August 25, 1937
756 Olive Drive
Fear gripped me. My son slept soundly in his room down the hall. The air was thick and choking, and fear swelled from my husband in waves. I forced a comforting smile. This was nothing, I thought, our overactive imaginations at play.
“It’s nothing,” I said aloud.
He nodded, more out of habit than agreement. I wanted to go to my son’s room but was afraid to. Somehow I knew that would just – make things angry. I could feel my husband’s presence next to me as much as I could see him.
“Watch,” I said to him, gathering my wit. “Whatever you are!” I said with forced bravado to no one in particular. “You’re not welcome here! So you can just leave!” I sounded more brave than I felt.
Even though I spoke with force, the words sounded muffled. I could almost hear the words spoken back to me. Maybe I felt them, I wasn’t sure. Looking back, I knew something was very wrong, but it wasn’t until I stepped out into the hall that I was given the proof.
The hall felt darker, colder, longer than usual. The table lamp in the study was the only source of light and it barely illuminated the outline of my husband behind me, who hadn’t moved from where he stood.
“Fine!”I said as loud as I could muster. Because my fear was literally choking me. Each time I spoke, it took more effort and less sound would come out of me, as if I were in one of those nightmares. “If you don’t leave, then we’re leaving.”
The front door swung open of its own accord, beckoning me. I could hear the foreign thoughts in my mind. ‘Go ahead and leave. But you’re leaving alone.’ The thoughts bombarded my mind, not in words – but as knowledge. I slid quietly into the room next to the study where my aging mother slept. I needed prayers. I collapsed onto her bed and tried to shake her awake. She stirred, but her sleep was deep. When I tried to call out to her, my voice was barely a whisper. I felt like I were in a void.
“Please!” I begged, my throat burning and my voice raspy. “Please!”
I knew there was no use. I wouldn’t get the prayers from my mother. I stood then and felt compelled to look out the window. Three normal looking strangers stood just outside my window, staggered, watching me. I pushed out the screen which caused the stranger, a woman, closest to the window to walk toward it – her arm outstretched.
“Don’t do this!” I said to her.
It didn’t matter. She easily reached into the window and pulled me out with little effort. I collapsed onto the damp, cold grass into a heap – the house behind me. That was the last time I ever saw my family. Whatever it was, it wanted my son, and it got him.
- End recording –