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Forum Index -> Galleries (Public) -> Writings of Roserock (Public)
 Topic: Elizabeth  
Author Original Topic Post

a published author

About Roserock
Joined: 17 Aug 2007
Posts: 2
Location: (not given)
Occupation: (not given)
Subject:  Elizabeth
Date:  Aug 27, 2007 1:25:41 am

One day, I went to an old house that had been converted to an antique store. I climbed the rickety stairs holding on dearly to the handrail. I looked over some of the overpriced goodies that I'd love to have but didn't need. I found my way to a tiny closet that contained old hats with yellowed white tags dangling from each. I went in the room not expecting to buy a thing, but was surprised to find the small closet with a tiny window. I stood in the room and felt the presence of a little girl. I can't explain the feeling, but the presence permeated the room. I didn't see her, but I felt her. A sadness and loneliness waited in that room. I ran out of the room terrified. I cannot say why. I just felt terrified. I left the little house with the little room and went home.

When, I got home, a message waited on my phone. I called the service and heard a little girl's voice crying. I could make out only a word or two, but I knew the little girl was upset.

"Mommy, mommy?"

My stomach flipped and my throat was dry. I saved the message and played it over and over again. I could not make out the words, but I knew she was upset and desperate. My heart ached. I saved the message for my family. I didn't tell them about the little room, but asked them to listen to the message. They listened and remarked about how it was unintelligible. They curiously replayed the recording trying in vain to figure out the message and help the little girl. Finally, I told them about the little old house with the little room, and the tiny window. My daughter was with me and told everyone that she didn't see or feel anything, but Mommy was scared like I'd never seen her. The rest of the family went pale. That was my first run in with the little girl, but not my last.

After the visit to the antique shop and the phone call, activity heated up. I would lie in bed and hear voices. I'd tell my husband, and he'd snarl something about I hate when you do this. So, I found myself alone in my room one night. My husband was working late in the kitchen. The sound of voices permeated my room. I decided to listen. Maybe I could make out some word or phrase. Suddenly, the door to my room opened and my husband said, "Whom are you talking to."

Since then he didn't come up with white noise explanations to make us both feel better, because it wouldn't work. More and more members of my family started to report hearing and seeing things that couldn't be explained. For instance, one night I was on the phone with my mother. She asked me if I'd ever lost a piece of jewelry? I said yes and told her about my favorite pair of simple gold earrings that I had lost about two years ago. I turned around and the pair of earrings was just sitting on the kitchen counter. Another strange point was my baby granddaughter would not sleep in my room. She would scream in terror. Then my mother came to visit and overslept. She said, " I woke up when I heard a voice say, "Wake up, Mary, it's time to sing." She said it was my father who woke her with his voice. Only problem was that my father had died seven years prior that wake up call.

There were many more instances, but the most interesting to me was when I returned to the old antique house and my car stalled right outside the window of the old house and right in sight of the tiny window. I was able to restart the car and hobbled away to a gas station. Still I was determined and returned another day.

I decided to make another attempt at the little antique house. This time I went with my daughter who was then eighteen. Everyone including my daughter had a fine time making fun of my encounters and me. So when I arrived at the house, my daughter went in embarrassed that I would even go back. However, when I arrived, I found the room boarded up. It was blocked with boards and shelves and furniture. The owners were using it for storage. I would not be deterred. I started to move things away from the door. Suddenly, the owner came in and was horrified by my behavior.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I just stuttered and stumbled as I had a display of old hats in my hands and looked quite suspicious. For once, words eluded me. As I tried to explain that I wanted to see the little room, the woman said, "You know?"

"Know what?" I left it for her to fill in the blanks.

My daughter stood transfixed.

The woman said, "The ghost. Some say she's a poltergeist!"

It's true then. We shared stories. She told of mischief in the room. Noises and displays turned upside down. The owners decided to wall off the room. I explained that I am a Christian schoolteacher and if this got out, I'd be fired. We both promised to keep our little secret, and my daughter, and I left.

The activity was quiet; I was relieved. Then, while we were packing to leave in two days on a cruise, at 2:00 am came a loud pounding on our house. It sounded hollow upon our brick home. It woke my husband, my daughter, and me. My daughter crawled into bed with us until the pounding stopped. It stopped after two or three minutes. We were seriously terrified.

The next night on the evening before the cruise at 2:00 am again the same pounding came. We left the next day for the cruise. That was a happy time. The pounding didn't ever come again.

