“Do you really think that man called you ElizaBethBeth?” I asked.

“I think that it makes me hear or see or perceive things the way it wants me to. So, no, I don’t think that man called me that name, especially considering his reaction. I think it wanted me to hear that name, so I did.” Beth replied.

“Ok, so you’re hearing your name – well, not your name, but a weird version of your name – called. What else?” I asked, reaching for another cookie. Only, the cookies were gone.

Beth looked down at the plate. “Here, let me go get more treats.”

“No!” I said, a little too loudly. “I mean, no thank you, I really shouldn’t have any more and I am a nervous eater, so please, go on,” I did want more cookies, but, even more than that, I did not want to be left alone.

“So that was Sunday. The Sunday after my mind was opened. The next couple of nights were carbon copies. I would awake to my name being called. Then, of course, I couldn’t sleep. So I blamed the shadows on lack of sleep.”

“Shadows?” I asked.

“They were, or I should say are, always just outside my periphery. It’s unnerving.  I will be folding the laundry or making my coffee in the morning and I’ll see something out of the corner of my eye and will be certain, positively sure, that someone is standing almost behind me or in the corner of the room. But I never actually see anyone.”

“I don’t at all mean to dismiss your experience, it’s just that, what if exhaustion coupled with the power of suggestion may have gotten you a bit jumpy,” I said, as delicately as I could.

Beth sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. She said, “I would have thought the same thing if the tables were turned and you were telling me this story. I agree, these things that I’ve told you so far could be explained by exhaustion and paranoia.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you are paranoid, I -”

“Of course not, this is why this is so hard to talk about. I know it sounds too fantastic,” Beth said.

“I’m sorry, I was hoping that might be the easy answer because if it’s not, and you are hearing your name called and seeing shadows standing near you, then, well, life is more terrifying than I ever could have imagined,” I said.

“Yes,” Beth agreed. “It is terrifying.”

“You had several unnerving days, and nights, and then you mentioned that you met up with your friend for tennis?”

“I did, yes. I asked her what had happened that night. I didn’t tell her what had been going on with me, but I just said that I must have drank too much because I couldn’t remember what had happened during my so-called ‘reading.’ She tried to laugh it off, but I pressed her, and she told me that Milena had put me under and had put ideas into my mind. Or rather, she had opened my mind to ideas and anything else that wanted to visit.”

“Were you so pissed?” I asked, then said, “Sorry,” referring to my swearing.

“Don’t apologize, I was pissed. I couldn’t believe my ears. Barb made it seem as though it was nothing to be concerned about, that Milena had only been trying to help me with my life. I neither wanted nor needed help with my life. I hadn’t even wanted to speak with Milena, let alone have her New Age nonsense affect my mind.

“I was so angry that I had to leave. I left Barb right there on the court. I took a shower at the club and when I was throwing my damp towels into the basket one of the young girls who works at the gym walked past me and said, ‘What a violation.’

“I was startled, I looked right at her and said, ‘What did you say?’ She looked just as startled as I felt and replied, ‘It’s been nice outside lately, I hope that you can enjoy the day.’

“I rushed out of there. I hadn’t misunderstood her. She may have said, ‘Enjoy the day,’ or something equally as benign, but I heard her say ‘What a violation.’ She was referring to Barb’s stupid psychic meddling.”

“Yeesh,” I said, sipping my tea because I didn’t know whether to think this woman was having a psychotic break or a demonic oppression.

“I am well aware of how ridiculous this sounds. I used to scoff at the idea people seeing ghosts or claiming that their homes were haunted; I thought it was an attention seeking ploy. I was a guidance counselor at the high school, you know, for years. I’ve encountered a lot of damaged children and their broken parents. More than I care to remember.

“I’ve heard a lot of excuses for poor behavior. I’ve listened to people blame the weather on why they were such a bad parent or the economy on why they hit their kid. I have always been grounded in reality, but…” Beth trailed off.

“But this was different,” I said.

“Yes,” Beth confirmed. “It started happening more and more. I would hear someone say something that they hadn’t said. A barista told me to repent, the woman who cleans our house said, ‘There are forces we don’t understand but must respect,’ after I handed her the check for the month. Each time I reacted to these interactions, the responses let me know that I was the one with the problem. Then things began happening at home.”

“What things?” I asked, feeling like a sitting duck in this home that was either inhabited by a demon or a crazy lady.

“Besides the shadows, there were other signs. Things that Allen noticed too, not just me. There was one night, when we were out on the back patio,” Beth motioned to a door at the side of the screened in porch. I looked over and saw that past this door were several wooden steps leading to a brick patio with a table, chairs and grill. “We were grilling chicken and having a glass of wine when that door began to slam. Not one time, three times. It would sway open slowly and then slam. Open then slam, open slam. It was so hard that I thought that the glass would break.

“I am embarrassed to say that we just stared at it and watched it happen. Allen made a comment about the wind, but there was no wind. It was one of those heavy, humid August nights.”

“I would have gone to a hotel,” I said.

“I know, it sounds absolutely nutty, but we weren’t ready to acknowledge what was happening. We ate dinner and talked about anything and everything but that door and the voices I had been hearing.”

“So you were pretty open with Allen about what you were experiencing?” I asked.

“Oh, of course. We started dating when we were just sixteen, I can’t hide a thing from him, and he wouldn’t want me to,” Beth said.

“What does he think of all of this?” I asked.

“At first, he thought that I was just, having some sort of ‘episode,’ but then, after I had my knee surgery, he believed me.”

“What made him change his mind?” I asked, wishing I had let her go get more cookies.

“When I got home from the hospital after surgery I had to sleep in the living room. We rented a hospital bed to help me with sitting up and reclining once I was was home. I was on a high dose of pain medication, which I hated, but it truly was necessary, especially in order to endure the physical therapy. I believe the pain medication was the catalyst. It somehow blew whatever door Milena had opened in my mind wide open.”

“You know,” Beth said, crossing her legs. “I read that they did a study, whoever ‘they’ are. They did a study with patients who needed the same knee surgery that I had. Only half of the participants had the surgery done, the other half did not. They put those patients under and lead them to believe that they were having the surgery. Even made incisions on their legs to make it appear as though the surgery had taken place. All of the people who participated in the study, both those who’d had the surgery and those who had not, had the same success rate in healing. It was the ultimate placebo effect. Isn’t that crazy? Basically, a fake surgery is just as effective as a real one. Over a year of following these patients, there was no difference in their recovery.”

“Did you know about the study before you had the surgery?” I asked.

“No, I of course not,” she replied, shaking her head. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have had it. I’ve run 23 marathons in my life. I am good at mind games.

“I think that is why this whole thing had thrown me for a loop. I have always been in complete control. Even when I had the blues after my children were born. I willed myself out of them. I can’t make all of this stop, that’s why it is so frightening.”

“You said things got worse after the surgery. In what way?” I asked.

“Yes, sorry,” Beth ran her fingers through her short hair and picked up her mug. “I was loopy from my medication and sleeping by myself downstairs. I fell asleep each night in front of the television, something I hadn’t done since I was in college,” she said smiling.

“I believe that it was my second night home, that I woke up in the middle of the night. The television was off, though I didn’t remember turning it off. Anyhow, I woke up because my bed was inclining my itself. I awoke and was sitting upright. My knee was throbbing, well, that is putting it lightly. It felt like needles were being slowly stabbed through my leg through the back of my knee.

“It took me a moment to come to, I think that’s what it wanted – to wake me up fully and really have my attention. By the time I was done breathing through the pain, and coming to my senses I realized that I wasn’t alone.”

“Who was with you?” I asked, wondering if it was totally out of the realm of possibilities to just get up and walk out the front door. I mean, so what if it was awkward if I ever ran into her at the Whole Foods.

It was there, right behind the bed. I could feel it. But I couldn’t do anything, my knee was tortuous. I was breathing in, through my nose, holding it for a minute and then breathing out through my mouth to manage the pain. It’s an old trick to beat a muscle spasm or side stitch,” she nodded her head like a mother giving me age old health advice.

“And then?” I asked, wanting her to just get on with it.

“It was very quiet. Once I was able to get through the worst of the pain, I reached for the television remote, hoping to turn the TV back on for distraction. I checked the time, three o’clock. I still had two hours before I could take my medication. I had to gather myself.

“Allen had arranged a nice little bedside table next to me with everything that I might need overnight, water, cough drops in case my mouth was dry, a protein bar, the television remote. When I reached for the remote control it slid out of my reach.

“I yanked my hand back, After a moment the television turned on by itself, to Fox News. I never watch Fox. It was blaring. So loud it hurt my ears, and then it was off before I could try to reach for the remote again.

“My heart was racing so fast that I was afraid that I might be having a heart attack. As I sat there, trying to decide what to do, the bed began reclining itself. ‘Stop it!’ I yelled in a panic. The bed stopped and began to incline back up.

“Then I heard my name, or at least, what it calls me.” Beth said.

“ElizaBethBeth?” I asked.

