The Sallie House Haunting: A True Story (14 page)

Sallie’s Warning: September 22, 1993

I had never given much thought to a spirit interacting in a way that would show that they cared about what happened in the human world they watched from the other side. Amazingly enough, Sallie was able to reach out of the darkness to give us firsthand experience, and it about broke my heart.

On this particular morning, I dragged myself out of bed and down to the kitchen, switched a load of laundry from the washer into the dryer, and went to take a shower. About thirty minutes later, I opened the dryer and pulled out what I needed. Running late as usual, I had very little time to properly deal with what remained. I left some of the clothes in the basket in front of the dryer and the rest inside. I went back upstairs, finished getting ready for work, then headed off, leaving Tony and the baby asleep upstairs.

When Tony got up that afternoon, he got a cup of coffee and something to eat and soon realized that most of the clothes in and around the dryer were still damp, so he pushed them all back into the dryer, closed the door and set it to dry. He immediately heard a loud thump thump, thump, thump thump, thump, but ignored it, thinking somewhere in the load was a pair of tennis shoes.

He played a little with the baby and then decided to tidy up the house. He turned on the stereo in the living room and headed to the front closet for the vacuum. He’d only taken a few steps before the music from the stereo abruptly stopped. He went back to find it had been turned off, and turned it back on. A few steps toward the closet and the music stopped again. Having gone through this many times before he resolved to just leave it off rather than play the ON-OFF game with an ornery little spirit.

Having retrieved the vacuum, he plugged it in and turned it on. It wasn’t but a second later and it turned off. He turned it back on and he could make one long sweep forward, it was again turned off. He’d become quite aggravated at this point at what he thought was Sallie being extremely mischievous. He told me later that he must have turned it back on at least six times before getting so mad he yelled out loud, “God damn it, Sallie! Knock it off, already!” At one point he had even watched the toggle switch flip back to the off position of its own accord. Eventually, he was able to finish the downstairs without any further interference. The rest of the afternoon was quiet and uneventful.

At the end of my workday, I came home and together with the baby in the walker we were all in the kitchen while Tony started cooking dinner. He mentioned his experience with the vacuum earlier that day and how noisy the tennis shoes in the last load had been while they dried that afternoon. His comment reminded me that there was laundry to fold and another load to put in, so I decided to switch laundry loads while he was busy with dinner preparations.

Reflecting on his comment, I could not remember having a pair of shoes in the dryer that morning. I opened the dryer and began to pull things out to fold them. I immediately began noticing strange brown spots on everything and began setting the items aside; the whole time trying to process in my head what could have possibly caused all the spots on our clothes. They certainly were on anything I had pulled out earlier that morning. In fact, some of the spotted things I was pulling out were things I had come across while searching for my shirt earlier that day, so I knew that whatever got all over the clothes, did so after I had been through the clothes that morning.

I wondered if something had been left in one of the pockets, or if some foreign object such as a pen had been in the dryer and the heat caused it to explode. The more I thought about it, the more it just didn’t make sense. The spots were a dark reddish-brown, not blue or black which would suggest ink. I couldn’t help but think that it looked a lot like dried blood, but I couldn’t imagine how so much blood could have gotten in the dryer. I shared all these thoughts with Tony as he continued with dinner.

As I leaned slightly forward toward the opening to get another handful of clothes, I noticed that the piece of clothing I was retrieving was splattered with brown spots. I immediately felt light headed and that I was about to faint. Staring ahead of me, dreading coming face-to-face with what I knew I would find if I went any further, I robotically stepped backwards and began to scream. I don’t remember saying a word, I just screamed, “No, no, no!” Then I screamed again. I knew what had happened, and then suddenly Tony knew.

One of my cats had apparently crawled into the dryer to cuddle and sleep among the warm clothes. Tony, not realizing this, had simply thrown the damp clothes back into the dryer on top of her, shut the door and set it for the usual ninety-minute cycle.

