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The Meat Locker

Christina Canter, OH, USA
July 2002

I was at that magical age of thirteen when I took over my brother's dank yet spacious bedroom. As the youngest child I had been confined to the small room closest to my parent. This move was a rite of passage to me, almost as exciting as leg shaving or other arcane feminine rituals.

My new water bed was set up within a week. My two parakeets found a place in my new room. All was beautiful for about a year.

Late one night I was lying under the covers, a flash light in one hand and a book in the other, I experienced my ghost. My door startled to rattle and shake violently. Almost as if someone or something was trying to escape. Two bangs on the wood finished the ruckus.

Considerably shaken, I looked around the room to see if my dog or cat might have caused the noise. My cat was curled up at my feet. The dog wasn't in the room with me.

The possibility that the racket was done on the outside of the room crossed my mind, so I went exploring. I found our dog (who likes to viscously chew his bum) outside on the patio swing. My mother and father were both fast asleep. That left my brother Eric. Eric is both an idiot and a drunk, who would indeed stoop to this level to scare the wits out of me. Not only was he unable to be found but his car was gone to.

The next morning I checked the local news for any wind of a possible earthquake. Nothing. I was left with no explanation for the previous nights events so I turned to my father. His reply was that the house was settling.

Several months passed very eventfully. The door rattled and banged several times during this period. Once it was witnessed by a friend of the family. That was actually comforting that I was no longer the only one.

I then went on a search for possible supernatural answers. I eventually found a booklet that stated the history of our home and land. The pages stated that my room had formally been a meat locker at some point. This was proven when I found the old linoleum directly under the carpet.

Not long after my father died and my mother and I moved away. My brother Eric and another brother from South Carolina moved in to house sit for us. My brother Chris not only heard the banging door but when he moved into the room the electrical problems started. The light stay on after the switch was turned off. Minor things really. Chris had the room rewired but they the problems kept up anyway.

All this makes me imagine some poor soul trapped in the meat locker, starving/freezing to death. Unable to escape, banging on the door futilely, praying for salvation. After a while, things quieted on their own. Nobody ever found the truth concerning that room. The house remains in the family and is generally a happy place, but every now and then one of us will get that feeling....

Christina Canter, OH, USA
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