Chapter I: Poltergeists Aplenty
From 1970 to 1974 we lived in Groton, Mass. in a house that was built around 1850 or so. It was a classic two-story colonial with an attached three-car garage and office, plus a large barn down by Pollywog Creek.
Under the office was a brick-lined room with stairs that led down to another room that we were told was used to house runaway slaves on the underground railway.
Later on, we also found out that there had been a church on a corner of the 3-acre property, and that one day in the 1860's the congregation gathered there dressed in white robes. They had just sold all of their worldly goods and assembled to await the end of the earth.
When the day passed with no sign of disaster, the elders conferred and decided that there had been a miscalculation of the date, that it was the next year. As the story goes, everyone went away, and indeed came back the next year. Unfortunately, that day of disaster passed with nothing of the sort. The church was dissolved, and the building was torn down.
This sets the mood for our entry into ownership of the property in the fall of 1970. After closing on the house, I went out there from work one dusk, and simply sat on the stairs and communed with the place. Once I sensed that it was a warm and welcoming home, and delighted that someone was going to refurbish it again, I called for the wife and kids to roll up there from Silver Spring, Maryland, where we had been living for a few years.
Little did I know what an adventure it was going to be! As fall turned into winter, the snows came, and before December, we had piles of snow on the roadsides from plowing that were six or seven feet high. Our autos were still equipped with long antennas, fortunately, since they could hold a little flag on them to signal you were at a turn to others on the road.
Other than that, we had to knock down icicles from the roof that were about eight inches in diameter and ten feet long: we found out that the roof did not have the needed deicing system everyone else had. The fixup list was growing!
That December, we began to have a rather irritating series of missing right-hand gloves, all of us, me, the wife and our two daughters. Gloves, good ones, are not cheap, and to replace them all winter was getting to be too much. My wife had complained bitterly when she couldn't find her new long and expensive kid gloves. By February, I was furious, and stomped around the house accusing it of betraying the trust we had established that fall.
That night, as we were in the kitchen fixing dinner, and talking about our days, the wife went to a cabinet to get a zip bag. She opened the drawer, and pulled out a brand-new box, and opened it. To her astonishment, she came up with her black kid gloves out of that box. We all saw her do it and her screams were almost well-deserved when we also saw the gloves. Thus began the four years of poltergeist pranks at our Groton home. But we never missed any gloves again!
Then began the nightly squeaking and clumping steps up and down the upstairs hall at about eleven or later. There was no mistaking the footsteps! Each night, I would jump out of bed, grab my gun, and peer out into the hall, then go out to check on the kids. I never saw anyone, not even the kids, who were in their beds in their rooms, asleep. We kept their doors closed to ensure their rooms were warm and not drafty. If they had been running around the hall, we would have known it by the terrible noise the doors made at that time that WD-40 wouldn't touch.
Winter descended full force in January, and the cold was unbelievable! When I let the youngest's daughter's dog out at six am, the thermometer hanging outside registered -26 degrees.
Despite the cold, my wife took the kids with her to the mall in Burlington one Saturday afternoon. So I had a few hours to myself, and decided to have some coffee, then I grabbed a book I was interested in and sat down to enjoy myself at the table in our big, warm, newly renovated kitchen.
The phone rang. I put the book down on our nice long white counter and went to the wall phone we had just installed. It was a church member talking about some arrangements or another. When we finish our chat, I turned to pick up my book from the counter and get back to reading. The book was not there. I stared at the spot where it was supposed to be for 30 or 40 seconds, before I could assimilate the fact.
No one was in the house but me, it was locked up tight, and the wife and kids were about 20 miles away. So where had the book gone? I started searching, first all over the kitchen, then in all the rooms on the first floor, and I was getting madder and madder all the time.
Then, I remembered what I had done about the gloves, turned on my sternest voice and demanded my book back right now! When I walked back into the kitchen, there was the book, just where I had left it.
My degree in physics was shattered into little pieces! No explanation was possible, but I could put a name to it: poltergeists! Not a very satisfactory conclusion, but there was nothing I could do! There was much more to come.
Chapter I: Poltergeists Aplenty br br From 1970 t... (
Fascinating and yes no other explanation available. Especially in the disappearance and reappearance upon command to return it.
Look forward to hearing about these so much more to come these things fascinate me. Look as we may for an answer they are not to come too often not to come.
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