LOOKING FOR SOMETHING
(Rebecca)
When I was 12, my mother remarried and we moved into her new husband's house in New Hampshire. I often felt strange in this house, like something was watching me. It was a small ranch house, much similar to the one we had lived in in Maine. The basement was finished on one half with a pool table, carpeting, and couch and chairs. Sometimes the light to this room would turn itself on and off, and a lamp in my parents' bedroom also would turn on and off when nobody was around. This made me unsettled, but whenever I brought it up I was given the explanation that it was just power surges; my step dad used to say half-jokingly that it was because the guys at the power plant were changing shifts. I never quite bought that. Then one morning, about 9am, I was awakened by a noise. Everyone was sleeping in because it was a weekend, so I was the only one awake. To the right of my bed, along the same wall as my headboard, was a bookcase. On the shelves were several books, neatly lined, but on one shelf there was a cluttery place where I had dumped my school books, with some notebooks and loose papers in between, in a big pile on the shelf. The noise that woke me up was of some of the papers, that were sticking out from the books, being rustled and tugged at, like someone was trying to grab them but without picking anything up. I was terrified, but managed to turn my head and look, and the papers were indeed moving as if being wiggled and pulled by invisible hands. My dog Meaghan was again sleeping next to my bed as she always did, and she was growling and yipping with her hair bristled up. There was no breeze, and this had never happened before and never since. This stopped after a few minutes, but I just lay there terrified until I heard my parents getting up. When I mentioned this to them, they didn't believe me, but I know what I heard and saw, and I know that judging by my dog's reaction, I was not alone!




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