The Sallie House Haunting: A True Story (17 page)

She reported that when she unpacked her suitcase, she found a lid in it and had since been trying to figure out why and how it got there. “I packed those suitcases myself and I know I didn’t put it in there!”

We talked about how unlikely it was that either of the children or any of the adults would have gotten into the suitcases after her final pack. The situation left us extremely bewildered.

Before hanging up, she mentioned the film she’d just sent off to be developed and promised that she would send me copies. About a week later, I got the pictures. They had been taken in the nursery during the last conversation I‘d had with Sallie. As we had hoped, something odd did seem to show up in them.

In every photo, a small arc of light had shown up along the baseboard and under the window in Sallie’s corner. At first, I thought it was a refraction of light or a reflection of the flash off the glass money jar that sat near me on the floor. Then I realized that in more than one of the photos, I had been sitting between the camera flash and this jar, meaning that the flash could not have generated an arc of light. Another interesting thing was that no matter where Karen had been positioned when she took the pictures, the arc of light showed up in the same exact place each time: the bottom of the north windowsill.

A co-worker stopped by for a visit several days later, on November 19. He and Tony kicked back to relax in front of the TV. Ray was on the floor and Tony sat at the far end of the couch. At some point, Tony noticed the wooden balls on the ceiling fan swinging and silently pointed it out to Ray. Our spirit wanted to be noticed. Through experience, we knew that when this didn’t happen, the activity picked up.

Already aware of this information, Ray announced in an abnormally loud voice that he was just going lay his head down and take a short nap. He closed his eyes to simulate falling asleep and immediately something went whizzing by, close and over his head. It had been so close and fast, he heard it and immediately sat up.

Tony had seen what happened, but it happened so fast that he only caught it out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t quite sure what had flown through the air and hit the wall across the room. They both inspected the dent in the wall and found a tiny ceramic vase lying on the floor below it. The vase had been sitting on one of the end tables. Ray realized that Tony couldn’t have been responsible for throwing it over his head from where it had been sitting.

Tony was excited when I got home later that day and the conversation with him was interesting. Without me there to see the activity or pick up any emotions from Sallie’s perspective, Tony was forced to come up with his own theory.

“I think she was upset because we weren’t paying attention to her,” he said. “We didn’t make a fuss over the balls on the ceiling fan when I noticed them. I think she got mad because we ignored her and threw the vase in a tantrum.”

I agreed and was secretly proud of his thoughts and approach.

Several days later, Ray caught up with Tony and asked if he thought our ghost would be able to follow him home. It was a curious question, but we had no answer. Ray then went on to describe several nights of strange activity. One night, an item of clothing moved from one side of Ray’s bedroom to the other. The next night, a twenty-four-inch box fan had done the same thing.

The strangest thing, however, was what he described as a large, sopping wet puddle in the middle of his dining room floor. He was unable to find any reason for it. It was not close to an open window, he did not have any indoor animals that might have had an accident in the middle of the night, and there was no visible sign on the ceiling that it had sprung a leak. In fact, it had not rained for almost two weeks.

thirteen

December 1993

After Sallie’s display with the vase, Tony and I had four days without any ghostly activity. We wondered if Sallie had used an excessive amount of energy in throwing the vase. I had heard that spirits can lie dormant while gathering energy to unleash a powerful blow when needed.

Four days turned into several weeks and the longest bout of inactivity we had yet seen. Was she afraid of getting into trouble, or was it the calm before the storm? Was she upset or angry with us for something we were unaware of? Was she gathering strength for retaliation? Not knowing made the lack of activity worse than the activity itself.

This quiet period continued into the holiday season. We were planning a Christmas party for December 18. We were anticipating more than forty-five guests and as the days passed, I became very anxious. I would rather have Sallie act up before the party than during it, because there would be many strangers in attendance. The paranormal situations we had encountered to date would have been difficult to explain to them.

The house remained quiet, however, and the day finally arrived for the traditional Christmas party we had planned: popcorn balls and brown-paper-wrapped gifts exchanged with loved ones, maintaining a sense of family togetherness and creating memories to last.

The night before the party, we blew up hundreds of sixteen-inch red and white balloons. We filled sixty of them with helium and left them to float about the ceiling of the first floor. At some point prior to the arrival of our guests, we were alarmed to hear a series of loud and intrusive thuds. The sound sent my heart racing up to into the back of my throat. I wondered what Sallie was doing.

