The Sallie House Haunting: A True Story Page 18

  One of the men handed him the closest thing they could find to put out the fire—a can of Pepsi. With the fire out, we realized it was one of the leather-like ears of the rocking horse. It had apparently and suddenly turned into a torch. It was burnt black and crisp around the edge of one ear.

  I hollered at Sallie for starting the fire and sent her to her room. I thought she must really be mad to start a fire like that because lately she had been so good about not doing so. Within minutes, we were all talking about what had happened and wondering to explain it.

  Since Tony had been sitting on the horse, he was concerned about being held responsible. He asked if he could use my lighter experimentally to try to light the other ear. “It’s already ruined,” he said, to forestall my objection. We were all curious to see if, and how, it would catch fire and burn. I knew we needed to rule out the possibility that Tony may have set it on fire, so I reluctantly gave my permission.

  As Tony tried to light the other ear, we realized that the ears on the rocking horse were made of flame-resistant vinyl. Tony and the guys made every attempt to torch them, but they barely caught fire. We concluded that Tony could not have started the fire.

  By 10:30 everyone, except Mark and Samantha and their baby girl had left. We had been standing near the dining room table when Samantha asked who was still in the house. She said she heard footfalls in the room above us. We all stopped to listen, hearing what sounded like thumps on the floor. I suggested that it was the cats, but Samantha pointed out that they were both on the floor near our feet.

  The noise upstairs continued. Apparently, Sallie wanted to make herself known again. I was thankful that it wasn’t another fire. Was this her way of apologizing, of letting us know that she was still upstairs where I had told her to go as a punishment? Was this her way of asking to come back downstairs?

  Mark and Samantha had been to the house often since Taylor’s birth and it seemed that Sallie was comfortable with them. Maybe she even felt safe. Had she acted out because she was not familiar or comfortable with Tom and Chad? Had her fear of them made her act out by scratching and setting the fire?

  On March 28th, Tony and I both noticed that Taylor’s musical clown was playing itself at intervals over the course of the day. We each noticed it on separate occasions. At the end of the day, we concluded that the clown had played itself over half a dozen times.

  Over the course of the next several months, we gained many new acquaintances, some of whom would invite themselves over or stop in without warning. We soon caught on that this was a way for others to challenge us and get a shot at their own paranormal experience as well. They were more inclined to give merit to our claims if we gave them the opportunity to see it for themselves. Allowing all sorts of people into our house had actually become our best attempt to defend ourselves.

  Soon, though, we felt as scrutinized as a zoo exhibit, and although things sometimes happened while others were in the house, many times there was no activity at all. People often left without the proof they were hoping for and we felt this reflected on us personally. On one hand, Tony’s worst fear was that people would not believe us, so for those who would judge us, we took seriously the burden of proof. On the other hand, we wanted our personal and private life back. The frustration of having so many family and friends distance themselves from us because they couldn’t comprehend the situation was excruciating. Although we needed their support more than ever we eventually withdrew from friends, family, and social events. It was at this point that I realized we could no longer put the desire to prove our story ahead of our own life and happiness.

  Trip Out of State: April 1994

  During the last days of March, I had arranged for a trip to my hometown of Buffalo, New York. We had been planning the Easter trip for several weeks, and to head off any negative activity, I had shared this information with Sallie. I also explained that in our absence, our neighbor Lisa would feed and take care of the animals.

  On March 28, and several times throughout that day, we noticed Taylor’s musical clown play music without anyone winding it up. Perhaps it was Sallie’s way of letting us know she was around and happy. These were the only disturbances we noticed prior to leaving for New York.

  We drove to New York a few days later and arrived in Buffalo early the next day. We stopped at my sister’s business to pick up the key to her house and went on to the house to unpack and rest. We made several trips in and out, and on one of these trips I heard a noise from the basement door. It was open. I knew with Kori being so young, Karen would not have left it open, so I closed it and continued unloading the car. Moments later, I again found it open.

  Tony denied doing anything to the door, so I checked to be sure it was catching right, and shut it once again. Again I found it open and moving to and fro as if in a slight breeze. I told Tony what was happening and we both knew that Sallie had come with us. This was the only strange or unexplainable event we encountered while staying with my sister.

  Six days later, we traveled to my father’s house, eighty miles southwest of Buffalo. This was the first time my father had met my husband and Taylor. Dad’s fiancée Christine and her children were at the house when we arrived. Matt and Tim were sixteen and seventeen, respectively, and her daughter Shelia was fifteen. About three years earlier, I had stayed briefly at Christine’s house and gotten to know them rather well.

  We talked, laughed, and shared photos while Christine cooked a special Easter dinner. Afterward while we women cleaned up, Dad asked Tim to turn off the outside light. It was a tall lamp in the front yard which shed a lot of light on the surrounding area.

  Twenty minutes later Dad was quite upset. “Tim, I thought I asked you to turn off the big outside light.”