“Yes. It started as a whisper, it was behind me and then in the corner of the room. Then under the bed. I screamed at it, ‘What do you want from me? Leave me be!’ And I heard it laugh,” Beth wrapped her arms around herself. “No, laugh isn’t the right word, it chuckled, as though it were making fun of me. Then I heard the front and back doors open simultaneously. I was completely helpless, I was moving slower than toast and my knee was excruciating. I began screaming my husband’s name.

“As I did, the doors slammed shut and then the television turned on again and then off. My cell phone rang and I just kept screaming for Allen, praying that I could wake him up. He’s an incredibly heavy sleeper. I used to have to literally kick him in the shins to wake him up when it was his turn on the weekends to wake up with the kids.”

“Did he hear you?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Beth replied. “It gets what it wants, and what it wanted that night was for me to wake Allen up and call him downstairs. He was disoriented from waking up from such a deep sleep. I heard him begin to descend the stairs and then, I heard him fall.”

“No,” I said, sad and frightened for this poor woman. “What the hell happened?”

“He tripped. Actually, he said that he had been pushed. That it felt like someone had taken both of their hands, placed them on his lower back and pushed. Hard. He was only about half way down the steps when it happened and he flew forward and slammed his head on the wall so hard that he blacked out for a few moments.

“They were the longest minutes of my life. I was in the bed, basically trapped. The pain in my knee had become unbearable. I was calling his name. Lord have mercy, I thought he was dead. He wasn’t answering me. I ended up getting out of bed and using the walker at the side of my bed to slide myself down to the floor, the entire time it felt as though someone was standing just to my side. Watching. Refusing to help me. I slid myself along the floor with my arms, calling Allen’s name. When I finally reached him he was stirring a little so at least I knew the poor man wasn’t dead.

“Eventually, we managed to pull ourselves together. Allen was fine, just disoriented from the fall. He was able to carry me back to bed, and, luckily, I hadn’t done any real damage to my knee. He sat next to me in a chair for the rest of the night. Every light on the first floor blazing, a channel was playing a Frasier marathon and we watched until the sun came up. We weren’t able to talk about it then, but in the morning, we tried to devise a plan.”

“What did you decide to do?” I asked.

“We decided that we had to call Milena and have her to the house. She had started this ridiculous mess, she had to come clean it up,” Beth replied.

“You trusted her to help you?” I asked.

“I trusted that she knew what she had done and she should know how to undo it,” Beth said, refilling her mug. “She agreed to come to the house, to do a ‘clearing.’ I called Barb and insisted that she be there too. Milena had a whole explanation for doing what she did, a whole lot of bullshit as far as I was concerned. Excuse me, please, for cussing. But that’s just what it was. She walked throughout our home, burning sage and spouting off about love and light, then she had me sit down with her so that she could ‘clear my chakras.’”

“Ugh,” I said.

“I was completely skeptical as well, but I had to try something. Even if what she had done had been some sort of placebo effect and my husband and I had psyched ourselves up into a paranormal frenzy, well, we had to try to un-psych ourselves.” Beth replied.

“Is that really what you thought?” I asked. “That you were just somehow imagining these things.”

“No, it wasn’t. But I was holding onto a glimmer of hope that Milena was just an extremely talented charlatan.”

“Was she?” I asked.

“No. She was an incredibly inept and in over her head phony.” Beth replied. “I could tell that she was really nervous as she was doing or trying to undo what she had done to me with her chakra clearing. Afterwards she confessed to having consulted with a more ‘advanced soul’ who had warned her that some doors, once opened could not be closed.”

“I’ve heard that,” I said, thinking of Casey Cotton and her demon buddy, Zila.

“Yes, well, apparently, the door that Milena opened was one of those doors that cannot be shut,” Beth continued. “We were cautiously optimistic the following week. Allen was, of course, sleeping next to my hospital bed on the living room couch, but everything was quiet for a few days. We were beginning to let our guard down, and then all hell broke loose.

“It started up again when I was sitting out on this porch. It was about a week and a half after my surgery and I was beyond stir crazy. I set myself up on the loveseat and was reading a book. These storm windows weren’t up yet, so it was all screens. It was early September, a little before seven o’clock, so it was dusk. Not dark out, but getting there. I was reading and listening to the pines in the wind when I heard a sort of snuffling snort. I looked up, it had come from that way,” Beth motioned to the windows beside us.

“Uh uh,” I whispered, nervously glancing at the floor to ceiling windows to my left.

“I looked out, and couldn’t see anything. It had taken me a great deal of effort just to get myself into the seat. I couldn’t just jump up and run back in the house. I was staring out the windows, listening as hard as I could and then something came right over close to the house, right beneath the windows. It began to scratch on the siding. Maybe it was an animal, but I don’t think so. I could feel that it was trying to frighten me. Trying to make me feel every bit as trapped as I was,” Beth said. “Besides, I’ve never heard a dog sound like that before, it almost sounded like a big pig snorting around the ground.”

“What did you do?” I demanded. I was seriously getting freaked out and rather pissed that she had invited me to her den of horrors.

“I got up as best as I could and walked back into the house, as I was slowly maneuvering to step over the little lip of the sliding door there was an enormous crash behind me. I almost fell, but I caught myself on the door frame. I fully expected to turn around and see that something had crashed through onto the porch.

“But when I turned around, there was nothing. Except, on the screen we had in that window,” Beth motions to the top of one of the windows. “There were three long rips.”

“Rips?”

“Yes, tears,” Beth holds up three fingers bent into what looks like a claw and drags them downwards.

“Are you saying that they looked like animal claw marks?” I demanded.

“That’s just what they looked like,” Beth confessed.

“But that is like, I don’t know, fifteen or twenty feet up. How could that be?” I said, incredulous.

“I don’t know, but it was,” she said in a small voice.

I was beginning to get a touch agitated by this woman and her story of hobbling around the house being harassed by some sort of nickname-giving demon.

“But, if Milena had done a cleansing, then everything should have been over,” I reasoned.

“It was far from over.  I continued to feel trapped here, by whatever it was outside and I was still having blackout moments. I sent emails that I don’t remember writing. Horribly inappropriate emails. I had to have Allen take the computer out of the house.”

Interest peaked, I asked, “What sorts of inappropriate emails?”

“I sent a rant to my book club that basically listed the faults of all nine members. I called one woman a simpering fool who wouldn’t know foreshadowing if it bit her on the ass. It wasn’t just emails, though, I made phone calls too. I fired every single person who has worked on this house over the past thirty years. Our landscapers, the garbage service, the handy man, our cleaning ladies. The worst though was the selfie,” Beth shook her head and actually started to tear up.

“Selfie?”

“I sent a -” she paused, composing herself. “I sent a topless photo to my husband’s business partner.”

“No!” I declared, trying desperately not to break a smile.

“It was the most terrible thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life. I was so humiliated. I still am humiliated.”

I had to take a moment to compose myself before I was able to say, “I can only imagine.”

“There have been fantastical moments, but it is the day-to-day harassment that is wearing us out. It’s the being startled awake in the middle of the night, the footsteps following us down the hallway, the doors slamming closed by themselves. The subtle things are so much worse than the full blown terrors.

“I get lulled into thinking that everything might be quieting down and then something pulls my hair as I am drinking tea in the morning and I spill the hot drink all over myself.”

Again, I fought the urge to smile, I mean, at least this ghost had a sense of humor.

“Do you think that moving will make a difference?” I asked.

“It’s the only thing we have left to try,” she replied.

“Forgive me for asking, but I have to assume that you’ve been to a doctor about this, yes?” I asked, feeling like a jerk but thinking that this woman might be the first certifiably crazy person I’d ever met in my life.

“Of course,” Beth said defensively. “I consulted with a psychiatrist and a psychologist. I even went to an alternative therapist that Barb recommended. He took one look at me and told me that I needed a six month cleanse and that his schedule was too full at the moment.”

“Right, sorry that I asked, I just wanted to be sure that if anything could be done medically, then -” I stammered.

“No, I know, it sounds like I am riding the crazy town express,” Beth waved off my discomfort.

“Again, forgive me, but what if the move doesn’t work?” I asked.

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Beth replied with a sigh. “I don’t know how to fix this. What else can I do? I really screwed up. I knew that I shouldn’t have spoken with that psychic, I just had a gut feeling, but I ignored it because I didn’t want to offend my friend.”

“It can’t be unfixable -” I began.

“But that’s exactly what it is,” she said, nodding her head. “Unfixable. Doors can be opened, by doing things that we shouldn’t. But they cannot be closed.”

“Beth, if I’m being completely honest with you, I have to say I don’t think that moving is going to help you.”

“What do you suggest?” She asked.

“Please, don’t take this the wrong way, but, maybe it’s time to bring out the big guns. Have you spoken with your priest? About the possibility of oppression, or even -”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. We just looked at one another, neither of us moving even the teeny tiniest muscle. After a too-long minute, it became apparent that Beth was terrified. She couldn’t move.

“It must be FedEx,” I said, trying to convince both of us.

“We aren’t expecting a package,” Beth replied in a whisper.

