GET OUT of THIS HOUSE!

It was a dream come true. At age 55, things couldn't be going better. I was in good health, was a successful graphic designer, and had a beautiful gem of a wife. The kids were in college, and I had achieved a life-long objective, to own a large colonial home in the country, a home with tall columns at the entrance, a circular stairway leading to the upper living area, and a large attic in which to build a new studio. I had had to talk Ann into purchasing this house; she would have preferred city living.

At first, the house made for a somewhat uncomfortable life. It was dank in the basement, the furnace needed to be replaced, the kitchen had to be modernized, etc. Ann and I were lining up workers to come and take care of these projects at an early date. I was especially thrilled about turning the attic into an electronic marvel. In the meantime, I was using one of the spare bedrooms as my work area.

My first inkling of trouble began with some photos I took. The pictures showed what I had wanted to, but also some things I hadn't. There were little circles scattered here and there on all the photographs I had taken. These spoiled the illustrations, of course, and I needed to know what had caused them. There were small circles, and large, some in bright hues of color, some faint. I thought the circles might be caused by light reflections but I was able to rule out this idea with some tests. Then, I remembered my friend, Lillian, telling me about orbs, another word she had used for circles. I phoned and asked whether she thought paranormal orbs were the source of my problem.

What she said strained my credulity. (I tend to be skeptical of anything I don't understand.) She said that orbs could be manifestations of creatures in the spirit world. She added that they might be life forms in other realms of existence, possibly those who had passed on. Or, they might be guardian angels. They could even be demons. She advised me to take pictures in a totally dark area; for example, the attic, to determine whether orbs would show up in the photos. This might be informative, she thought. "It could be that some of the former inhabitants are unhappy with your plans to modernize the house," she added. After the call, I decided to take her suggestion about the photos.

That evening, I pulled down the stairway that led to the attic and, lugging my digital camera, carefully made my way up the rickety steps. It was murky in the attic but I could see a few things from the lights below. I called down to Ann to turn off all the lights in the house and she did. Now, there was total blackness in front of my eyes. I took a few steps forward to place some distance between myself and the opening in the floor.

Turning in various directions, I took photos without using flash. I took the photos even though I had no idea what I was photographing. After having taken about a dozen exposures, I was ready to venture going back down the fragile steps. Then, it happened. Softly, silently, emanating from a nearby distance, a delicate illumination began to emerge. As I stared apprehensively, the light intensified and, as it did so, brought forth the vaporous image of an old man, perhaps eighty years of age. He wore ragged clothing. There was a long beard flowing to the middle of his chest. He had straggly gray hair on his head, a stern countenance on his face. As I gazed, horror-struck, the image strengthened and the man became fully visible.

Instantly, another light materialized. This revealed the likeness of an elderly white-haired woman in coarse clothing, possibly the old man's wife. Then, there came a child holding the hand of the woman. In quick succession, there were other sparks of light and other people substantiating until the attic was filled with a weird humanity. All eyed me grimly.

Directing his remark to me, the old man spoke quietly in a low-pitched voice: "Get out of this house!". The woman spoke next vocalizing the same severe message, "Get out of this house!" The youngster repeated the command in the innocent tone of a child. Then, one by one, all the others in the room, enunciated the old man's formidable commandment.

In the next instant, everyone was making the declaration with varying degrees of vehemence and vigor. "Get out of this house! Get out of this house!" This continued for what seemed hours, then the old man began coming toward me, followed by the others. I edged backward as he advanced mindful that the open stairway was not far behind me. On and on they came, Back, back, I ventured. Then, suddenly, I felt the blood draining from my brain. My concept of existence faded and I lost consciousness.

In my next awareness of consciousness, I found Ann bending over me as I lay on the floor of the attic. "Hon, Hon, she was exclaiming, "Are you all right? What happened?" In the dim light I could see there was no one else in the attic.

"Ann," I gasped, "Is that really you?" I was in no condition for a quip, but attempted it anyway. "Ann, what you were saying about living in the city; I've changed my mind. I love the idea! We need to get out of this house! We need to get out of this house!"