In the early eighties my family, husband and youngest son (our oldest daughter was away at college and other son was in the military) moved into a rented house on a property that overlooked Long Island Sound.
The main house, a beautiful old Victorian, sat on the bluff above the beach with a stairway that wound down to the sands.
Our place was closer to the road with a common driveway. The owners of the property were NY City people who occasionally weekended at the big house. There was a winding drive, sheltered by huge pine trees that whispered in the land/sea breezes.
Our home was a beautiful country place with a fireplace and high, lofty, beamed ceiling.
From the very start there were always strange noises.....hollow sounding footsteps....moans....and the calling of a young man's voice.....the words were clear but we couldn't quite identify them...It was if he were calling a name, Seuse or something like that....searching for something. There were stormy nights when my husband was working late for the power company, when my son and I would sleep in the living room and listen to the wind through the pines, waves on the beach below and the anguished calls of the young man.
I found out later from someone who had long lived in this area that the house was formerly a polo pony stable for the wealthy residents of the main house.
We moved from there and several years later I was relating the story to a new friend and he told me that the word Seuse (spelling?) was the Jewish word for Horse! That just confirmed something I wish it hadn't!
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