I was overwhelmed and frightened and when I feel like this I tend to react with anger. I am more of a fighter than a flighter. Just ask the guy dressed as Jason from Friday the 13th who jumped on the back of the haunted carnival ride my sisters and I were on. My ten year old self knocked that motherfucker right to the ground.

But, I mean, what the hell? This damned woman had invited me to her fucking house for Oreos and a good old-fashioned demon possession tale. I felt like my kids had been invited to a playdate only to have the other mother tell me that her children had a bad case of Hand, Foot, and Mouth.

I said, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Beth, it’s the mail,” I stood and stomped to the front door all amped up on terror and annoyance.

I grabbed the front door handle and swung the door open, only to find, no one. Nothing. I looked out to the little tree filled hill across Cedar Street and felt the wind push my hair back from my face.

I heard footsteps behind me and felt Beth standing right next to me. Nice fucking personal space, I thought.  I said, “We must have taken too long to get to the door.”

When Beth didn’t say anything I spun around, about to snap at her again, but, she wasn’t there.

“Beth!” I demanded, a panic attack on the rise. I would have sworn that she was right behind me.

“Who’s at the door?” Beth called from the screened in porch.

“No one,” I said, quietly.

“Liz?” Beth called and began walking towards me.

“Yeah, sorry,” I replied. “No one is there.” I had my back to the open doorway and was facing Beth. I didn’t know which situation made me more terrified.

Beth stopped next to the stairs and said, “I don’t think we should be talking about this anymore.”

“You were just right behind me,” I said.

“No, I wasn’t,” Beth replied.

Categories
Archives Ghosts in the Burbs

Bunkmates

I’ve had, well, several career changes throughout my life. I waited tables in an assisted living home in high school then bartended in college. After graduating with a Bachelor’s in History, I became an insurance adjuster. Then I went back to school to become a failed hairdresser – an experience which deserves a podcast and blog of it’s own. After that I gave administrative assistanting a shot, and I nailed it. I worked at at a commercial real estate company, C got me the job. I convinced said company to let me give property appraisal a go round. Nope. Back to administrative/marketing assistanting at a different commercial real estate company. Then I snuck over to secretary work at a large publishing company which lead to a mini-promotion to assistant copy editor. The work was far too solitary so I applied to library school. I graduated to become the head librarian at one of the largest high schools in the state. Then I went and had two kids, which left me with the memory of a goldfish, so I downshifted (as they say on LinkedIn) and became a part-time children’s reference librarian at the Wellesley Free Library. Then I downshifted again and I currently work for three very demanding, very small people who have hysterical fits of rage.

Needless to say, throughout all of these career shifts, I’ve met a lot of people. One of those people was Tom Murphy. He’s a commercial real estate broker, like my husband, and we worked together for a while; well not together, but at the same company years back. He is still at that wonderful company, C is at a competing firm, and I am keeping three sociopaths alive.

Boston is small, the commercial real estate world is smaller, and Wellesley is a pin’s head. So naturally our paths crossed again now that we happen to live in the same town.

Shortly after we moved to town C ran into Tom at the Whole Foods, and then I ran into him at the dump. I was happy to see him. I liked Tom, he had always been kind and friendly and an easy smiler. I was quite young when I had worked in his office and there were a lot of men there with serious egos and wandering eyes. Tom hadn’t been one of those guys. He’s the kind of person who makes you remember that being kind matters.

The office building was connected to the Prudential Center and one of the sandwich shops in the food court gave out free, fresh baked cookies with their sandwiches. Tom passed several administrative assistant’s desks on the way back from lunch each day, including my own. And on the way to his office he would leave the cookie on one of our desks. It was such a small token, but it was sort of a “dad” gesture and it made me just adore him.


One Sunday morning in early October we went on a walk with the girls (one in a front pack on me, C pushing the other two in the double Bob). We were exploring a neighborhood and considering a move. A house had come on the market and it was located dangerously close to several of our friends. As Heidi put it, if we moved, it would be like grown-up college dorms.

As we scouted the turf we slowly fell in love with the idea of the girls walking to school with their buddies. Skirting Boulder Brook path we ran into Tom, who was on a jog with his oldest daughter, Meg. He lived one street over from the house we were interested in, and, after giving us the hard sell on the neighborhood as any good real estate broker is wont to do, he signed all three of his girls up for on-call babysitting duty.

“Now wait just a minute, you’re the Liz Sower who’s writing the ghost blog, aren’t you?” He said.

I admitted that I was that same Liz Sower. I’d recently pulled everything together well enough to pop the stories I had been collecting onto a blog and it was actually getting passed around town a bit.

“I knew it!” He declared clapping his hands together. “My wife turned me onto your stories. Are they real?”

“As far as I can tell,” I replied, bouncing a little so Kat wouldn’t wake up.

“Wait,” his daughter said. “You write those Wellesley ghost stories?”

“Yup,” I said, feeling guilty and mentally scanning to count how many times I had used the word “fuck” in my writing.

“Oh. My. Gawd!” She said, “My sisters and I got sooo freaked out about that one story with the break-in and the poltergeist! We literally won’t open the door to anyone anymore! That happened in Bates, right?” She asked, referring to the elementary school, the way all Welleslians demark neighborhood boundaries.

“It did,” I said.

“Which house was it?” She demanded.

“Oh, I couldn’t say,” I said with a laugh. “And it happened a really long time ago, you guys just keep those doors locked and you’ll be fine.”

She looked at me skeptically.

Tom said, “My wife told me I should email you, I have a ghost story! I grew up in town and we lived in a house that was haunted for a time, over in Wellesley Farms near the train stop.”

“Really?” I asked. “I would love to hear it.”

C said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you guys grab coffee or something. I don’t want to hear your old ghost story.”

“He’s scared,” I said with a laugh.

“He should be,” said Tom, lightly punching C in the arm.


“I miss bottles,” Tom said, gazing at Kat.

“Oh geez,” I said with a groan. “Your glasses aren’t just rose colored, they are a delusional hot pink.”

“I know, babies are exhausting, but, when they are little like that, they are just so bright and shiny.”

“I guess so,” I agreed. “I just wish I didn’t feel so sticky all the time.”

“Trust me,” he said. “You’ll miss it.”

We met up at the Starbucks on Monday morning, the day after we’d run into each other. He’d texted shortly after we’d parted ways on Sunday and suggested the time and place.

“Alright, alright, enough about the damn kid,” I said, shaking Kat’s bottle to mix her formula. “Tell me your ghost story.”

Tom smiled and began, “I grew up in a house in Wellesley Farms. I don’t know if you’re familiar with that part of town, near the train station?”

“That’s off Glen Road, right?” I said. I’d, of course, done my research beforehand. These real estate guys were obsessed with directions to and from places and “parts of town.” Trust me, I know. I’m married to one of ‘em and I have no bigger pet peeve than when someone insists upon describing the way someplace (a.k.a gives me directions). My mind doesn’t work that way and after the second, “then you take a left at the yellow house,” I am lost and feeling dumb and impatient. We have navigation in our cars and google maps on our phones. Enough already.

“Yup, that’s it,” Tom said, confirming the location. “That part of town is quite hilly, with lots of winding roads that all seem to connect. Our house was pretty close to the train station. The lot is difficult to describe, and it won’t seem to make sense, but our home was set at the top of a hill that sat at the base of a ravine. A dirt road ran along a stream that curved around the other side of the house and joined a different stream that ran behind the house. You don’t get a lot of land in town, but we had a nice spot there. There were homes around us, but when the trees filled out in the Springtime, you wouldn’t know it.”

“Wait, let me make sure I get this. A stream curved around the front and one side of the house and then met up with another stream in the backyard?” I asked.

“Yes, exactly. Part of our driveway was a little wooden bridge.” He replied.

“And the house was at the top of a hill? I seriously can’t picture this,” I said.

“I’ll text you the address so you can go see it. It is a unique spot.” He said, looking down at his phone and quickly sending me the information.

“Perfect, thanks,” I said, feeding Kat her bottle.

“I have a younger brother and we spent hours in these streams, damming them and searching for salamanders. We hardly ever went on vacation, but one summer, my parents brought us to this place called the Whiteface Lodge in the Adirondacks, ever been?” he asked.

“I grew up in Central New York, so I’ve been to Lake Placid a couple times,” I replied.

“Yes, that’s exactly where we went. We did some hiking and kayaking, the hotel even had a bowling alley.”

“How old were you guys?” I asked.

“I was probably eleven and that would have made Peter nine,” he said. “Our family stayed in this cool two-level suite in the lodge. It had that classic Adirondack look.”

I nodded my head imagining red plaid blankets, tree stump accent tables and deer heads.

“Our bedroom was on the upper floor along with a bathroom and the television sitting area. My parents room was on the first floor with the kitchen and another bedroom. My brother and I had these awesome bunk beds in our room. I got the bottom bunk and he had the top. We were in heaven, and we couldn’t stop talking about them. About how cool they were, about how they made the best fort, about how they were made of real trees. It was this totally novel concept to us,” Tom said with a laugh.

