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Apparitional Encounter

The sound of a baby crying followed by an evil laugh ricocheted through the old farmhouse. Marsha bolted upright in bed clutching the covers tightly to her bosom, her heart pounding like a jackhammer in her chest. It eerie sound lasted only a few short moments then dead silence.

She waited for what seemed an eternity then slipped quietly from bed and peered out the bedroom door. A faint light shone from under the door at the far end of the hall. She had turned all the lights off before she went to bed, she was sure she had. She eased her way back to the bedside table and picked up the phone, the line was dead. It had been working perfectly fine this morning.

She stood there in the moonlit bedroom taking in short gasps of air trying to force them around the lump that had risen in her throat. She glanced around the bedroom for a weapon her eyes stopped on the fire poker hanging next to the old covered fireplace. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the poker gripping it with such force her knuckles turned white, then she eased out into the hall. Bracing her back against the wall she side stepped slowly toward the light.

Perspiration dripped from her forehead stinging her eyes. She stopped at the edge of door, wiped her face on the sleeve of her gown and listened. Silence. Should she call out or just push open the door and try to catch the intruder off guard? She glanced quickly back toward her room. Maybe she should just creep back to her bedroom and hide. What, and wait for whoever or whatever to come get you? she thought. Strike first is what her dad use to say. Take'um by surprise if you can. She wished her dad were here now.

Gripping the poker in both hands, she prodded the door gently. It swung open without a sound. Light flooded the hallway. Her back tight against the wall she peeked around the door frame. She saw no one. Slowly, carefully, she entered the room. The windows were closed and all the boxes still sat neatly stacked against the back wall just as she had left them. She relaxed her grip on the poker. "You must have forgotten to turn the light off." Her whisper sounded loud and ghostly in the quietness sending a shiver down her spine. Quickly, she switched off the light, propped the door open and headed back down the hall. Just as she reached her room, she heard it again, a baby crying followed by that witch haunting laughter. She spun, light flooded the hall and the door slammed shut.

Terrified she stumbled into her room grabbed her shoes in one hand, jeans and sweater in the other and ran from the house. As she backed out the drive, she glanced back at the old farmhouse. In the light from the window, she saw the silhouette of an old decrepit looking woman holding a baby. Then the house went completely dark.

She had been so excited about finding a place in country she could afford. No wonder old man Jacobs had sold her the place so cheap. He was probably sitting in front of his TV laughing his fool head off at her. She had went on and on to him about how the peace and tranquility of the country would be a welcomed change from the hustle and bustle of city life. Her small townhouse flat with security guards and bellmen suddenly had a much greater appeal. Change isn't always what it's cracked up to be, she thought, as the lights of city came into view.

Learn more about this author, Debbie Seko.
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