This happened to me when I was 13 years old, and I doubt I
have ever been more terror-stricken in my entire life.
First of I just want to mention that My Uncle and Auntie
lived in a small town in rural Ontario before moving two
years after this incident. For the sake of protection, I
will keep their location secret.
It was June and school had just ended. As is custom every
year, my parents sent me off by bus to my Auntie Carol's
home. My Uncle Daniel lived there as well, but he was
terribly ill. He had some sort of a mental disease and he
shut himself off from the rest of the world. The only thing
he would do whenever I came to visit him was sit in his
wheelchair, in front of the basement door, chatting with it
as if it were a real person. The door had two dead bolts
which were always tightly locked. The strange thing was
that the door had no handle, nor was there any sign that a
handle had once been there.
When I had first seen my uncle acting so strangely, I was
confused and a bit creeped out but slowly, year after year,
I became accustomed to it. From time to time, he would roll
over to the family room and start moaning and crying. My
Auntie would come rushing over to comfort him and whenever
I tried to ask her about it, she would tell me simply not
to worry.
One humid evening, I was sitting in the family room with my
Auntie and uncle. Since they had no cable, I was forced to
read one of the many books I had brought along with me. Me
and my auntie were sitting on the couch, both lost within
our novels. Danny (as I called my uncle) was dozing
peacefully in his chair beside the window when suddenly he
burst out in uncontrollable sobs, wailing. "Go away Wispy,
go away!" He cried.
My auntie dropped her book, and quickly hurried Danny out
of the room. Confused now more then ever, I couldn't help
but let my mind wander. Wispy? Who, or what, was Wispy?
I never did figure out where my auntie Carol would always
take Danny. But after a few minutes, both of them came into
the room, looking as if nothing had even happened. Wanting
to ask what happened, I meekly spoke up.
"A-auntie," I began. "Who's..." I licked my lips nervously,
a habit I still posess today. "Who's Wispy?"
Carol stroked my long dark chestnut locks, a firm but
gentle expression set upon her worn face. "Your uncle is
very ill, Nicky. Do not ask these silly questions." He
voice was so stern that it shocked me. It quickly
softened. "It's late, you should go and rest."
That night, I had an uneasy sleep. I was plagued with
questions and as soon as I was able to catch some
relaxation, I had nightmares that I couldn't remember, but
they were filled with disturbing images.
The next morning, Carol pushed me out the door after
breakfast to go visit my friend Megan. Me and her talked
for a long time about things like boys and school and such.
Finally, I got bored and we decided to go back to my house.
On the way there, I told her about all the strange things
happening.
"No offense Nicky, but your uncle scares me to death." She
said quietly.
"Why?" I asked, shocked. My uncle was a bit odd, yes, but I
had never thought of him as frightening.
"I always ride my bike by your house, and he's always
there, staring at me with this blank sort of look in his
eyes." She paused, stopping. "Then he stands up and walks
away."
"Wait, wait, stands up?" I cocked a brow. Impossible, I
thought. My uncle is confined to a wheelchair!
"Yes." Megan nodded. "Just stands up. Actually, he kinda
has a weird way of walking. He limps a bit and as he's
walking away he seems to melt into the floor."
I didn't say anything. I was bewildered. Megan never lied
to me but what she said sounded so fictitious that I just
couldn't believe it.
We arrived at my auntie and uncle's house. The front door
was unlocked so we just let ourselves in. "Anyone home?" I
called. No reply. I couldn't help but feel happy that it
was just me and Megan, but then again, there was also a
sense of something that made my skin crawl.
We both sat down on my bed and stared at each other hard. I
don't know what she was looking for in my eyes, but I know
that I was looking for the truth in her.
At last I said, "I wanna show you something." Without
questioning me, Megan followed me as I lead her to the
basement door. I gazed at it with a vacant feeling within
me. It's hard to explain. "My uncle always talks to the
door, like..." I blinked. "Like there's someone on the
other side."
Megan looked like she was about to say something important,
but kept her mouth shut. She reached towards the door, and
I held my breath, expecting to hear a loud bang on it, or
someone's voice yelling at us from the basement. Instead,
Megan's hand lightly touched the raw wooden plank and she
held it there for a moment.
"It feels like there's something cold down there. Like a
freezer or-" Before she could finish her sentence, an
upbeat ragtime tune started playing, muffled by the door.
It skipped over and over. She screamed bloody murder.
Startled, I joined her chorus of shrieks and we both hauled
butt back outside.
After catching my breath from running so hard, I had to
ask. "What... the hell?" I panted.
"I swear to god Nicky, I swear..." She shook her head, and
started crying. Before that moment in time, I have never
seen her cry. Ever.
My Auntie came home to find us both huddled together on the
ground. She sent Megan home without any question and pulled
me inside. I told her what had happened and expected a
verbal beating out of Carol. Instead, she hugged me closely.
"Nicky," She whispered. "Darling, lock your door tonight."
This did little to comfort me. Carol made me a glass of
cool lemonade and instructed me to go and read in the
family room with Danny. Now that I think about it, it was
strange I didn't notice him. But that's not what this story
is about.
Night time came too soon for my liking and I lay,
motionless, in my bed. My head was spinning with what I had
been told today. Then I remembered that Carol had told me
to lock my door. I turned my head to look at my door. Wide
open. The darkness of the hallway sent chills up my spine
and I longed for home.