“We were on our way back to the hotel from a hike we’d taken at Cascade Mountain, I think the trail was called Owl’s Head. We drove past this little log cabin and it had a sign that said ‘Authentic Adirondack Furniture.’ My mom had my dad pull into the dirt driveway and we all go out to explore.

“There was a small barn behind the home and right when we walked in Pete and I spotted the bunk beds. We weren’t leaving there until we’d convinced our parents to buy them. I committed to mowing the lawn for two summers without pay and my brother swore to walk our dog, Bo, throughout the entire winter without complaining once.

“You know how it is on vacation,” Tom says with his crinkle-eyed smile. “You get caught up and buy things that you would never consider otherwise in your real life.”

“I bought a mumu on my honeymoon,” I said. “C was thrilled when we got home and I realized my mistake.”

“Exactly!” Tom said, laughing. “Those damn bunk beds were out of place in our house. I can see that looking back on it now. They were this massive piece of furniture in a home where my mother’s taste leaned more towards delicate antiques.

“Of course, my brother and I didn’t care. We were like pigs in shit, for a while anyway.”

I shifted Kat to burp her and asked, “And then?”

“And then it started,” Tom replied. “It was subtle at first, or, I guess I would say it was easily explained away.”

“What was?” I asked, again shifting Kat in my arms to give her the rest of her bottle.

“I am pretty sure that it started with the taps, but Peter insists that the voice came first. At any rate, I remember the taps. They started up one night, soon after we’d returned from vacation. At first, it sounded like they were coming from outside. Three taps at a time, I thought it sounded like when we were inside and our dad was outside chopping wood.

“That was my first thought the first night that we heard them, ‘What is dad doing outside chopping wood in the middle of the night?’ Peter and I were both awake and I made him get down from the top bunk and look out the window to see what was going on.”

“Mean big brother,” I said smiling.

“I’ve done my best to make up for it over the years,” Tom replied with a grin.

“Did he see anything out the window?” I asked, looking down at Kat to gauge how much of her bottle remained. She was a slow-poke.

“Nothing, zilch. Once he got out of the bed the tapping stopped. It was weird, we reasoned that it was someone outside banging a stick against a tree, which made no good sense, but we were kids.

“This kept up over several nights, but these taps, or chops seemed to get closer to the house. After a couple nights Peter refused to get down and look out the window. We were both a little scared, but I wasn’t going to let on to how frightened I actually was, so I razzed him about it. He finally told me that if I was so brave why wouldn’t I get up and just go outside to see who was making the noise. That shut me up.

“Then one night it stopped,” Tom said.

“Stopped?” I asked.

“Yes, nothing. We joked about it the next morning, said the tree-chopper – that’s what we’d nicknamed it – must have moved on. Then that night, it started up again, only this time, it was coming from the attic.”

“Uh uh,” I said, taking the empty bottle from Kat and putting her up on my shoulder to burp her again.

“Exactly,” Tom affirms. “We woke up in the middle of the night to this tapping. One, two three. One, two, three,” he counts out as he taps his fingertips on the table between us. “We told our parents and they thought it was squirrels in the attic. They didn’t believe our story of the tapping coming closer to the house, they thought we were fooling around,” he said.

“I don’t think I would believe it either,” I replied. “I would have thought you were either messing with each other or me.”

“Exactly,” Tom said. He watched me for a minute then asked, “Can I hold her?”

I looked down at Kat who was snuggled into my arms with her binkie and lovie blanket, “You are too much, Tom,” I said as I stood and placed her in his arms. I tucked the lovie between his chest and her cheek. Kat’s an ‘any port in the storm’ type of gal, so she was happy as could be.

“Did your parents set traps, or call an exterminator?” I asked as I sat back down in my chair.

Tom swayed back and forth slightly with the baby and replied, “They’ were do it yourself-ers and my dad set some humane traps for the supposed squirrels and laid out a couple wooden mice traps in case we were exaggerating about all the noise.

“That first night around two a.m. we heard all of the mice traps go off at once, right over our heads.”

“Any mice?” I asked, picturing a little Tom and a littler Peter tucked into bed, wide eyed and terrified in the middle of the night.

“No mice, and the cheese was still on the traps when my dad checked them in the morning,” Tom explained. “He took it as a challenge and put peanut butter on the traps the next night, but all it made was make a mess, melting off the traps in the hot attic.”

“What about the taps?” I asked, sipping my coffee and stretching in my chair. Enjoying the break from holding Kat.

“We heard the traps all go off again that second night, this time even the squirrel traps slammed shut, same time, two a.m. After that, the taps stopped for good, but the tremors started,” he said, continuing to sway in his seat with the baby. “The bed would, not shake, but tremor slightly. Pete called it ‘the shivers.’”

“Geez,” I said, leaning forward.

“The tremors stayed with us until the bed left the house. You know what reminds me of it? When I feel my cell phone buzz in my pocket if I have the ringer off. That quick three bursts of buzz, buzz, buzz. I hate having my phone on vibrate.”

“Did you say anything to your parents?” I asked.

“Oh sure, I even said that I thought something might be wrong with our bunk beds and, like any good set of parents, they got really angry. Dad went off on a rant about how we were ungrateful and needed to start recognizing all of our blessings and be more thankful for the things that he and my mom provided.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said. “I think I just gave that same rant yesterday.”

“Me too,” Tom said with a laugh. “Those tremors were with us until we finally got rid of the bunk bed. We actually got used to them. As we fell asleep they were soft, but towards the middle of the night they came closer together, I think to wake us up.

“The taps and the tremors were disturbing, but then I woke up one night to whispering. I thought at first that it was Peter calling to me from the top bunk so I called back to him, but he didn’t answer. I said his name a bit louder and still he didn’t answer, so I peeked up over the edge of the bed. He wasn’t there.

“I sat back on my bed for a moment trying to decide what to do. I knew that he would never get up in the middle of the night without me. As I sat there trying to decide whether I should go to my parent’s room I heard the whispering again. I realized that it was coming from the closet on the other side of the room.

“I listened for a few moments and could discern two voices, speaking very quietly. Then I heard one of them laugh and realized that it was my brother. I flipped the lamp on beside the bed and crawled out to walk to the closet.

“I put my hand on the handle and paused. The voices had stopped. It took all the guts I had in my eleven year old body to open that door, but I did it, and there was Pete. He had his back to me and had pushed some of our clothes to the sides of the closet so that he had a little space to stand. He was just staring at the back of the closet. He didn’t even flinch when I opened the door. I was scared stiff and I didn’t even want to speak, but I yelled at him, ‘Pete, what the heck? Pete!’ and then I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“It took him a second or two to come around. Then he was scared. I asked him what the heck he had been doing in the closet and who he had been talking to. He said that he didn’t know, that he couldn’t remember. But I just sort of knew that he wasn’t completely telling the truth.

“I called him a weirdo and told him to cut it out and get back in bed. We both crawled into our beds and I shut the light off but I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.”

“For heaven’s sake, if I ever hear whispering in my closet I’m leaving a trail of lighter fluid in my wake and throwing a match of my shoulder as I run out of the door screaming,” I said.

“Yeah, I think I would do the same thing today,” Tom said with a shrug. “But we were kids. At that point, part of me was still thinking that this was some sort of adventure. Like a mystery for Pete and me to solve. It was summer and we were bored with playing at the creek and this gave us a bit of a thrill.

“It was when Pete started acting strangely that I become concerned.”

“Strangely?” I asked. “I’d call talking to someone in the closet in the middle of the night pretty strange.”

“Exactly,” Tom said. “But that was just the beginning. I found him like that in the closet a couple more times before I finally got up the nerve to go to my parents room and wake them up before opening the door to the closet. I could tell that it frightened our mother, but my dad was determined to blame it on sleep walking.

“Pete started talking to himself during the day,” Tom continued. “ We would be out at the creek building a dam or hunting for salamanders and I’d wander away from him only to return and find him sitting there whispering, shaking his head or motioning his hands like he was having a full conversation. I tried to kid him about it, tell him he must be losing it, but he wouldn’t joke with me about it. He’d always been a happy kid, always looking for a laugh and then that just changed.

“He even started to look different. There were dark circles under his eyes and he sort of scrunched his eyebrows all the time. He got really grumpy with me. I tried to tell my mom but she blamed it on his sleepwalking just like my dad. She said Peter was overtired and that I needed to be patient with him.

“One night I woke up and my dad was walking Pete back into our bedroom and helping him back into bed. I asked what was going on and he said Pete had been sleepwalking again and he found him in the backyard banging a stick against a tree. He said it with more choice words, something like, “Your jackass brother was in the backyard banging the hell out of tree with a damn stick.’”

“Oh no,” I said.

“That was the first time that I truly felt afraid. And then, after that night, I’ll tell you what, Pete got mean.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, it was little things that only I noticed. He acted fine around my parents, but when we were at the creek he’d look for crayfish and put them in with our little bucket of salamanders and watch them fight. I’d dump the bucket out whenever I saw him doing it. It gave me the creeps. It was other stuff, too.  We were riding bikes one time and he sped up and aimed to hit a cat.  He didn’t hit it, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. He threw rocks at some bunnies in our yard, stuff like that.

