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Wayne's Tears

Stacy Theodore Soltys, NJ, USA
September 2001

This story is long and for those of open mind and soul.

It all started in the fall of 1994. My family and I moved from N.J. to the rolling hills of South Western Pa a few miles outside of Pittsburgh. I was 15.

After living in an apartment for a year we decided to look for a house to rent. After much fruitless searching we came upon a nice brick house sitting atop a small hill on a very cliche"dark and windy road" which had a reputation for horrible car accidents that occurred quite frequently.

I remember the vibe I got the first time we stepped foot into the house to inspect it. My mother, who is also open to the supernatural looked at me and I knew right away what she was thinking.

There was a certain damp or dank smell about the place, and there were numerous spiders and webs since the house had not been lived in for a year or so. It was obvious to my Mother and I that something wasn't right but the price of rent was, and we moved in a week later.

Thinking back, the weirdness started very early on. The first day we were in our new home our year old dog Brutus was in the basement alone, which is where my mother and I felt most uncomfortable. I went down to check on him and he had gotten into some things we were to unpack and found a Ouija board. He chewed it to pieces and we laughed and thought nothing of it. That same day my parents got into an awful fight which in our household was not that uncommon.

School was just about to start so my mother decided we needed to take a little mini-vacation to N.J. beforehand to visit friends and relatives.

We left the next day and were there in a few hours. My father stayed home. I was sitting on a friends stoop in the town I grew up in when he came out the door after getting off the phone with my mother. He said he had some bad news for me about a friend. I tensed as he told me what happened. My father had been working out in the yard which had no fence and our dog Brutus ran away. He was hit by a car and killed. My father and mother were too broken up about it to tell me themselves. My father buried him in the yard and when we got home was very upset. That all could seem very normal if what happened over the course of the next year never transpired.

Things were alright for a short while afterward but the fighting between my parents was getting worse daily. Worse than I ever thought possible. Things started disappearing in the house and would reappear in a completely different room. There was always an uneasy feeling when anyone was alone in the house. At that my mother and I decided to do some investigating as to the history of it.

We called the landlord and asked exactly when the house was built and who had owned it previously. He told us in the late 60's and that he got it from a state auction type arrangement and did not know anything about the former owners and such, he stated these things in an evasive manner which made us all the more suspicious.

We went to the township police station and asked about the home. An older officer snapped his head when he heard my mother state where it was. He walked up to us and told us it was being built by a man and his family at first but they never got to move in the house. Just as we were going to ask the next question he told us to drive along a certain road to a field and get out of the car and look to the very far corner of it. He said that's where they lived while they were building the house. Perplexed, my mother and I looked at each other and were again about to ask questions when he interrupted and said "Just go down there and tell me what you think."

Well always up for an adventure we did so. It was a very dark rainy day. We pulled up to the spot we were instructed to. As soon as we did my mother and I both got goose bumps or chills throughout our entire bodies. In the far corner of this clearing was a ramshackle building that had obviously been deserted for years. We stared at it for a few moments, looked at each other and hopped back in the car faster than as if we were robbing a bank. We got home and didn't tell my brother or father about it because they would just laugh and express their skepticism. The feeling we got that day quelled our curiosity for a while.

The days passed and my parents were at each others throats more and more. There was a candle that my parents had ever since marrying the twenty something years ago it was. They never lit it and always displayed it with pride. One night they were fighting so violently that my mother took a knife to the candle and chopped it up and threw it out the door. Seeing this, I was obviously upset and suggested that she see a Psychic and to call the officer that told us about the shack.

She did both, first was the Psychic. The woman told my mother there were many things amiss in the house and that she could literally see a black evil cloud following her. She said that there was a body buried in a specific corner of our basement and the aura of death permeated the home.

At that we called the police and asked for the officer but he refused to tell us any more.

My mother was the bartender at a small pub at the end of our road which intersected with the road the officer told us to check. She began asking questions of her patrons and came to find out some pretty juicy information. An older man told her the story of Wayne.

The man was in the process of building a home for his wife and two children. They were of meager finance and used to lived in the shack right up the road while they were building the home. I should say while Wayne was building the home. Wayne came to find that his wife was not keeping to her wedding vows and it destroyed him. She took the children and left him. Shortly thereafter he ended his life by hanging himself on the beams of the not yet finished basement at the bottom of the stairs with electrical wire. It all started to add up after that. The fighting between my parents, the tension, the general bad vibes that emanated. In my opinion Wayne was living out his anger through my father and directing it toward my mother.

There were other instances. One night my father was working on a leak in the garage which was just a wall from the basement stairs. My mother went down and an argument started between them. My father in his haste was walking to grab a tool from a counter and he nudged past my mother as they were arguing and it sent her flying off of her feet and down against the garage door. After it all blew over my father was telling me that he had barely touched her and my mother said it felt like she got thrown. Thrown by a force greater than my father.

There are more happenings but I'll close it out now. After we found out the truth we talked to him when things would happen and were conscious of his presence a few times. Things calmed down tremendously and we moved out soon thereafter.

Stacy Theodore Soltys, NJ, USA
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