  Tim defended himself and walked over to the switch to double check. “See, it’s still flipped down,” he reported. He then flipped it up, but nothing happened. When he flipped it down again, the light went off. Knowing how mad Dad would get if he had not followed his directions properly, Tim immediately restated his defense. “I know I turned it off because when I looked outside, it wasn’t on.” I exchanged a quick look with Tony before informing Dad that it could have been something that came with us—Sallie.

  Dad looked at me, puzzled and skeptical. “She came with you?”

  Tony quickly chimed in, “We’re not sure, but we think so.”

  “How could she come with you?” Tim asked.

  Although we certainly tried to explain things without sounding like freaks, it was a hard sell. The conversation made some folks curious and it made others uncomfortable. In an attempt to put everyone at ease, we pulled out some of the photos we had brought along for the trip.

  I’m not sure if it was the late hour, the fact that Christine had worked a long day in the kitchen, or that the topic of conversation had upset her, but about ten minutes after the photos came out, she and her children left for their own home. We looked through all the pictures and talked about each one, then the topic of Sallie faded and we enjoyed a quiet evening before retiring to bed.

  About mid-afternoon the next day, we said our good-byes and left for the long drive home. We made even better time on the drive back and arrived in Kansas very early the next morning. Except for two hours of the drive, Taylor had slept the entire way. Knowing he would soon be awake with energy to spare, we dropped him off at Tony’s parents’ house before we got to our own.

  We woke up late that afternoon and unpacked the car. Tony picked up Taylor while I stayed behind to unpack the cooler and suitcases. While I was doing so, our neighbor Lisa came over to welcome us back home and ask about the trip. We chatted a while and I thanked her for looking after our pets. Then in a whisper, as if someone might hear her, she said, “I wouldn’t come over without Joe.” She squinted up her face and continued talking in the same whisper. “I was scared.”

  I remember laugh
ing to myself. She reported that neither she nor her husband had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

  The next day, while Taylor was sleeping in the nursery, Tony and I decided to give the car a much-needed cleaning inside and out. On one of Tony’s trips into the house to get an item or two, he witnessed something strange in the front foyer. The railing that went along the right-hand side of the stairs was shaking somewhat violently. It had been loose and wobbly for a while, so the exaggerated movement was quite noticeable.

  Several minutes later I entered the house, wondering what had been taking Tony so long. He told me what he had seen and together we tried to figure out what had happened. Nothing we came up with could explain how the railing could have rattled like that without someone shaking it.

  On April 17, I received another phone call from Barbara in California. She had gotten my last letter and the Christmas photos I’d sent which showed what looked like two separate entities. During this conversation, she confirmed that there was another spirit in the house. The spirit was an older person, a woman, someone close to Sallie, perhaps her mother, and she was trying to get Sallie to go with her. She felt that this woman usually wore a hat but sometimes she took it off. “She’s about five-foot six or five-foot seven with light-colored hair, and she is very spirited,” Barbara said.

  Having gotten Barbara’s definition of the different colors that spirits might give off in accordance with their emotional state, I asked her why the two spirits in the Christmas photos had presented the way that they did. She had previously told me that murky colors were a sign of anger or protectiveness. I explained that we had been very festive through the holiday and had invited Sallie to join us in many holiday activities. I also expressed concern over this other spirit and questioned whether it was in any way a threat.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I think the woman wants Sallie to go with her and Sallie doesn’t want to go.” She went on to affirm that the colors in the photos seemed to signify conflict, perhaps anger or frustration. She assured us that these emotions were not directed at us and were nothing to worry about. She did urge us to keep her informed. She also told us that if anything crazy started to happen or things started getting out of hand, we should call her right away and she would do what she could to help.

  Before ending our phone call, I told her about our recent road trip to Buffalo and asked her if she knew whether Sallie had gone with us or stayed behind. “Both,” she said. Before I could ask what she meant, she continued, “She went with you but she was bored and went back home to look after the house like you asked her to.”

  I found it interesting that she mentioned that I asked Sallie to look after the house—it was not information that I had volunteered to her in any conversation.

  What she said made perfect sense and was likely why we had noticed relatively little strange activity. The two experiences we had while in New York surely could have been caused by Sallie, but they were playful things. She did not do anything bad and she didn’t do anything to scare anyone.

  While Barbara continued talking, my mind drifted. How was Sallie able to travel with us and then miraculously find her way back home again without guidance or a vehicle? How did she travel? How long did it take? Barbara graciously explained that spirits work in different ways from the living and before that statement could sink in and provoke more questions, we were saying goodbye. I sighed with some frustration but figured it was something that could wait until the next time we talked. Most importantly, we knew that Sallie could and did travel with us.

  Quiet time: May 1994

  For more than a month after our return from New York, nothing happened except the incident Tony had witnessed the day after our homecoming. I don’t want to discredit him or what saw that day, but if I don’t see a thing for myself, I tend not to believe it. At the very least, I wonder what else could have reasonably caused an event. With the house so quiet and inactive, I certainly did begin to question whether there had been any activity since we returned home.

