“Recycled” by Alex M.

Posted by on Jun 6, 2018 in Uncategorized | Comments Off on “Recycled” by Alex M.

Northeastern Pennsylvania has plenty of stories if you stop and listen. Growing up, I listened. When hot summer days with the relatives grew into warm summer nights, and it became too dark to look at pictures anymore, you’d start hearing the stories of the things they had seen when they were kids themselves.

Looming large was the haunted house where my aunt, uncle, and several assorted cousins once lived. There were always the classics. Turning lights off only for them to mysteriously come back on. Hearing banging and inhuman noises coming from the kitchen. She’d go down the steps and it would get louder and louder until it sounded like a train in the next room. Then she’d open the door, the sound would immediately stop, and there would be nothing. Other times, she’d find the furniture stacked on the table or upside down. She’d turn around, turn back, and it would all be righted. Hard to blame the people in the house when they’d stumble down the steps behind her or be found still sound-asleep in their rooms.

Two of my cousins once saw a bright light on their wall. They thought it must be light coming in through the window. They dared each other to inspect it closer. One passed his hand right over it to block the light, but the light on the wall didn’t dim.

One day, they found my one cousin on her bed, surrounded by candles, and in a trance, chanting over and over, “He loves me.” They were unable to break her out of the trance. Screaming in her ear, trying to physically stop her, loud noises, nothing worked. Not even a reflex response. They finally threw a bucket of water on her. To this day, she doesn’t remember what happened during that trance or where she got the candles.

That’s not to say these occurrences are limited to only this area. Another cousin used to live in New Jersey when he was a baby. Had a house some distance from the road. One day, his mother picked him up and he told her about the man with the glowing red eyes. The man was looking at him through the window, he said. The window was in up high on the wall, over eight feet off the ground outside with no sill for animals to land on. There were no trees nearby and the road was too distant for it to have been headlights.

These things are out there. These things happen. One has only to listen.