Commentaries by Cynthia

Was the farmhouse in which my children and I resided for five years haunted?

I wouldn't say that, as haunted tends to imply supernatural happenings that are malicious in nature. If there was a spirit dwelling in the farmhouse, it was more mischievous and curious.

My children and I were trying to go to sleep. My then eight year-old daughter and I were cuddled up in a bed together in a room across the hallway from my son. He was twelve at the time and not comfortable suddenly being the man of the house following a recent marital separation. What deepened his trepidation at night was the small tree right outside his window, since an outside yard light cast ominous shadows of the braches through the window shade in his room.

"Mama," my son called out in the dark. "Will you do something about this tree? It's scary looking."

My daughter giggled, finding humor in her older brother's fear.

"I'll have the tree cut down soon," I promised my son. "In the meantime, stop staring at it."

He said nothing for a moment, then stated firmly, "I'm sleeping with a ball bat just in case."

"Okay," I called back to him. "Now, go to sleep."

I had just gotten the words out of my mouth when, in the still of the night, the window shade rolled up with a loud snapping sound before crashing to the floor. In the next instant, I heard another object hit the floor, presumably the ball bat, as my son jumped out of his bed.

Sitting up straight, my daughter and I both watched my son's silhouette as he crossed the hallway and leaped into bed with us. All this activity occurred within the span of five seconds.

"What happened?" I asked, sliding over to make room for him.

Terror was in his voice. "I don't know. The shade fell down by itself. I didn't touch it."

Sandwiched between two children, I heard my daughter uncertainly mumble, "Mama?" Apparently she no longer found humor in the situation.

"It's okay," I told them both, trying to soothe their fears. "Window shades do that sometimes." Holding each other, we eventually went to sleep. Then, the next day, I chopped down the small tree and replaced the window shade. I'm glad to say that it never rolled up on its own accord again.

I'm also glad to say that my children were not with me during another night when I heard a loud and frightful crash. I was almost asleep when I heard something that sounded like a tray of silverware being dumped onto the tin roof over my bed. My heart pounding, I pulled the covers over my head and prayed earnestly for my own safety. The next morning, I checked the silverware drawer and found everything intact. This would be an incident that I would not tell my children about for many years. And, no, I still don't know what caused that terrible noise.

It did not help matters to know that an old family cemetery was on the property – clearly within view of the house. The graveyard was overgrown with brush and weeds, and some of the headstones had fallen over from decades of neglect. I ventured up to the site one day and said aloud to the various graves, "I love this farmhouse. I will take care of it, I promise." You may find this silly on my part, but when it comes to dealing with the supernatural, I'd rather be safe than sorry.

After awhile, I think you get used to weird sounds like creaks, howling winds, and thumps or bumps in the stillness. Although my kids and I were becoming more comfortable with the unusual sounds, a friend of my son's adamantly claimed that he was never going to spend another night in our house again. He told my son that he kept hearing footsteps while the rest of us slept. Once he rolled over and saw someone's feet under the closed door of my son's room. The friend said he got up and opened the door, but found no one standing there. True to his word, he never returned for another overnight visit.

The last incident occurred a month before I decided to move into a small house in town. I had dried my hair with a blow-dryer, then went into the kitchen to finish the dishes. A moment later, I heard the blow-dryer start back up. Since I was alone in the house, I knew the kids couldn't have turned it on. So it was either an electrical glitch, or it was something else.

I simply walked into the bathroom and turned off the dryer. Then with a smile to the air, I said, "Cute, really cute."