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relocate. Believe me I wanted to move, it was just easier said than done. The plan of action was in full force though. I was looking for a new place to call all OUR own. The more modern the better.

Finally. Finally, we would be moving, but not before the most chilling phenomenon took place at our current residence.

"Tim, knock it off!" I held back my tears as he turned three shades of white, while we played a game of Rummy. "I'm serious Tim! This isn't funny!"

"Don't turn a-round." He emphasized every syllable while His voice shook and his eyes watered.

I had my son sitting on my lap due to another sleepless night. It was a little after midnight.

"What are you TALKING about? What do you mean don't turn around? Tell me what's going on! Tim!"

Before either of us could say another word I was made all to aware of the intrusion. My son began to scream. His legs being pulled in an outward direction as he clang to my body.

"Tell me what's going on, pleeeaase!" I wailed as I played tug of war with my son, against something unseen.

"Oh my God. Oh my God ... Oh my." Tim repeated throughout the occurrence.

The tug of war lasted for about three minutes, yet felt like an eternity. At long last, the invisible villain released his grip from son, though we all remained shaken.

"H-h-he went in, into the basement." Tim panted.

"One more week." I panted back. "One more week and we can move!"

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