Tony tried to soothe me and quiet my screaming. He knew poor Taylor was terrified at hearing me. He was able to calm me down enough to suggest I take the baby over to my in-laws’ while he cleaned up the mess. Honestly, I don’t know how I managed to drive there, but I did.

Later that night, I returned home to find that Tony had put my cat in a large tin container amongst her toys and laid it on a soft bed of pillow stuffing and silk material. I knew he felt responsible for what had happened, because he was the one who closed the door, put it on a 90-minute cycle and ignored the insistent activity that seemingly tried to warn him that something was very, very wrong.

I tried not to make him feel worse in telling him of my conclusions about the whole incident—instead I tried to show him that Sallie was actually trying to be helpful. She was trying to get his attention, trying to warn him. “I’m sure she would do something similar if Taylor were ever in danger, so next time, give some thought to why she might be doing something so adamantly.” He agreed.

I then turned my attention to Sallie and called her into the room. I wanted to let her know that we understood that she had been warning Tony about the cat in the dryer. I told her that I knew she felt badly about it, but it was not her fault.

“It was an accident, honey; we all feel bad about it. Daddy didn’t mean to hurt the cat. He simply didn’t know she was in the dryer.”

While lying in bed that same night, I wondered why Sallie didn’t just turn off the dryer. Did it have something to do with the higher electrical current? Was that something she was not able to handle? Was low-level electricity the only thing that she could manipulate? Or were direct life-and-death interventions against the rules for a spirit? I never did ask her about it; I guess I didn’t want her to feel guilty or think it was her fault that the cat died.

Several days passed, then a week or more without an inkling of activity. I wondered why. Was she resting, gathering, or regenerating her energy? And if that was the case, how and where did she do that? Was she, perhaps, sulking and mourning the loss of the cat? There was always the possibility that she had simply moved on and was no longer interested in our home and family.

I secretly hoped that day would never come. I enjoyed the interaction and hoped for meaningful forms of communication to be established between us. I wanted to learn so much, and I just knew this little spirit would give me the opportunity to do so.

eleven

October 1993

Sallie’s behavior was similar to other kids her age. Now that we have three of our own, I see how they clamor for acceptance and attention, especially when you are on the phone or attending to something else. They will do anything to get your attention and it doesn’t matter if it is good or bad.

Although there were times when Tony did notice Sallie’s activity, he often chose not to acknowledge it or respond to her. She tried desperately to get his attention, and some days she was more rambunctious than others. October 1st was one of those days and she just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Throughout the day, it seemed she delighted in turning the TV or stereo back on after he had turned it off, or turning it off after he’d turned it on. She did the same thing with other electrical and kitchen appliances he tried to use that afternoon. Try as he might to ignore her activity and continue his daily routines, she took every opportunity to thwart his efforts. This playfulness continued well into the evening.

About 9:00 that night, I had gone upstairs to get ready for bed while Tony took his dirty glass to the kitchen sink. Before coming up to bed, as he did every night, he briefly stopped in front of the TV to hit the off switch. He had just gotten to the bottom of the stairs when he heard the familiar sound of the TV turning on. When this had happened before, we would only have taken a few steps before it came back on. This night, she let him get much farther.

The second time it happened, he’d taken several steps up the stairs and the third time he had gotten about halfway before the TV came back on. The fourth time, he hit the button and raced up the stairs as fast as possible. Although he’d been through the On-Off game with her many times before, the thought of a ghost hanging out close to him and playing with him was always unnerving.

As if Sallie was making up for lost time and days of inactivity, her antics steadily continued. By the time Tony left for work the next night, we had noticed several instances of activity during the course of the day. The motor on the microwave had been running, with its light on and the timer counting down, when no one was using it. We knew that running the unit without something inside could ruin it, so I would run over and open the door to stop the process and remind Sallie not to play with the microwave.