Terrified about what I might find, I ran from the kitchen and into the dining room where the noise seemed to have originated. As I rounded the corner I realized the ruckus had come from several balloons fighting for freedom from the blades of the ceiling fan. Although our hearts still raced, we laughed at how quickly we’d assumed it was activity from Sallie.

As our guests arrived, we took their coats to the master bedroom and allowed people to mingle, and indulging in conversation, laughter, drink and food. The children were shown to the back bedroom upstairs, which I had equipped with a television, VCR, several holiday movies, and craft supplies to keep them entertained.

We had planned for a relative to make an appearance as Santa. He was running late, and Taylor drifted to sleep before his arrival. Shortly after 8:00, jingle bells were rung outside the children’s playroom on the second floor and thumps on the roof simulated reindeer hooves. As the children hurried downstairs to meet him, Santa grabbed the sack full of gifts on the front porch and came in the front door.

He made it around the room with a “Ho, ho, ho, and a Merry Christmas” before sitting down in the rocking chair. It wasn’t long before each child had sat on Santa’s lap, posed for a picture, and collected a gift bag. I was enjoying the smiles and squeals of the little ones, but as I watched, I was saddened because Taylor had missed it. I felt a strangely compelling twinge of unhappiness and even envy as I thought of Sallie. I had not prepared a gift bag for her, and it seemed I could feel the sorrow of being left out. The sadness was overwhelming.

For the rest of the evening, my thoughts wandered over ways that I could have incorporated Sallie without making the rest of the family feel uncomfortable. In the end, I understood that there had been no way. Not having a gift for her, however, was like denying her very existence, and I wondered if this had upset her.

Santa left and the kids retreated to their party room while the adults began their gift exchange. It was during this time that my father-in-law saw the bean bag teddy bear move.

We ruled out alcohol as an influence because, with his diabetic medications, my father-in-law had stopped drinking years ago. In fact, he had not thought anything of the experience because he was sure a draft from the ceiling fan caused the movement. It wasn’t until my mother-in-law mentioned it to us after the party that we realized something had happened.

As it got late, the guests began to leave. Tony retrieved the last of the coats from our bedroom while his brother and niece waited near the bottom of the stairs. Tony had almost reached the top landing when the smoke alarm above his head abruptly began shrieking.

Tony caught sight of his brother at the bottom of the stairs looking up, wide-eyed, and pointing to a handmade mop doll sitting on the fifth step up; it had burst into flames. Tony knew that the doll had not been on fire as he passed it. In the time it took him to reach the top of the staircase, enough smoke had collected at the top of the stairs to set off the alarm.

Tony’s rushed back down the stairs, snatched up the doll, and ran back upstairs with it. He did this to avoid the remaining guests and the awkward questions that would follow. As he ran, the flame grew larger, and small burning pieces of the doll began to drop off onto the carpet. Trying to keep the flaming doll from burning his arm or setting his shirt on fire, he stomped out the embers falling to the floor as he raced up the stairs. Tony scolded Sallie under his breath, so those who had gathered at the bottom of the stairs couldn’t hear him.

He returned his attention to the flaming doll in his hands. The bathroom sink was closest and when he got there, he was also able to see his own injuries; both of his forearms were burned. Not wanting to draw further attention or concern, he didn’t speak of it until later.

One of the last people to leave was Aunt Louise, and as we hugged and said our good-byes, she said something surprising. “Sallie probably felt left out because she didn’t get anything from Santa.”

I could not believe my ears—someone else had said what I had been thinking all night! The next thing I knew, she had offered to bring Santa back so Taylor would have the experience, we would have the photos, and Sallie would have the opportunity for a gift from Santa. It was a wonderful offer and I thanked her for her understanding.

When everyone was gone, I called out to Sallie and demanded her presence. I explained that what she did was very bad and that the fire had caused damage. I explained how the fire had almost gotten out of hand, and the house could have burned to the ground. I told her that what she did scared us as well as everyone else. I told her she was a bad little girl. “You have got to stop this. NO MORE FIRES,” I said, and repeated it several times.

Then, feeling horribly saddened by her exclusion in the gift giving, I continued in a slightly more understanding tone of voice. “Santa didn’t know you were here, honey, and that’s why he didn’t have anything for you.”

After the scolding, Tony and I sat on the couch revisiting every detail of the experience. After much deliberation, we knew we had to put a stop to the uncontrolled fires and find a better way for her to communicate.

The next day I was in the nursery and noticed something written in green crayon on Sallie’s clipboard of papers. Not quite recognizing what it said, I took it to Tony. He could clearly see the letters “G” and “O.” Sallie had written to us just as I had suggested she do when she was upset or had something to say. Had I not seen it in time? Is that why she lit the fire?

