THE VISITOR

THE VISITOR

As a child I was haunted by very vivid dreams. Some of these dreams were very pleasant like the night I dreamed that a powerful wind through our old house. The wind was so strong that I felt if I spread my arms I could fly like a bird. In my dream I did just that. As I spread my arms the wind caught me and lifted me up to the high ceiling of our kitchen. Then, like a balloon that has been released, I flew around the kitchen until the wind ended and I light landed back on the floor. It was years before anyone could convince me that I couldn’t fly in a strong wind.

Then there were those dreams that brought me awake and left me shivering in the night or sometimes crying out for my mom. One such dream happened when I was very young and is still vivid in my memory even today at the age of seventy.

We lived in Midvale, Utah when I was growing up. Midvale was divided into two sections by the Union Pacific Railroad that ran north and south. Later it was further divided by I-15 which ran next to the tracks. The west side of the tracks was where the actual town of Midvale could be found. In those days Midvale was a thriving community. On Main Street was Bern’s Super Foods, Brown’ Shoes, The Burk movie theater, J.C. Penney’s, Coronet five and dime, three bars, two barber shops, two restaurants and Vincent Drug. On the corner of Main Street and Center Street was the Midvale Bank. Across Center Street to the south was the offices of Doctor Wright and Doctor Beashuer. They both acted as our family doctors. On the southeast corner was the City Hall with the police station in the basement. When I was out riding my bike I would often stop into City Hall and go to the basement to get a drink of water. The drinking fountain that was in the basement had the coldest, best tasting water I had ever tasted. On the northeast corner was Rexall Drug. There was also clothing/variety store called Spouse-Reitz and a camera shop. The owner of the camera shop used to go the schools in the area and do all of the school pictures.

The streets on the west side of Midvale mostly ran east or west from Main Street. These streets were so narrow that if cars were parked on the side of the road only one car could traverse the road at a time. East off of Main Street were the avenues starting at the south end with First Avenue and continuing north up to Eighth Avenue.

My family lived on Fifth Avenue. My parents first home was a small one level home. It was built in the 1920’s and was on a three-quarter lot. To the west of the house stood some tall box elder trees and past the trees was a large grassy area that was great for games of flies up or football. The house had an old dirt cellar and an ancient furnace that was located in the cellar. My dad hated that old furnace. Quite often a cat or a squirrel would wander into the cellar and get inside the furnace. Then the house would fill with the smell of burning hair and flesh. My dad would have to go down to the cellar and take the cover off of the furnace to remove the unfortunate creature.

Our home was very small especially when you realize that were six of us children and my parents who lived there. We had a large living room and a large kitchen. One bedroom opened off of the kitchen and held four twin beds for my four sisters. Next to their bedroom was a small bathroom. Just past the bathroom was a room that had been built on the back of the house. At one time it was the bedroom for my grandfather until his death. Afterwards it became my older brother’s room and later when I got older I slept there with him. Just off of the living room through an archway was another room that at one time would have been called the parlor. This is where my parents slept. In their room was a large picture window that looked out the front of the house facing the street. Up until about the age of three I slept in my crib right next to this large window. It was a little crowded but we were happy.

At the top of our street lived a family by the name of Pappas. They had two grown sons who raised dogs. These were not ordinary dogs. They raised them and trained them to fight. When I was old enough to go outside and play my sisters would always warn me not to go up by Danny Pappas house because his dogs were mean and they might bite me. I was told this so many times that I had a deadly fear of those dogs.

This is where one of my most frightening dreams comes in. I know I was very young because I was still sleeping in a crib next to the window. One night just after I had fallen asleep this dream woke me up screaming. I had dreamed that one of Danny Pappas dogs had crashed through the window and was trying to get into my crib. The dream was so vivid that I could hear the dog growling and feel it’s hot breath on my face. I woke everybody up and nothing my mother could do would calm me down enough to go back to sleep. It was only after she moved my crib next to her bed and held my hand through the rails that I was finally able to go back to sleep. That was how I slept for many months after this. This dream has stayed with me even now at the age of seventy. I still have a vague memory of waking up and screaming, “Pappas doggy, Pappas doggy”.