Sometimes I didn’t catch it in time and I would hear the familiar beep signifying that it had just completed a programmed cycle. It became apparent that Sallie was working at manipulating energy and she had found something fun to play with. I felt a real sadness for her. Having to interact with electrical appliances for fun or attention seemed pitiful to me and I hesitated to scold her. I didn’t want to take away what may have been her only means of fun, but I also feared that this continued activity might ruin the microwave, or worse yet, cause an electrical problem or even a fire. I decided that something had to be done.

I always felt awkward talking to her in front of Tony, so I waited until after he went to work. I had learned from experience that Sallie did try to accommodate the guidelines we laid out, so I set out to explain my concerns. I showed her that the power level on the microwave could be set to zero. “Setting the level to zero will be safer and the timer you like to play with will still run.” I hoped she understood and had the ability to comply. Quickly enough, I got my answer. Over the next couple of days, I heard the unit beep often, and frequently I would run into the kitchen to notice that the timer had been counting down but no interior light was on. No light, no motor.

It truly warmed my heart to know that such real communication could be attained with a spirit. Once again, she had succeeded in following my rules. I made a point of praising her and told her how smart she was to have learned it so quickly. I hoped that doing so would help deepen our relationship.

I had no idea how this interaction and understanding was possible. Sallie was, in my understanding, on the other side—dead. Although I had heard of rapping and tapping to communicate with a ghost, I had not heard or read much on any detailed communication. I was delighted that I was able to experience it first hand and wondered how long it might continue. I also felt that I had a distorted sense of what a ghost actually was. Over the course of several months, I had experimented with Sallie to find out what ghosts might be capable of. In those months she showed me so much more than I could have imagined.

Ghosts and spirits, in my mind, are very different things. A ghost is non-interactive and is often represented by residual haunting. It is simply a repetitive energy that plays over and over like a film; usually at a specific time and place. It’s a mere snapshot in time—a memory. Spirit energy on the other hand, seems to show some level of the spirit, or soul, it represents: the feelings, thoughts, and personality of someone once living.

This would lead one to believe that in some form, our soul energy does move on after death. A spirit has some degree of consciousness, which explains why they can interact, respond, and communicate. I wondered if ghosts were aware of their surroundings and if they were aware of how their actions affected the world of the living. I wondered if a ghost could have a true consciousness. My level of excitement rose with each new experience. It seemed I was getting some kind of answers to these questions.

On October 4th, Tony’s mom and dad came for dinner. The night before they came, I told with Sallie they were coming and reminded her to behave. We were having coffee about 7:30 p.m. when Taylor woke from his nap. Tony had taken him to the end of the couch to change him. As he finished, his mother, anxious to be the first one to hold him, went over to pick him up. She had only taken a few steps away when suddenly the basket and oil lamp were flung from the top of the end table and onto the couch next to Tony.

Tony and I looked at each other, both of us wide-eyed. Although his mom had her back turned toward Tony and the couch as she walked away, she did hear the commotion and quickly turned to find the disheveled array of items lying on the cushions. I had to stop myself from laughing—I wondered if either of them really understood the situation.

I could just feel a gnawing anger and jealously inside that was not my own. I knew Sallie was upset. Had Sallie been sitting right next to Taylor when my mother-in-law plucked him from her? I hollered at Sallie, “Now Sallie, you quit that!”

I spoke to Sallie after everyone had gone. I told her that although it was all right not to like Taylor’s grandma, she had to stop doing bad things when grandma was around. Wanting to end on a positive note, I told her, “I still love you, even though sometimes you do bad things.”

For several days afterward, we peacefully coexisted. Feeling that Sallie had been doing a good job at following the rules we set, I would occasionally praise her for doing so. It still felt very awkward talking to someone I couldn’t see.

Working the third shift, Tony often found himself not getting enough sleep. Generally, he would fall asleep on the couch in the early evening after we had put Taylor to bed. About 10:00 p.m. on October 10th, we were lying on the couch, talking about things in general. We were soon on the subject of Sallie, and he told me that for about a week he had often felt the sensation someone was gently biting on his toes.