Throughout the day, I thought about how to handle the fires. I figured that no matter what we threatened her with, the fires would not stop if it was the easiest form of communication she had available to her. I thought that if we couldn’t stop the fires, perhaps we could make them a little safer.

I called out to Sallie. “I have an idea and I’d like to talk to you about it. I think you will like it, too. See this fire?” I pointed to the oil lamp I’d already lit several minutes earlier. “I know we said no more fires, but now I am saying that you can put one in here and you won’t get in trouble.”

Two days after the Christmas party and early in the day on Sunday, December 20, I noticed the musical clown Taylor got as a gift from Tony’s parents was playing music as it sat untouched by human hands. No one except the three of us had been in the house all day. I couldn’t help but be pleased that Sallie was back to her usual self, and enjoyed her playful antics throughout the house that day.

We expected Santa late in the afternoon and, concerned that Santa’s overpowering presence might scare Taylor, we sat in the rocking chair at the far end of the living room. Next to the chair was an end table with a fish tank, a small figurine, a book, and the oil lamp I had given Sallie permission to use.

Santa arrived about 7:30 p.m., ringing a sleigh bell to signal his entrance. “Taylor, look who’s here. It’s Santa Claus. Hi, Santa Claus.” Santa paused at the front door, not wanting to scare the baby, and as he slowly advanced, I stood up and took a few steps toward him. Tony had been taking pictures of the baby and was already in front of us.

A moment later, Aunt Louise became wide-eyed with surprise and fear. Before I could ask what was wrong, she hollered, “There’s smoke, there’s smoke! My God, Debbie! There’s black smoke behind you!” Fear struck at my heart. I didn’t immediately think of Sallie’s oil lamp until I turned and saw the thick black smoke billowing out from the top of the lamp.

The wick was engulfed in a brilliant bright yellow flame. It was Sallie’s way to scream “I’m here, I’m here! See me, Santa, I’m here.” I felt a big smile sprawl over my face as my heart filled with delight. Apparently Sallie did understand how to be noticed without the dangers of open and uncontrolled fires.

I told Aunt Louise about the arrangement with Sallie and the lamp. Her look of worry and concern quickly diminished. This allowed Santa’s jolly nature to return. “Well hi, Sallie. How are you? Yes, I know you’re here.” As she talked to Sallie, I walked over to the lamp and said warmly, “That’s great that you put a fire in the lamp to let us know you’re here. I am so happy and proud of you.”

We took a few pictures of Taylor on Santa’s lap and Santa even invited Sallie to join him. It was almost comical seeing Santa’s arm around Taylor on one knee, and his other arm stretched out as if he was holding someone on the other, empty knee. We were excited to get the photos developed, and hoped to catch a glimpse of Sallie, but we were disappointed. Not only was there no sign of Sallie, but the photos were dark and indistinct. Had her presence in the photos cause them to be so dark? We had not previously or since had any problems with that camera.

Christmas Eve was a few days later. Expected at Mom and Dad’s house at 9:00 a.m. the next morning, we decided to open gifts with Taylor on Christmas Eve. Our tree was so large that we had to move the table over to open gifts. By 8:00 p.m., there were toys and wrappings all over the dining room and Taylor was content. With camera in hand, Tony suggested I help Sallie open her gifts.

I was certainly caught off-guard by this suggestion, because I knew how difficult it was for him to acknowledge Sallie’s presence. I had bought her a few inexpensive things: a small stuffed animal, a coloring book, and a little white purse. In addition, I had made a wooden cradle for the baby doll we had given her several months earlier.

“Hey, Sallie, come on over here. We’ll open your gifts, okay?’ I waited a second and then peeked under the wrapping, saying things like, “I wonder what it is? It sure is funny shaped, isn’t it?’ I really felt foolish making a big deal about the gift, seemingly sitting there all by myself with Tony surely judging me from across the room, but I continued. I soon had the wrapping off and invited Sallie to have her picture taken with her new cradle. We had no sign though, that she was even in the room.

I dropped the film off for developing on the 26th and I looked at the photos as I stood in line to pay for them. Not only had Sallie been with us Christmas Eve, but some other entity or energy had been present. In three of the photos there were two distinctly different anomalies on either side of me; one was a grayish mass, the other a cloudy-looking blur of lights. These visuals certainly seemed to confirm what Tony had known for a while; there was more than one spirit in our house.