Now, while cleaning my bedroom after our return from vacation, I was walking on my bedroom carpet with bare feet. I was startled to find the floor cold. I mean ice cold. It was mid-summer in Oklahoma where you can't find a cold spot in the entire state. I called to my husband to come.

He said, "I hate when you do this."

I had him feel the spot. He did and turned a funny color greenish gray. He was scared; I was kind of fascinated. He measured the cold area and found it to be a perfect circle about four feet in diameter. We talked about what to do, and we decided we'd take the high road and pray. We joined hands and prayed holding our hands over the area. The rug warmed and ended that terror. But more was to follow.

Strange occurrences continued for years. My children all grew up knowing that we had something in that house, and we jokingly called her, Elizabeth, but deep down we really weren't laughing.

Even the daylight was not free of my Elizabeth. Once, I walked outside to take out the trash, and as I walked past my cast iron barbeque, it began to shake back and forth and side to side. I stared at it at first and then decided to make my way quickly back into the house. I called to my poor husband to come quickly. By now he knew the drill. I told him to come outside to see. The barbeque stood still as if mocking me. I told him how the barbeque was shaking in all directions. He showed me that even a wind couldn't do that. We both turned and walked back into the house knowing full well what moved that barbeque.

For a few weeks and even months, there would be no activity then, it would begin again. Always something new awaited us. Now, it was feet. On my bed as I would lie alone then without warning I felt two little feet press down beside me. The feet didn't move, but they stood near me as if watching over me. I couldn't breathe for fear. Finally, my husband came in and found me pale.

"She's in here." I whispered.

With these words my husband went in to shave. I guess it's a man thing. Ignore what she's saying, and she'll shut up. I whispered harshly, "She's in here. She's on the bed."

I felt her leave with those words. That was the first time I felt terror, but the terror melted into tears. I wondered what she wanted from me. Did the sound of my voice or my husband's presence scare her away? I don't know if you can understand this, but I was attached to this entity whoever or whatever it was. It existed to me, and I needed her in my life.

I decided not to tell the kids about this last incident. However, it wasn't long that my eldest married daughter, Susan, came running out of my room. She had gone in my room to take a nap before dinner, and she came out screaming.

"Mom, she's on your bed."

I was inwardly relieved, but I knew something had to be done. Shortly after this, my husband got a new job, and we moved to Massachusetts. I wondered what would happen to Elizabeth. Would she come with me or stay with house? She didn't come. We were free of her. My eldest daughter moved into the house with her family. I came to visit often, and on my first visit back, my youngest daughter turned pale.

She said, "Mom, she's there!"

She swore she saw her manifest in the hall looking around the wall straight at me. We sat at the table eating silently. Then, we heard my son's voice. I heard the front door open and my son who was away at college came in, dropped his suitcase on the floor, and said, "Mom, I'm home."

"Kent?" I asked surprised, as he wasn't due home in the middle of the week.

There were four of us sitting at that table. My oldest daughter Susan got up to go to him. I turned smiling, but my husband and youngest daughter, Amanda continued eating. Susan went to her brother, but he wasn't there. We had both heard the same sounds; we both heard the same words. "Mom I'm home." But the other two at the table heard nothing.

That night we slept an uneasy sleep. I felt Elizabeth come into my room. It was early morning. Yes, I was asleep, but in that sleep, I knew she was there. My blood ran cold throughout my veins. I can never remember such fear. I would not open my eyes because I knew I'd see her. Then, I felt her breath on my face.

In a breathy long wind, she said, "Hello!"

That's the last scream I ever made. I left that house. My daughter stayed with her family, but she kept Christian music on twenty-four hours a day. No one has heard or seen Elizabeth since. Even after I moved back into that house, nothing occurred. I jokingly tell my daughter that she bored Elizabeth to death.

But you know, I couldn't leave well enough alone. I went back to the old antique store. My newly adopted daughter who was ten at the time didn't know of Elizabeth except for bits and pieces she'd hear someone mention. I didn't want her to know.

A simple Thursday was the day, I took my youngest daughter to the antique store. We made our way up to the little room. It had changed ownership many times. I went almost desperately to that little closet with the window. My daughter was behind me.

She said, "Mommy."

I answered, "What?"

My daughter said, "I didn't say that, Mommy. Who did?"
Author Reply Post

a published author

About WordTickler
Joined: 17 Jun 2007
Posts: 369
Location: USA
Occupation: Writer
Subject:  Re: Elizabeth
Date:  Jan 04, 2008 7:21:47 am

You've cleaned it up Smile

This reads even better the second time around.

My Best,

-= WordTickler =-
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