“Then this one time, in our kitchen he was getting something to eat and our dog – we had this old deaf golden retriever – and Pete kicked him out of his way on the way to the refrigerator. I got so mad at him and I shoved him and said he’d better not ever do that again. Then he just came at me swinging. My mom had to pry us apart, we were rolling around on the kitchen floor going at each other.

“I got in so much trouble for that. She wouldn’t listen to me, only heard Pete say that I had shoved him first. That night, when he got home from work, my dad gave me a long lecture about how I should be looking out for my brother. He didn’t understand that I was looking out for Petey, my parents were the ones ignoring what was happening to him.

“Geez, Tom. You were so young, that’s a lot to take on,” I said, sympathetically.

“What are you gonna do?” Tom said, shrugging his shoulders. “It was a different time, us kids were to stay out of our mom’s hair during the day. Entertain ourselves, look out for each other. It’s so different today, but I can understand how my parents saw things back then. They probably figured that we were just getting on each other’s nerves from spending so much time together.”

“What changed their minds?” I asked.

Tom paused and took a breath, then said, “One night Pete woke me up saying, ‘Cut it out, Tommy’ I didn’t know what he was talking about and denied doing anything. He insisted that I had been kicking the bottom off his mattress with my feet and lifting him up. I had been sound asleep, I hadn’t done any such thing. As we were arguing back and forth about it, I felt something kick under my mattress and lift me up a little bit.”

“Holy hell,” I said.

“Yeah,” Tom said nodding his head. “I scrambled up the ladder to Pete’s bunk before I even knew what I was doing. We sat there, scared to death. It was the first connection I had really made with Pete in a couple weeks. I asked him, ‘What is it?’ and he just said, ‘It’s him. He needs something.’ But Pete wouldn’t tell me who ‘he’ was or what he wanted. The more I pushed for an answer the quieter he got and then he finally got angry and told me to get the heck out of his bed and to stop being such a baby.

“After that night Pete began carrying around this little red-handled paint scraper. You know the kind?” Tom asked. ”It’s metal, about six inches long with a flat metal surface at the top for scraping paint. The handle was covered in red rubber. My dad had it because he had scraped and repainted the deck that previous Spring.

“Pete became attached to the thing. If we were playing or hanging out he’d carry it in his jeans, the red handle sticking out above the top of his back pocket. One afternoon he was sharpening the thing in the garage against this sharpening stone that my dad used for his firewood axe. I asked him what the heck he was doing and Pete just ignored me, so I yelled at him, ‘Earth to Pete?’ and he looked up at me, but it wasn’t Pete looking at me. He looked older, and so filled with hatred. I backed out of the garage and he smiled and said, ‘He needs something.’”

“Come on,” I said. “What did you do?”

“Really, nothing. I avoided him after that. I knew my parents weren’t going to be any help, so I tried to stay away from him. The problem was, he wouldn’t leave me alone. I’d be at the creek and turn around and there he’d be, with that paint scraper in his hand, just standing there, staring at me. Or I’d ride my bike to the pond and he would be there. Sitting in the sand, watching me.

“The worst was a few times I pulled my covers back to see the paint scraper lying there on my pillow and Pete would reach past me to grab it before climbing up to his bunk.”

“I can’t believe your parents didn’t see this change in him,” I said.

“I think my mom saw more than she was letting on, thank God,” Tom replied. “Things came to a head one night. I was dozing off when I heard the bed creak above me. I could see Pete’s imprint on the mattress, and there was another imprint. Like someone was sitting at the end of his bed. I called up to him and he didn’t answer. Then he just slowly climbed down the ladder and stood next to my bed staring at me.

“I sat up and told him to cut it out and go back to bed, then I noticed the paint scraper. ‘I know what he needs,’ Pete said in a whisper. I told him to shut up, to leave me alone or I was going to go get our dad. I began to get out of the bed and he launched himself at me.

“He came at me with that damn paint scraper. He was trying to cut me, but I somehow managed to grab both of his arms with mine and stop him. He was doing his damndest to hurt me, and his face, Liz, it wasn’t my brother. I don’t know what came over me, but I started screaming, ‘Get out of my brother! Leave my brother alone! You can’t stay here!’ And I was calling to Pete, screaming his name, telling him to fight whatever it was off, I got through to him once and saw his eyes change a little, like he recognized me and I screamed, ‘Jesus won’t let you take my brother! Jesus won’t let you take Pete!’”

“Where were your parents?” I demanded.

“Oh, they came in and they saw what was happening right after I had yelled for Jesus to help Pete. I can still see them clear as day standing there in our doorway, frightened and confused. Then my dad pulled Pete off me and I just kept yelling for Jesus to help Pete. My mom sat down on the bed next to me and tried to calm me down. Pete was struggling with my dad, and then my mom jumped up and said, ‘Robert, the bed, it’s shaking,’ my dad looked at her and my mom looked between Pete and me and went straight to Pete and put her hand on his forehead and said ‘Demon, in Jesus name you leave my son. May all of God’s angels drag you back to hell. In Jesus name I demand that you leave Peter!’”

“Tom -” I began.

He held a hand out to stop me, “I know that this sounds like a tall tale. But, Liz, it happened. I think that when my mom felt the bed shake for herself and heard me calling out to help Pete, she believed. And you know what? I hadn’t even realized the bed was doing that tremor thing. I was so worked up.”

“What about Pete?” I asked. “What happened?”

“He came around. Slowly. It wasn’t like he all of a sudden snapped out of it, it was more like he stopped struggling with my dad and then he was very quiet and just staring at all of us like he didn’t know how we all got there. My mom went and got her Rosary beads and put them around his neck and then Pete started crying and saying, ‘Mommy’ over and over.”

“How did your dad react?”

“He never said anything about it. We all went downstairs and my mom actually made us hot chocolate and, even though Pete was still in a daze, he was definitely Pete again. The next morning my dad stayed home from work and took apart the bunk beds. I heard my mom tell him to ‘get those cursed beds out of her house,’ and he did. He dismantled them and dragged them out and didn’t tell us what he did with them.

“Sorry,” Tom apologized. “I know that it’s a real anticlimactic ending, but the rest of the summer was fine. Everything went back to normal. Pete was Pete again. I tried asking him about everything, but he said he couldn’t remember much. Just that he had felt really mad all the time.”

“We’ve talked about it a few times over the years, but I hadn’t thought too much about it until my mom passed away recently,” he said.

“I am so sorry to hear that, Tom,” I said.

“Thanks, we miss her a lot. Dad died about five years ago, so Pete and I need to sell the house. We cleaned out the basement and then tackled my parent’s storage unit in Framingham. It was mostly a hoard of dusty old antiques, ratty rugs and broken lamps,” Tom explained looking down at Kat who was sound asleep in his arms. “At any rate, we dug through to the back of the storage unit and there they were. The bunk beds.”

“Uh uh,” I said.

“Yup, looking just like the day we first spotted them at the barn,” he replied shaking his head.

“What did you do with them?” I asked.

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” He said shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know what to do with them. We’ve cancelled the storage unit, I couldn’t ask Pete to take them, and I can’t very well drop them off the dump swap and have some poor family take them home.”

“So where are they now?” I asked nervously.

“In my basement,” he said.

“Tom, no!” I replied.

“My wife is furious. When I came home with those things in the back of the pick up she damn near lost her mind.”

“So she’s knows the whole story?” I asked.

“Almost, she knows everything but the part about Pete trying to kill me.”

“You’ve got to get rid of them,” I said.

“How? He asked. “I can’t make a bonfire in our backyard, I can’t sell them, can’t donate them,” he trailed off.

“What about a wood chipper?” I asked. “Rent a wood chipper and chop them down to nothing. Then dump the wood chips in a lake somewhere. Wait, duh,” I said, reconsidering. “Take them out on a boat and just throw them overboard. Tie a nice cement block to each piece.”

“Hmm,” he said, looking off into the distance. “Pete has a boat, we could go out from the Cape, I guess.”

“Tomorrow,” I insisted.

“See, I knew you’d have an idea,” Tom said smiling. He stood up to hand Kat back to me. She stirred a bit but settled back down into my arms.

Tom grabbed our coffees off the table to throw the empty cups away. I put Kat’s bottle in the stroller then glanced up at Tom’s back as he walked to the garbage can. I notice something sticking out over the back pocket of his jeans. It was a red handle.

It took me a moment, and then I knew without a doubt what it was. I quickly looked away and felt goosebumps cover my body. Tom was back at the table before I could react.

He sat back down and asked, “What do you ladies have on tap for the rest of the day?”

“The usual,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “But, um, C is actually coming home early. Should be there by the time we get back,” I lied.

“That’s nice, what’s the occasion?” He asked.

“He’s just trying to give me a break, you know how it is with little ones,” I explained. “Speaking of, I should go grab the other two rug rats and get home.”