In 1961 my parents decided they needed a bigger house even though my older sisters were getting married and moving out. They looked for a home but couldn't find anything in a neighborhood that they liked as much as our little Fifth Avenue area. They decided to build a home on the large grassy area next to the old home. It was a much larger house with three bedrooms on the first floor and a full basement. My one older sister who still lived at home got the smallest of the three bedrooms. My brother and I slept in the middle bedroom and my parents took the master bedroom.

On Friday nights my brother would drag our old portable TV into our room. We would shut the door and right after the news we would watch Nightmare Theater.

Nightmare Theater was a local show that aired classic horror movies. A man named William “Ron” Ross, better known as Fireman Frank for a children’s cartoon show he hosted in the mornings. Ron was actually a talented musician, educator, and versatile performer. He would start the show each Friday by his well known voice calling out Niiiiggghhhtttmmmaaare. That opening sound would send chills up my spine but I loved the old shows they showed. I remember one night we watched “The Screaming Skull” and I wasn’t sure I was going to go to sleep after that. I loved and still do love, the classic Universal Studios monsters. I was in ecstasy when they showed shows like “The Mummy”, “Dracula”, “Frankenstein” or “Creature From the Black Lagoon”. They were always my favorites. The only problem was these movies scared me so bad that I couldn’t go to sleep unless my bedroom light was on. My mom would leave my light on and I would read my book until I fell asleep then she would come and shut it off. My brother Vern had a much later bedtime than I did so it worked out okay.

One of my first actual paranormal experiences happened in that room. I had fallen asleep and my mom had turned off my light. Sometime later something woke me from my sleep and I laid there looking at my door. The lights were still on in the living room and they spread a slight glow into my room. I could hear my mom running her bath and I knew that my dad was probably watching something on TV. Suddenly, I noticed the light coming through my door was getting smaller and smaller. In my sleep drugged mind it took me a minute to realize that my door was closing. All by itself! I lay there watching as the fright spread over my body. At first I couldn’t bring myself to cry out but as the light continued to decrease I finally found my voice and screamed “Mom!”. My dad came running into my room.

“What’s wrong, why did you shut your door?” he asked as he pushed the door open flipped on the light and walked into my room.

I was still struggling to catch my breath but I finally managed to say, “I didn’t shut it. It shut all by itself.”

My dad gave me a look and said, “Your imagination is running away with itself again”.

“Honest Dad, I was just lying here and it started to shut. I was scared. I thought somebody was in my room.”

“Well, there’s no one here. Was the window open? Maybe a gust of wind blew the door shut.” He said as stepped to the window to check it.

“The window wasn’t open Dad.” I said pleadingly.

He checked both the windows in our room and then just shook his head.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” he asked as he hit me with the stare. You all know the stare I mean. All fathers and even some mothers could do the stare.

“No Dad. I’m telling you the truth.” I pleaded. “Can you leave my light on again?”

My Dad wasn’t as easy as my mom. He thought she was coddling me by leaving my light on. He gave me a disgusted look.

I looked back at him and said, “Please”.

Dad sighed deeply.

“I guess it can’t hurt.” He said as he walked out the door.

I lay there scared to death that some ghost or other otherworldly creature was somewhere in my room. I must have fell asleep because the next thing I remember my mom was waking me up for school.

That frightening experience didn’t stay with me too long. It never affected me enough to make me stop watching Nightmare Theater. It was what happened about a year later that made me wonder why I loved those movies so much.

I had never gotten over needing my light on to go to sleep. My mom would check on me and if I was asleep she would turn off the light before she went to bed.

First let me give you a little background.

My older brother Vern was what they called in the fifties and early sixties a hood. He ran with a pretty wild crowd and had been in trouble with the police a few times. Nothing serious. It was mostly because he was associated with the guys who were causing the trouble. He loved working with wood and he had made a wooden ladder that he put up to our window. He removed the screen so he could sneak out in the night and run around with his friends and get back in without mom and dad knowing. I knew that ladder was there and I knew that if Vern wasn’t home I had to make sure that window was not latched because he would probably come sneaking in very late at night. If I had locked the window I would have paid the price.