All of a sudden, I heard footsteps. Slow, heavy footfalls
echoed throughout the house. I assumed that they would
arrive at my room, and I would end up face to face with
some sort of murderer. But it was different. A figure
approached my doorway but passed it. Immediately, I
recognized it as Danny. Frozen, I quivered as I heard the
squeaking of the two dead bolts unlocking. So many thoughts
rushed through my mind.
Somehow, I managed to drag myself out of bed and crept,
silently, towards the basement door. Again, chills ran up
my spine like a shock, causing the hair on the back of my
neck to stand up.I poked my head out of my room. In the murky light of the
moon, I could make out the basement door, standing ajar. I
swallowed hard and ran my tongue around the outline of my
lips. And I could hear the sound of ragtime skipping over
and over and over... I felt like I had been plucked from
reality and flung into a horror film.
Carefully, I placed one foot in front of the other until I
was right in front of the door. Straining to see through
the pitch black cloak of night, I could only note a long,
steep staircase. And then the tall, beefy figure of Uncle
Daniel creeping upstairs, step by step.
I was struck by an invisible lightening rod, unable to move
from fear of Uncle Danny hurting me. All the while, as he
rose up the steps, the music kept skipping, playing that
one bar then repeating. But to my surprise, he passed right
by me, his eyes wide open, and continued to his wheelchair
in the family room.
The music kept going. It was joyful and in no way scary. My
curiosity got the best of me and I ran into the family
room. There was Danny, sound asleep and snoring lightly. I
then dashed into my room and dove into my knapsack,
desperately searching for a flashlight. 'Dammit,' I
thought. 'Why couldn't I have brought one?'
Finally, I gave up. I was creeped out beyond belief, not to
mention dumb-founded. Uncle Danny couldn't walk, and yet I
had just witnessed him making his way up a long, arduous
flight of stairs. And that music? Auntie Carol didn't have
any records of vinal that I knew of. I stopped trying to
think and sat on my bed listening. All I could hear was the
quiet dripping of rain and night birds softly calling.
Everything was tranquil. From the family room, Danny's soft
snores caused me to relax and lie down, eventually drifting
into a dream.
That night, I had the worst dream I could ever imagine. I
was floating in the air in a lying position, stiff as a
board and unable to move. Suddenly a million fingers began
to tickle me, hard, as if it was their life's purpose to
tickle me to death. I screamed for them to stop and called
for Auntie Carol. Instead, a strange head floated towards
me. It was the head of a toddler, probably three or four,
with no hair. The head was disembodied and behind it where
a body should have been traveled a wisp of smoke.
"Help me." I moaned as the torturous fingers kept tickling
me. The head started laughing, a deep, demonic laughter and
I jerked awake. I was staring at my ceiling, straight up,
listening to my own heart beating when I heard some ragged
breaths. I felt a tingle rush through out my body and
slowly turned my head to see the most disturbing creature
conceivable.
It was that girl again. But this time, she had a body. Her
neck was long and fat, making her head tower almost a meter
above her grotesque form. Her fingers had tiny copies of her
head on their tips and they were all laughing in tiny high
pitched voices. She was thinner then thin and just when I
thought that I couldn't have gotten more scared, She opened
her mouth slowly, showing me her long, bloody teeth. If
you've ever seen the Devil's Advocate, you'd know what I
mean. Then she started laughing. Laughing in that deep,
deep voice. I tried to scream but I passed out.
Carol was shaking me hard. I groaned and opened my eyes.
She quickly walked out of the room. I fluttered my eyes for
a moment, trying to get a grip. Sunlight spilled out of my
window and onto my bed. I took a glance at the clock on the
wall and saw it was only 9:00 AM. For a minute I thought it
was all just a horrible nightmare. I was wrong.
I stood up and shook my head to try and rid myself of the
images I had experienced. They were like a bad aftertaste.
Carol walked into my room again slowly, then gathered me up
into her arms, crying.
I began to worry. "Auntie?" I asked her. "What's wrong?"
"I should have shown you this." She pressed her lips
together. "Now I don't know." Without letting me say
anything, she grabbed my wrist and led me to the basement
door. Soundlessly, she unlocked both dead bolts and the door
seemed to ease open on it's own. Inside, on the wall, there
was light switch that I hadn't seen the night before. She
flicked it on and led me down the stairs. As we got closer
and closer to the bottom, the stench of death filled my
nose and I nearly vomited.
At the bottom of the stairs the room wasn't much bigger
then a normal storage space. In the left corner of the room
was a broken down old record player. And when I say broken
down, I mean broken down. Every peice was lying in a pile.
There was no way that it would have been fixed, played, and
then broken again. Then Carol unrolled a carpet that was
wrapped around something. Even now, I can't think about it
without getting nauseous. The carpet was stained with blood
and inside it was the body of a little baby girl, dead,
with her head cut right off the shoulders.
I ran faster then ever before to the washroom and was sick
for hours. I left Auntie Carol's house that same day and
stayed with Megan. Even seven years later, I don't know why
Auntie Carol had that record player in her basement, or why
there was that decapitated baby. I can only guess that she
was Wispy. But I do know that was I saw that night was as
real as me and you, and that I will never forget it.
Submitted From: