Ghosts In The WallsPosted: July 23, 2012 | |
We think the house is haunted – and only Mom can communicate with the spirits that have obviously gathered here.
It started awhile back, maybe a year or so ago, with the ‘voices’ in the middle of the night. At least once a week, usually at breakfast, Mom would announce that people had been talking so loudly that it woke her up. I wrote about this in I Hear Voices.
After a time, we thought common sense had prevailed since there were no more reports of loud midnight gab-fests on the sidewalk outside her bedroom, but we were wrong. It had only morphed into different sounds. Now, it was vehicle noises: revving car engines, horns honking and trucks rumbling by – all during the ungodly hours of pre-dawn morning. I told you a little about this in That Cracks Me Up and even more in Hot Rods and Retirees.
Then the sounds moved off the street and into the house. A couple of months ago she started complaining about the tapping in her bedroom wall. This was followed a month later by claims that the house was vibrating (see Good Vibrations and Big-A-Bang-A-Boom).
Now, it seems, she’s hearing construction in the neighborhood. A few days ago she asked me if I’d heard hammering.
“Nope,” I replied. “Where’s it coming from?”
“The backyard, maybe down a few houses. I think someone’s building an addition or maybe fixing their roof or something.”
“Well, I haven’t heard it. Let me know when it starts up again and I’ll see if I can find out what’s going on,” I offered.
A couple of days later, she called me into the living room.
“They’re at it again,” she announced.
“Who?” I asked.
“The people that are building something. Can’t you hear the hammering?”
“No, but I’ll go check it out.” I walked into the Arizona Room and opened the sliding door to the sun porch to see what I could hear.
Nothing. No hammers, saws, horns or talking. Just silent waves of 107 degree heat sweeping over me and into the house.
I walked back into the living room, shaking my head as I said, “Nothing going on, Mom. It’s quite as a grave out there.”
She looked at me like I was the crazy one before pursing her lips and answering with a gutteral, “Hmmmpf!” After a momentary pause, she added, “Well, it must be on the TV.”
“Mom, it’s Jeopardy. Why would there be hammering?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s from behind the scenes. Or maybe it’s noise from another show. You know, bleeding over like on the telephone.”
“Maybe,” I replied. “Or maybe it’s the air conditioner kicking on.”
“I doubt that,” she proclaimed, than added, with a final nod of her head, “It’s the TV.”
“What’s wrong with the TV?” Bill asked, coming in from the garage.
“Nothing,” Mom said. “It’s just making hammer noises.”
Bill looked at me with scrunched brows and mouthed ‘hammer noises?’
“She thinks it’s Alex Trebek building a new Jeopardy set,” I whispered, following him into our bedroom, “but it’s just the ghosts in the walls.”
“Oh, you mean the ones that only she hears?”
“Yup, them’s the ones.”
Bill paused a moment, then asked, “I thought she only heard them in the middle of the night?”
“Apparently one of them has turned into a morning person. And now it likes to build stuff.”