The window that Vern would use to sneak in and out was right between our two beds. The heads of our beds flanked the window on each side. I was lying there one night. My light was still on because my mom had just peeked in and saw that I was still awake. I had put down the book I was reading and turned on my side facing the window. I got comfortable and was just dozing off when I smelled something awful. It kind of smelled like the dead deer we had found one day when we were fishing up on the Provo river. I didn’t want to wake up so I just snuggled down in my bed a little more and kept my eyes closed. As the smell lingered I finally opened my eyes and froze in fear. A hand was coming through my window. But not just a normal every day hand. This hand appeared as if it had been in the ground for a long time. It was covered with decaying skin. I watched as the hand came closer and closer. I began to move back toward the wall to get away from the hand. It continued relentlessly toward me. Finally, the hand reached my pillow. It grabbed a handful of pillow and pulled it toward the window. As my pillow fell to the floor, the hand dropped my pillow and disappeared out of the window.

I found myself unable to breath. I lay there gasping for air that wouldn’t seem to fill my lungs. I thought that I was going to die of fright. My heart was pounding as if it was going to burst right out of my chest. I finally managed to pull myself upright and staggered out into the living room where my mom and dad were watching the news.

I stopped and almost fell to the floor. My mom looked up and said, “What’s wrong? You’re white as a ghost.”

I was still struggling to breathe and my lungs finally decided to work but my mouth was still not receiving the proper signals from my shocked brain.

“Ah, ah, in my room. Hand. Scared.” I managed to get out of my fear closed mouth.

My dad looked at me and said, “What are you afraid of now?”

That got my brain working and I said tearfully, “Somebody reached in my window and pulled on my pillow.”

I couldn’t bring myself to admit the smell of putrefaction and the appearance of that hand just yet. It still seemed so unreal to me.

“You must have been dreaming.” My mom said. “Nobody can reach your window.”

“Yes they can. Vern has a ladder up there so he can sneak in and out.” I said without thinking about the retribution that Vern would rain down on me when he found out I had snitched.

I saw the storm cloud pass over my dad’s face.

“I told him to take that ladder down and put the screen back on the damn window.” He said as he looked at my mom.

“What are we going to do with that boy?” My mom said glancing at my dad.

My dad just shook his head.

They went back to my room with me and they saw the open window. They saw my pillow on the floor. It wasn’t until my mom stripped my bed to wash my sheets that she saw the stains on my pillow case. She asked me where they came from but I didn’t tell how it happened that night. I made up some story about sneaking some food into my room.

I wasn’t about to let this drop. I knew what I had seen and what I had smelled. The next morning, I went out to the yard. I looked all around at the ground underneath my window but it was all grass and there were no tracks there. The wooden ladder was still in place even though my dad had told Vern again to take it down. I began to examine each rung on the ladder. About the third rung from the ground, I found a piece of cloth caught on a nail. I took it and looked at it closely. It was about two inches square and wasn’t like any cloth I had seen before. It was brown and appeared to be stained with something. I held it to my nose and sniffed. The cloth was saturated with the same smell I had smelled the night before. I was sure this was a piece of cloth from the clothing or shroud that the thing from my window had been wearing. The smell carried me back to that moment when I had seen the hand reaching for me. I suddenly wondered what was at the other end of that hand. Could it really have been a decaying corpse? Or was it just my imagination as my mother and father had said.

I kept that small piece of cloth in a secret place in my room. There was a place in my closet where the floor hadn’t been quite finished. It was far back in the corner and had never been noticed by anyone but me. When I got married and moved away, I forgot to take the cloth with me. After my parents died we sold the house and I don’t know if anyone ever found my hiding place or that piece of cloth. But perhaps that’s for the best. Maybe that thing was still out there, just waiting for it’s chance to come back and reach through that window again.

THE END