I snickered, thinking he was making it up, but he was serious and I listened because it was the first time
he
had brought Sallie up in conversation and verbally acknowledged her interactions with him. Usually he would only make eye contact and gestures to point out the activity he noticed. He went on to tell me he had felt the biting in bed, while watching TV, and at the dinner table. He was positive it was Sallie. She had apparently found another way to seek his attention and a reaction, only she wasn’t getting it from him directly.

A few minutes later, I headed upstairs to take a shower and couldn’t help thinking it was an awfully cute way for Sallie to play with him. As I reached the top I heard Tony loudly yell, “Ow! Damn it!” I didn’t hear anything else, so I entered the bathroom and shut the door. Tony must have been listening for the shower to stop because when I came out, twenty minutes later, he was standing in the hall with a strange look of mixed surprise, anger and perplexity.

Before I had a chance to ask what the problem was, he unbuttoned his jeans and dropped them to the floor. I started to laugh. Hearing but ignoring my apparent insensitivity, he turned slightly sideways, kept his focus on my face for my reaction, and pointed out an area on the outer part of his upper thigh. “She bit me!” he said in exasperation.

I was still grinning when he glared at me and growled, “It’s not funny! Say something to her!” Seeing how serious he was, I regained as much composure as I could and asked, “What do you want me to say to her, ‘Bad Sallie, don’t bite Daddy?’” I then took a closer look at his leg, “What did you do to piss her off?” He gave me another dirty look but said nothing.

I expected to find marks created to look like teeth. After all, Tony had not been happy with my behavior concerning her presence in our house and wanted her gone. If he could prove to me that she was dangerous it would give me a reason to get rid of her. However, the marks looked genuine.

The area was beet-red. In the center was a distinct set of small teeth marks imprinted on his upper thigh. The reddened area suggested that the trauma had happened very recently. I tried to figure out how the marks got there. Taylor had been sleeping and had no teeth. The bite was not in a place that Tony would have been able to reach himself. Besides, the configuration was unmistakably small and child-sized.

“Perhaps you should acknowledge her once in a while when the balls of the ceiling light start to swing. You know she wants to be accepted by you and you never want to admit that she’s there.”

“It’s hard, Deb. It just isn’t right!”

Still finding humor in the situation, but seeing his anguish, I enlisted my self-control and firmly told Sallie that what she did wasn’t nice and although it was okay to play with Daddy, she had played too rough and hurt him. With that said, Tony pulled up his pants and walked away looking dejected and frustrated. Although I had given him my honest thoughts, he hadn’t wanted to hear what I had to say.

The next day, the teeth marks had disappeared, but a large bruise the size of a baseball was clearly visible. A few days after that, Tony finally came to see the humor in that night and laughed with me as we recalled it. We also talked about his seeing dark shadows throughout the house and out of the corner of his eye. He saw them on light fixtures, within the reflective surface of shiny objects around the house, and on the walls or ceiling. I had not seen them, but over the course of the next few weeks, I began looking for them.

On the 17th, I was talking to my sister in New York. Since her visit, Karen had called at least once a week to check on us and always asked what Sallie was up to. In a letter to me weeks earlier, she had enclosed a package of cherry Kool-aid and a crayon drawing that her own little girl had done for Sallie. I had put them on top of Sallie’s box in the nursery and told her who they were from.

During that phone conversation, Karen asked if Sallie had liked the Kool-aid she sent the week prior and she wanted me to relay the message that, “Aunt Karen says ‘hi’—remember, she sent you the crayon drawing that her little girl drew for you and the Kool-aid?” A few moments later, as if in response to the question, a doll on the shelf behind the stereo fell to the floor. There were no cats in the room and the doll was not sitting anywhere near the edge of the shelf. I can’t be sure it was directly related, but it was one of the few times I ever saw something happen with my own eyes.