“You’re pulling them from school early?” He asked, his brow furrowed.

“Uh, yes, we’ll grab lunch then C will take them all to the park or something.”

“Dad of the year,” Tom said with his crinkle-eyed smile.

I agreed and quickly gathered my things, and stood, “Tom, thanks for your ghost story, it was truly frightening.”

“Will it make the blog?” He asked putting his hand out to shake.

I tried to hide my hesitation, but shook his hand and said, “Oh, most definitely.”

I quickly popped Kat into her car seat and wheeled her away, feeling Tom’s eyes on my back as I walked to the exit. I got us both into the car and called C, “I think Tom Murphy is going to hurt someone, if he hasn’t already. I’m going to the police station. You need to come home.”

Categories
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If You Go Out in the Woods Today… (MOPO)

Morses Pond didn’t start out as the sizeable body of water it is today. Back in 1738, a landowner dammed a brook to create a mill-pond. Subsequent owners liked this idea, each one outdoing the last in building up the dam until the small spit of water eventually grew into the Morses Pond we know today.***

I don’t like ponds. Never have. Even as a little kid, they skeeved me out. The muddy suction, pulling at my feet as I entered. The murky water, whispering of a million animal poops. The slightly rank smell, hinting at the decomposition of dead bodies waiting to be discovered just beneath the surface.

Don’t get me wrong, I spent a massive amount of time on ponds and small lakes as a child. I grew up in Central New York, and you can’t throw a snowball without hitting a body of water up there. I went tubing and boating and sunset cruising, though never water skiing. I went to a summer camp where we tipped canoes in a pond so choked by weeds, they slithered along our legs as we tread water. Our counselors told a story of the Frog Man, a World War II vet who somehow invoked Native American spirits and, well, turned into a Frog Man. Even at the time it didn’t make much sense, but it was scary nonetheless and we couldn’t help but wonder if those really were just weeds slithering along our legs.

It was all great summer fun, and in my youth I was much better at pushing past gross shit that made me uncomfortable so I could have fun doing the things that I enjoyed. As opposed to now, when I have to really dig deep to appear as though it’s no big deal when my kids are covered in mud, or shit, or boogers. I watched my oldest daughter lick the side of my car this winter. She licked the side of my car. Really. It was all I could do to not just wish her well and abandon her there in the parking lot.

Anyhow, back to ponds… Before we moved to town I read A Murder in Wellesley, by Tom Farmer and Marty Foley. It is a true crime tale about May Greineder, a Welleslian who, on Halloween morning in 1999, was savagely murdered by her husband on the walking trails around Morses Pond. It is a sad story, but a fascinating crime. It made me curious about these trails and the pond they encircle. So I did some exploring.

Walking along Morses Pond you can’t go too far without running into someone and their dog or circling back to where you started. The trails are sandy and surrounded by pine forest, and they remind me of a bike trail my family used to ride along on Cape Cod.

There was this one thing that I read about the pond that just bothered me. The average depth of the pond is eight feet. That’s it. Eight feet. There is something so, well, murky about eight feet. It gives me the shivers. It reminded me of the Frog Man, and my childhood memory of swimming among the weeds suddenly struck me as less “summer fun” and more “where the fuck were the adults?”

You don’t have to look far to find stories of people getting tangled in weeds and drowning. Morses Pond is on its way to becoming wetland. Experts call this kind of pond eutrophic. In other words, it doesn’t have enough life within it to process the amount of nutrients it contains. Think algae blooms and thriving weeds and stench.

I am a crazy person near the water as it is. You know Chief Brody from Jaws? Picture him running up and down the beach, screaming “Get out of the water! Get out of the water! Shark!” after he sees a school of fish and mistakes it for a vengeful sea monster.

That’s me.

Why this little discourse on Morses Pond? Well, I met three women who convinced me that, not only would my girls never step foot into that pond, they wouldn’t be walking its surrounding trails anytime soon either.


Hillary, Jill and Vanessa were classmates with Jenn (of the home invasion producing poltergeist). They were freshman when she was a senior in high school and ran in some of the same Wellesley power circles. They belonged to what I found to be the most fascinating social group in town.

See that tiny blond woman driving the silver Range Rover with two car seats in the back and a ACK sticker on the bumper? That bitch is gettin’ shit done. Don’t mistake her for some trophy wife. She’ll have her fourth baby soon enough (number of children is becoming a status symbol here), but in the meantime, she is managing a massive home renovation, shuttling three children to three different schools (two to private, one to public), crushing her third year in the Juniors (Wellesley’s own brand of the Junior League) and doing some home design consulting on the side. She’s balls-to-the-wall Paleo and takes the same spin class as Giselle and Tom.

Wellesley was chock full of these women and they cocktailed and wealthy-benefactored together. Jenn emailed me and said some friends of hers wanted to have me over for drinks. Her email subtly warned me that they were in the Range Rover crew.

It was late September, I’d had my baby back in July, she came early just like her sisters. I am not the best at being pregnant, can never seem to make it through to the home stretch, but she was a toughy and did just fine. I did have to give up my part-time job at the library, though. I just couldn’t muster up the ability to be reliable anymore; one of the girls was always sick or refusing to sleep through the night.

For obvious reasons I’d taken time off from collecting ghost stories. I was exhausted and vacillating between, “what the fuck were we thinking having another baby?” and “it’s got to get easier at some point.” This third baby was not a status symbol baby, more a “happy oops/I missed my IUD appointment” baby.

So when I read Jenn’s email I jumped on it immediately. I was desperate to be around adults. And drink wine. I told her to send me their contact information and I’d reach out.

About an hour later I received an email from Paperless Post titled Ghostly Get Together. I clicked on the envelope, which virtually opened to a tasteful navy blue trellised note card.

It read, “Join us for a haunted tale. Thursday, September 27th, 7:00pm. Cocktails and a Scare.” I clicked to RSVP and saw that besides the host, Hillary Stone, there would be only two other guests in attendance, Jill Fairchild and Vanessa Cheney [note: all names have been changed to protect individuals’ identities].

What the hell was I going to wear?


I made my own little power move and Ubered to Hillary’s house. C was home with the kids. He assured me that he would stay a little later the next morning to get the two older girls to school.

“Take a break, have fun,” he said. Though, I know he meant, “It seems like you might be about to lose it for good this time. Please don’t leave me.”

I was determined to enjoy myself, drink an extra glass of wine, and sleep in the next morning. My friend Heidi helped me to pick out an outfit. I was feeling puffy and holding on to the pregnancy weight, but I did feel kind of cool in my jeans, navy blue blazer, light blue gingham shirt (popped collar over popped collar) and chunky coral necklace. My friend Kristine let me borrow her Chloe bag, the necklace was from Leigh, and Lyssa came over to beach wave my hair. Laura and Carrie still had small babies at home so they texted encouragement and asked for pictures. It takes a village.

The Uber pulled up in front of a sprawling colonial-style home.

“Wish me luck,” I said to the driver.

“You’re killin’ it,” he replied. “Don’t let ‘em see you sweat.”

I climbed the stone steps in my flats and realized that I was probably going to have to take my shoes off once inside. I hadn’t had a pedicure in months. Didn’t know when I had last trimmed my toenails.

I shot off a quick, panicked message to my friends in a text chain title “Squad.”

PEDICURE!!! F!!!

Own it. Heidi texted back immediately.

You’re cooler than they are. Lyssa texted shortly after.

I texted them the devil face emoji, then continued up the stone steps. The house was white with black shutters and a black door. Landscaped to the hilt, I wondered if anyone had ever walked on the grass, or if Hillary’s hands had planted those mums.

As I lifted my hand to ring the doorbell the door swung open and a trinity of Wellesley power mommies looked out at me expectantly.

“Liz?” The one with flowing auburn hair demanded.

“Yes,” I said, “Hillary?”

“Hi! Come in!” She replied.

The three women stepped aside and Hillary introduced me to Jill Fairchild (flowing blond hair) and Vanessa Cheney (flowing brunette hair). I was given the head-to-toe once over and I’m not sure if I passed, but Vanessa said, “Love your necklace.”

I reached up to touch it and said, “Thanks,” stopping myself from telling them that I’d borrowed it from a friend.

“Great bag,” Jill said, smiling. I was beginning to feel like a fraud.

“Come on,” Hillary said, “No, no, leave your shoes on. They look cute.”

I followed the trio down the hall and through french doors into a dining room. At it’s center sat a circular white lacquered dining table beneath a massive crystal chandelier. Upon the table was a coral colored tray with cheese, crackers and grapes. Windows filled an entire wall and provided a view of darkening woods. Where there weren’t windows, there was wallpaper. Life sized navy blue palm leaves created a preppy floor to ceiling forest. Hillary walked to a golden bar cart bar and asked over her shoulder if I liked Chardonnay.

“Love it,” I said.

“What’s your favorite?” she asked.

“Oh, whatever is open is fine,” I replied.

“No, really, what is your favorite?” She asked again.

“Well, I guess it’s Rombauer,” I said, feeling uncomfortable.