  Five weeks and two days after our return, I still had not seen a sign of Sallie’s presence. This was the longest duration without activity we had had to date. Again, I was worried that she had left us; I actually began to feel a great loss not knowing whether she was around. I realized how attached I had grown to her; it was more than I’d ever imagined possible. How crazy was that?

  What really surprised me was the extent of the loss I felt. I was sad, angry, and depressed. In trying to accept the possibility that Sallie might not come back, I felt hurt and empty, as though I had lost a good friend. I displayed all the signs of emotional upheaval: I was withdrawn, cranky, rash, and irritable. In addition, I had no patience with the baby or Tony and I desperately wanted someone to blame for this loss.

  Perhaps, though, Sallie was closer than I thought. Within a few days of my realizing what havoc my emotions were in, she gave us a small sign that she was still with us.

  It was about ten o’clock in the evening when Tony and I saw the wooden balls on the ceiling fan swing in that familiar way. The behavior continued for about thirty minutes and it amazed me how content that sign made me feel. At the same time, I struggled with more questions. Why had she been so quiet since our return? Was she spending a lot of time somewhere else? Had her trip with us all but depleted her energy? Was she regenerating? Maybe she was just as exhausted from the trip as we were.

  sixteen

  June 1994

  By the first of June, Sallie was back and as active as ever. At 5:30 that evening, Tony was in the kitchen. Taylor stood at the baby gate in the doorway and seemed to be intently watching something in the dining room. Suddenly, Tony heard the Mickey Mouse musical toy in the dining room start playing. No animal or person was anywhere near it. At 8:00 that night, with Taylor asleep in the nursery and Tony and me on the couch, the toy played itself off and on for about fifteen minutes. It happened again at 9:15 p.m., then again around 10:30 p.m.

  This happened so often that I wondered if Sallie was trying to tell us something important—perhaps something was wrong with Taylor as he slept in the nursery. I scurried up the stairs to check on him, but he was perfectly fine.

  June 2nd was another musically active day. At 7:30 a.m., I went to the kitchen to fix a bottle for Taylor and the Mickey Mouse toy sounded once more. It happened again about 2:00 p.m. Two minutes later, the toy phone in the living room played its own musical tune. The last tune of the day was played by the Mickey Mouse toy at 2:25 p.m.

  On June 7th, the three of us and my in-laws were leaving the house. Tony and I had talked about moving to another house and his parents were anxious to help. Many times Tony’s mom had voiced her fear that there was something evil in our house. She wanted us to move. Earlier that day she had called to tell me about a house she wanted us to look at. As I opened the car door, I remembered something I wanted to take with me and went back to the house. When I opened the front door, I heard voices. For a moment it alarmed me, but then I realized it was the TV—the same one I had turned off minutes earlier. “Okay, Sallie, if you want to watch TV, I’ll leave it on for you.” I quickly grabbed what I needed and headed back out to the car.

  Taylor was almost a year old at this point and a week later his delight with the musical clown suddenly turned to fear. For him to look at it was one thing, but as soon as I would wind it up, he was terrified of it. I wondered, since we wound it up and set it nearby each night when we laid him down, if he was beginning to associate the clown with going to bed. A logical assessment, but I soon realized I was very wrong.

  I had removed the clown from Taylor’s bedtime ritual and kept it with his toys in the living room. A few days later, he found it and showed great joy in doing so. Thinking we had broken the association of the clown with bedtime, I wound it up for him to enjoy the music. To my surprise his look of delighted turned to total terror. He scurried over to me and c
rawled up into my lap, trembling as he held on tightly.

  I tried a few more times to present the clown again in fun ways, but each time it was met with the same hysteria. I couldn’t help thinking that no child should ever be this scared of a toy. I figured he just needed more time to forget the association he had made, and again found a place to hide it for a few days before I tried to reacquaint him with it. This time his reaction was even worse. Just the sight of it sent him into a frenzy. In fact, he wouldn’t even look at it, often reaching out blindly to push it away. Finally, on June 17, I became more proactive. Taylor had already caught sight of the clown sitting on one of the built-in shelves in the living room and was in a major panic. I took him into the kitchen and we got a large paper bag. Although I felt Taylor, even as young as he was, should somehow be able to face his fears, I opened the bag and explained that we were going to send the clown away. I was sure that if he took part in sending it away, he would feel a lot better.

  Taylor seemed to understand exactly what I had told him, and with that knowledge it didn’t seem bother him to pick up the clown and put it in the bag. I rolled up the top of the bag, we walked to the front door, and I put it outside. “Now you go away, clown,” I said in a stern voice. “Go away.” We shut the door, and that was the last time Taylor saw the musical clown until we moved.

  For a long time I wondered why my wonderfully contented son had all of a sudden become so frightened of one of his favorite toys. Crazy ideas went through my head. Taylor had two musical clowns; he was still willing to sleep with the other one in his crib. None of the musical toys had ever frightened him before (or since). Could it be that Sallie or another spirit had used this particular clown to interact with Taylor? Had this spirit set out to play with him or had it intentionally wanted to scare him? If in play, had the playfulness become too rough?