#14 Scary Places
Have you ever been to a place that made you so uncomfortable you couldn't wait to get away and never go back?
No, I am not talking about the dentist's office. I mean somewhere you went unassuming; just a regular place that somehow, all of a sudden filled you with dread. A house, or a room, or a location whose aura was creepy, foreboding, or even evil. I have, twice. How about you?
What made me think about this today was a Facebook post by a lady visiting an old house. She was walking around, casually taking pictures, when an awful anxiety came over her. She said she just knew she must flee immediately, putting as much distance between her and that place as possible. Her husband was finally able to help her calm down on the way home, but it was such a moving occurrence she felt the need to write about it.
Now, I am not one to go in for ghost stories or hauntings, but that lady's posting sure rang a bell with me. Maybe it did with you also. Two such happenings instantly came to mind as I was reading; and I recognized the heart stopping panic she described.
My flight-prompting encounters came just in the course of my usual everyday life. No midnight jaunts to decrepit dwellings or exploring of overgrown graveyards looking for thrills. Both times I was going about the business of life when it was like I stumbled upon something other-worldly. The Facebook Lady said she felt as if she "had tread on holy ground uninvited". Exactly!
The first time I came upon such a place was a bright, sunny day; not a stormy, gloomy All Hallows Eve. We had moved into a small home, provided housing which came with our employment. Since we needed extra storage space a friend offered the use of the upstairs of a house he was living in, but did not own. Being a single fella, he only occupied the ground floor.
That day I drove over to his place to retrieve a box of holiday decorations. It was my first trip to the upstairs storerooms as HeHimself and friends had done the stowage of our extra goods and chattels without me. Our friend was busy working in his study, so I ventured up alone. Cue the suspenseful music now, please.
I opened the door at the bottom of the stairwell and started my ascent. Even though sunshine shone partway down the stairs from above, I shivered. I only got half the way to the second floor when I began to think I did not want to go any further. "Silly girl," I told myself, and pressed on.
By the time I got to the top I could only think to run back down and out the door, never mind getting the decorations. Despite knowing how irrational my feeling was, it took pure grit to force myself to walk around looking for the box I needed. It was as if something did not want me to be there.
There was absolutely nothing strange about the house itself or its setting; as a matter of fact, I thought it was rather charming. Well, from the outside or on the ground floor, that is. Thankfully, I found what I was looking for quickly and was able to make a speedy escape, calling a hasty "Thanks muchly" to our friend, who was way too busy to notice my pale face and breathlessness. He didn't even look up, just gave a wave and muttered, "OK, bye" as he typed away at his work.
It took me a bit to recover myself, but I drove away as soon as I was able. I feared our friend would look up, notice me still sitting there in the car, and wonder why. The last thing I wanted was for him to come running out asking if the car would not start or something. I was too shook up to have been able to explain.
Okay, that was my first brush with the Great Unknown. It was an unnerving experience, but I chose not to dwell on it, and over time, it receded into a back corner of my mind. Because of the nature of our life's work, we relocated every now and again. This necessitated more than the usual amount of house hunting. My second go-round came during one such residence-seeking day, traipsing from one vacant house to another, shepherded by an ever hopeful real estate agent.
One of properties on our Maybe List was a large brick pre Civil War home on an acreage. While HeHimself listened patiently to the real estate man's spiel, I wandered away, poking into every nook and cranny, considering the potential of this diamond in the rough.
After trundling room to room on the second floor I headed down a hallway to a door that looked like it might open on an attic room over a single story portion of the house. As I neared the door, I felt a chill which was unusual as it was a warm day. When I reached for the doorknob a thought flitted through my mind, "Should I really open this door?", but I quickly shook off that idea and proceeded.
I am sure you have already guessed what happened next. It was like reliving my holiday box retrieval expedition. As I peered into the darkness of the attic room toward the small window at the other end, like the Facebook Lady, I was overcome with anxiety and dread. Something about that space bade me not to enter and seemed to take my breath away. I quickly shut the door and flew downstairs. Needless to say, we did not end up with that home, sadly for the estate agent, but thankfully for me.
Just so you know, I am not ordinarily a wimpy, lily livered type of person, not given to old wives' tales or superstition. I like to think of myself as pretty brave in most circumstances, but I can hardly imagine what inducement it might take to get me to go back to either of those places. Nope, not up for a return trip anytime soon.
So, have you ever experienced something like that? I think the Facebook Lady and I are not alone. Well, actually I hope we are alone and what we felt were just figments of our imaginations.
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