“You’re in luck,” she said, reaching for a bottle. “I’ve got some 2014.”

Jill and Vanessa sat down and snacked on cheese and crackers. Hillary motioned for me to sit and brought over a very full glass of my very favorite wine.

As I sipped and chatted about kids, elementary schools and a recent adultery scandal between a couple of their neighbors, I studied the three of them. They wore slightly different versions of the same outfit. Tight skinny jeans, black flowy tops, diamond studs, and big watches. Gold for Hillary, silver for Vanessa, and a combination of the two for Jill. Hillary was the obvious queen, and it was immediately apparent that Jill and Vanessa were ever-vying for the number two position.

I sent up a quick prayer, thanking God for my kind, funny, wonderful friends.

After discussing the looming elementary school redistricting – and by discussing, I mean nodding my head and making non-committal semi-affirming noises to their outraged statements – Hillary stood and opened a new bottle. Jill and Vanessa quieted down, as if on cue, as our hostess refilled our wine glasses.

“So, Liz, we have a ghost story for you,” Hillary said, topping off my Chardonnay.

“Fantastic,” I replied. “Do you guys mind me recording our conversation?”

“Not at all, but we’ll need you to agree to change our names for your piece, and swear that you will not divulge our identities to anyone,” Vanessa said, in resting bitch face.

“Sure,” I replied, switching on my digital recorder and placing it on the table’s gleaming surface.

“Great, then we can get started,” Hillary said brightly.

Jill stared at the recorder and Vanessa sat back in her chair to sip her wine.

“We’ve been friends for a really long time. We were neighbors as kids, on the other side of town in Wellesley Hills. We were together all the time,” Hillary began.

“Inseparable,” Jill chimed in.

Hillary nodded her head and continued, “And we just grew closer as we grew older. We had another friend -”

“Claire,” said Vanessa, leaning forward in her seat. I stopped myself from asking what color hair she had.

Hillary went on, “It was always the four of us, we nicknamed ourselves the Tetrad.”

“It means ‘four,’” Jill explained. I smiled at her.

“Anyway,” Hillary said, her voice hinting annoyance at the interruptions, “All throughout elementary and middle school everyone knew that we just, like, came as a group. Then in high school, we started dating these guys who were also really close. We hung out with them constantly, all together. My husband, Philip, lived on MOPO -”

“Wait, two questions,” I said, holding up my hand. “What is ‘MOPO’ and you married your high school sweetheart?”

Morses Pond and yes, we all did,” Hillary replied.

“You guys all married your high school sweethearts?” I asked, with a nervous laugh. The three exchanged a look then said “yes” in unison.

I patted my blazer pocket, almost absently, making sure that my phone was in reach. The vibe had just shifted from bitchy women talking about their glory days, to Stepford Wives ready to indoctrinate me.

The women were looking at me expectantly, so I said, “That is just about the sweetest thing.”

They exchanged another look and Vanessa began to explain, “We all went through a lot together, and -”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hillary interrupted her. Vanessa sat back in her seat and continued drinking. Jill’s eyes darted between them. Hillary continued, “As I was saying, my husband lived on MOPO. His home had this gorgeous lawn that lead down to the water and a boathouse with a dock. The summer after our sophomore year we spent everyday, sun up to sundown, on the water, tooling around in one of the boats or laying out at the beach across the pond.”

“Or making out in the trails in the woods,” Jill said with a smile.

“Frank and I still do that sometimes,” Vanessa said with a grin.

The other women laughed and I joined in half-heartedly. Hillary went on, “Yeah, it was an amazing summer, the best of my life, really. But then,” she paused.

“Claire,” Jill said, sadly.

“Claire,” Hillary agreed. “It was a Thursday and we’d spent the afternoon at the beach. Frank, Vanessa’s husband, had snuck some beers out of his parent’s basement and the plan was to hang on the beach for a while and then hike back into the woods to drink.

“Around five o’clock the eight of us walked back through the trails up to the pine forest and drank. We each probably had, I don’t know, maybe three, four beers and the time got away from us. I think Jill realized what time it was and we were due home in, like, half an hour. It was a little before eight o’clock and the sun was going down. So we rushed through the trails back to the boat. We had tied it to this little rinky-dink dock at the beach.

“We were panicked about getting home on time and we all hopped in. I know we all got into the boat, we all saw each other for sure. John and Jill, Vanessa and Frank, Claire and Chris, and me and Philip.

“We were drunk,” Jill says, quietly.

“No that drunk,” Vanessa sort of snaps.

“There was no doubt that it was,” Hillary pauses, choosing her words carefully, “irresponsible to get into that boat and let Philip drive. But we were young and stupid. He floored it, a little too hard, and drove us back to the house. We were off the boat and all the way back to the car before we realized that Claire wasn’t with us.”

No,” I said, almost in a whisper. I hadn’t even meant to speak.

“She must have fallen out when Philip gunned the boat away from the dock,” Hillary replied.

“They said she probably hit her head on the dock and drowned,” Vanessa said.

“We didn’t know she wasn’t with us. We were so afraid of missing curfew, we just didn’t know,” Jill says.

“Did you go back out to look for her?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“Chris and Philip did,” Hillary replied. “We decided to go into Philip’s house and use his phone to call our parents and let them know we would be late. We knew that if we didn’t all go home together we’d be in even more trouble than if we missed curfew.”

“My mom could tell something was wrong on the phone and she ended up driving over to Philip’s house,” said Jill.

“We waited at the edge of the lake, watching the boat head towards the beach, then motor along the coastline. Finally it returned, but still, no Claire,” Hillary explained.

“We were hoping that she had fallen out, gotten out of the water and walked along the trail back to Philip’s,” Vanessa said.

“We prayed that was what happened,” Jill said.

“Did you search the trail?” I asked.

“Yes, the boys grabbed flashlights from Philip’s house and walked the trails. We stayed behind hoping that Claire would appear from the woods. Philip’s parents weren’t home, but Jill’s mom showed up. When we explained what happened she immediately called the police and then all of our parents,” said Hillary.

“I think my mom got there next,” said Vanessa.

“Yes, and then mine,” confirms Hillary. “She arrived right along with the police. There was a massive search, through the woods and the pond, but there just wasn’t enough light.”

“They brought in divers the next morning. She was found in shallow water, not too far from the dock,” Vanessa reports.

The three women stare at me. I was the only one blinking back tears. Since having my own kids, stories of young people dying hit me hard. And this was such a cliché. Couldn’t this have been any of us in our teenage years? How the fuck did any of us make it to adulthood? How the fuck was I going to make sure my girls would be strong enough to choose not to get into the boat with the drunk boyfriend and instead deal with the consequences of missing curfew? I know that I hadn’t been strong enough for that at fifteen.

“We’ve upset you,” Hillary states. “I apologize, it truly was a nightmare. The questions by the police, the conspiracy theories at school in the fall, the shock of it all.”

“The death of one of your best friends,” I added.

“Of course,” she said, glancing between Jill and Vanessa who were expressionless.

“That must have been horrible for all of you,” I said, sensing that maybe it hadn’t been all that bad.

“Oh it was,” Jill said, leaning forward in her seat. “It was so sad, and then poor Chris.”

“He killed himself at the lake,” Vanessa explained. “The following winter. Drank some vodka, took a bunch of pills and then jumped in. They didn’t find his body until the pond thawed in the Spring.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” I said, almost crossing myself.

Vanessa stands and grabs the wine bottle, drains it into her glass and opens another one. As she tops off everyone else’s glass Hillary and Jill fill me in on how distraught Chris had been after Claire’s death.

“He just couldn’t get over it,” Hillary says shaking her head in bewilderment. “It was a terrible thing, but it was an accident. None of us had anything to do with it. It’s not like we were responsible.”

What a chillingly affirmative mantra, I thought.

This well-choreographed story was missing something, quite possibly the truth. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” flitted through my mind.

“I’ve never heard or read anything about this drowning,” I said.

“You wouldn’t have,” said Vanessa. “Claire’s parents are lawyers. They worked for the DA then, and it was a different time. It was 1990. The O.J. trial hadn’t happened yet, things could be kept respectfully quiet.”

I refrained from pointing out that O.J.’s had been a murder trial, this, the apparent drowning of a girl in a local pond. One would assume the community would rally around in support, and, if nothing else, use it as a cautionary tale for the town’s youth.

“Well,” I said, taking a breath. “I am just so sorry. I grew up around lakes and I know how fast drownings happen even under the seemingly safest of circumstances.”

“Yeah, it was a tragedy,” Hillary replied. “The three of us felt really guilty about it.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jill said.

“We didn’t know how to process it,” said Vanessa.

“I went to New York City for a couple of weeks the following summer, to visit my cousins,” said Hillary. “We were shopping in Brooklyn this one afternoon and popped into a little occult store. My cousins were checking out the crystals and I came upon this book. It was titled, Summoning Lost Loved Ones. I paged through it and it was filled with spells for communicating with the dead, even one you could use to summon a spirit.

“I bought it and read it cover to cover on the train ride home,” Hillary said, grabbing a cracker off the platter in the center of the table.

“We read it too,” Jill said excitedly. “It was almost like it was written for us, like Hill was supposed to find it there.”

“Most of the spells required three people, there was one that laid out how to summon the spirit of a loved one,” Hillary added.

“It was an invocation of spirit,” Vanessa corrected. “Directions on how to conjure a ghost.”

“Tell me you didn’t -” I began.

“It was all in fun. I mean, not fun. We missed our friend and we felt badly about the way she had died, about the accident, I mean, and this was a way for us to talk to her again, to make peace with her,” Jill jumped in.

I just shook my head and asked, “How’d that turn out for you?”

The three women leaned forward. I fought the urge to push my chair back.

“It took some time to gather everything we needed,” Vanessa began. “There was some memorizing to do, and some, um, supplies to gather. But we were a bit pressed for time. Claire had died on July nineteenth the previous summer. We had to have everything ready for the anniversary of her death.

“We chose a spot near the pond, we needed a place with earth, air, fire, and water. There’s this secluded place, off the trail that sort of dips down into a gully. The wind whips through it and it’s low enough so that water gathers there; not much, but enough. There was plenty of earth and we could build a fire.”

“We all told our parents that we were sleeping at eachother’s houses,” Jill said.

“Luckily none of them bothered to check up on us,” Vanessa said.

“We parked near Philip’s house and lugged our gear to the ground we’d chosen. It was so hot,” Hillary said.

“And buggy,” said Jill.

“But we got everything setup just right,” Hillary continued. “We each had our own part memorized and recited it around the fire. Nessa had this brush that all four of us had used when we would do each other’s hair, so we had pulled the hair out from its bristles and braided it together, it went into the fire along with a picture of Claire.”

“At first it didn’t feel like anything was going to happen,” Vanessa said.

“Then there was this, like, whoosh, like the wind was coming up from the ground all around us and the fire got really bright and then, we could feel her there,” continues Hillary.

“It smelled like her,” Jill said with wide eyes. “She used to wear vanilla extract as perfume, and the forest smelled like vanilla!”

“Uh uh,” I said, silently vowing to always, without exception, call to check in when my daughters said they were sleeping over at a friend’s house.

“Yes, and that wasn’t it,” Hillary said. “It was this feeling, like she was right there with us. It was incredible. And somehow we just knew that she forgave us.”

“For the accident?” I asked.

“Yes,” Jill said quickly. “We wanted her to know that we wished we had seen her fall and that we were sorry we weren’t able to help her.”

“Ok, then what?” I asked, having no idea where this was going.

“Well, then we had this idea that she could maybe help us, from the other side,” Hillary said.

“What gave you that idea?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“The book,” said Vanessa. “There was a spell that could harness a spirit’s power. We knew it was a long shot, but conjuring a ghost was a long shot, so if we were able to manage to do that we figured we would give this a try too. We recited the spell to harness phantasmal force.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

“It was worth a try,” said Hillary with a shrug. “It worked.”

“How?” I asked.

“Well, the vibe definitely changed. The wind stopped, the fire dimmed, and it got really quiet,” said Jill. “So we put forward our intentions.”

“The things we desired,” clarified Hillary.

“Like what?” I asked.

“We wanted to marry our boyfriends, and we each said how many kids we wanted to have,” said Vanessa.

“And we always wanted to live close to one another,” added Jill.

“And we wanted Claire near us, we wanted her to stay,” finished Hillary.

“And?” I asked.

“We live on the same street,” said Hillary. “We’ve married our high school sweethearts.”

“Number of kids?” I asked.

“I’ve had eight miscarriages trying for a second baby,” says Vanessa in an icy tone. “I never thought I would want more than one kid. So, I only asked for one that night.”

I did not know how to respond to that, so I just said, “I’m sorry.”

Vanessa waved this off with a motion of her hand, “The point is, the spell worked.”

“For better or worse,” I said.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“And Claire?” I asked needing a sip of wine but not want them to see my hands shaking.

“She’s been with us since that night,” said Hillary. “That night we asked her to give us each a sign of her presence. Nothing happened in the woods, but we each had experiences, later on,” then she stood up. More wine. If I drank anymore I would risk blacking out, so I declined when she offered to fill my glass again and watched as the three other glasses at the table were filled to the brim.

“She came to me first,” said Jill. “A few nights later I was up late reading on our couch. I was the last to bed so I was flipping off all of the lights downstairs. We had this big window that looked out over our front yard. I turned the foyer light out and glanced out that window, our lamp post was on and I thought I saw someone walk past it.

“I went to the window and saw her. Claire. She was there, in the clothes she had worn the day that,” pause. “That she died. She was looking in at me and I couldn’t look away. Part of me wanted to open the door and run to her and the other knew that I shouldn’t do that. I was completely stunned. I couldn’t move. I don’t know how long, maybe a minute or so we just stared at each other and then she turned and walked out of the lamp light. I couldn’t see her anymore.”

“Holy shit,” I said, again suppressing the inclination to cross myself.

Jill nodded her head and looked at Hillary who said, “I was next. I boarded my horse in Dover, and this one afternoon, about a week after we’d, reached out to Claire, I was riding the trails when something made me look into the woods to my left. I don’t know if I’d heard a noise or what, but I looked and Claire was there. Standing in the middle of the woods about, maybe, twenty or thirty feet back. I stopped the horse, and I raised my hand, like, to wave. It was just an instinct. She didn’t wave back, she just stared at me, then turned and started walking back into the woods.”

“Nope,” I said.

“My turn next,” said Vanessa, placing her wine glass on the table. “I was parked, over by the golf course, with Frank one night. We were in the back seat, just like, going at it and I opened my eyes and Claire was standing there, looking in the fucking car window.”

“No,” I said.

“I screamed and Frank turned to look and he couldn’t see her. I could see her – he couldn’t. She was just standing there. Staring. I freaked the fuck out. I scrambled into the front seat and drove out of there, half-naked,” she said with a small smile. “Frank thought that I had imagined it all. I tried to play it off, but she had been there.”

“Please tell me that’s it,” I said with chills running up and down my body. I wanted to leave, but was afraid to go outside.

“No,” Hillary said as the other two shake their heads.

“I mean, we had asked for her to stay with us, so at first we just tried to accept it as her way of, well, being there,” said Jill.

“We all caught glimpses of her, here and there, which resulted in differing levels of disturbing depending upon the circumstances,” said Hillary.

“Any circumstance under which I glimpsed my dead friend would disturb me,” I said.

“Yes, of course,” said Hillary. “But as long as she stayed outside, we accepted the good with the bad. We had asked for her help from the beyond. We knew we had to take some unwanted things with the things that we wanted.”

“Wait, stayed outside?’” I said.

“She began coming to us at night, in our bedrooms. I think Nessa had it the worst,” said Jill.

I looked at Vanessa. She was draining her glass. She said, “Claire liked to stand at the foot of my bed.”

My hand went to the medal around my neck. I asked, “What did you do?”

“At first we didn’t know what the hell to do. You know, it was only 1991, it wasn’t like we could Google this shit,” said Vanessa.

“I went to the library and found some stuff, but we ended up actually getting help at this occult bookstore in Cambridge. We found it in the yellow pages,” said Jill. “While we were looking around the owner asked us if we needed any help. We ended up telling her what we had done and she told us that we would need a binding spell. That we couldn’t undo what we did, but we could mitigate the damage.”

“We had to go back to the woods, to the same spot, and perform the incantation,” Hillary said.

“And?” I asked.

“And, things got better,” Hillary replied. “We saw her less, and when we did she stayed at a distance.”

“What about now?” I asked.

“It’s the same, really,” said Hillary.

“Uh uh,” I said.

“Again, we have to just take the good with the bad,” she replied. “We married the guys, we have kids, we are wealthy and we all live near one another. She played a role in that, and undoing her part in it might undo the rest of it.”

This was the first mention of “wealth” being a part of their requests. I wondered what else they had left off the list.

“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.

The women look at one another and Vanessa said, “She was just past the tree line at my daughter’s soccer practice last night.”

“Why did you tell me this?” I demanded, genuinely perplexed.

“We thought you would be the only one who would believe us. When Jenn told us about you, we just felt like we could finally, unload it,” said Jill.

I didn’t want to hear another word. I wanted to call my husband to come get me. I didn’t want to ride in an Uber with a stranger. I didn’t want to know these women. I wanted to burn the fucking clothes that I was wearing and take a scalding hot shower to obliterate any particle of connection to them.

“I don’t know what to say,” I began. “I mean, you trapped your best friend here. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“We just thought that something good should come from her death,” said Hillary.

“Was it worth it?” I asked.

None of them answered.


After climbing into the Uber I immediately texted my friends.

Our children are never stepping foot near Morses Pond. I wrote.

MOPO. Heidi responded immediately.


*** Historical information about Morses Pond was found on the Town of Wellesley website athttp://www.wellesleyma.gov/pages/wellesleyma_nrc/morsespond/Page5