A Personal Account of a Poltergeist

by Meriwether Gordon

     We moved into our house in Millbrook, Alabama, in August of 1976. Our daughter, Susan, was living with us temporarily between marriages, together with her two boys, Danny, 8, and Todd, 7.

     The house is not a particularly pretty one. It was designed in a perfect rectangular shape, but the later addition of a den created an ell in the rear. Nevertheless, its brick structure gives it a solid, substantial look and its setting in a large one-time commercial pecan orchard is striking. Certainly, there is nothing sinister in its appearance.

     Almost immediately various of us began to comment on noises, creakings, rustlings and so forth that were difficult to explain. The first really remarkable even occurred one Saturday afternoon when the girls had gone shopping leaving me alone in the house. I began to hear sounds in the back bedroom that convinced me that someone was in the house. So sure I was that I went for my gun before going back to investigate. I found nothing. I was able to shrug it off as squirrels possibly, or something falling on and rolling down the roof.

     Later, when I mentioned the incident to Eve, she stated that she had experienced the same sort of thing several times.

     About two weeks later, Eve asked me to look behind the books in the bookcase for the possible presence of rats. She said that several books had fallen from the bookcase to the floor for no apparent reason. I looked but there was no way that rats--or anything else--could have made its way behind the books.

     Several days later in the late afternoon, I was seated at the breakfast counter that divides the living room from the kitchen when a glass suddenly jumped from the cabinet where it was stored with a dozen like it and fell to the floor smashing to pieces. I use the term "jump" deliberately. It cleared the counter under the cabinet which extends beyond the cabinet for a good eighteen inches. Anything simply falling from the cabinet would have to land on the counter, not the floor.

     I examined the cabinet thoroughly. All the other glasses were well to the back. Moreover, a wooden lip rises a half-inch above the shelf to prevent anything from slipping off. It would be impossible for a glass to fall from that shelf even with considerable jostling. It would have to be propelled with some force. Eve and I were both beginning to suspect something strange.

     The next event occurred some two weeks later. We were sitting down to dinner. Susan, the children, and I were already seated, and Eve was in the act of seating herself, when four books leaped from the bookcase and fell about four feet to the floor. I got up and inspected the shelf but could not find a reason for the incident. I replaced the books. I was surprised at how calmly everyone took this seemingly inexplicable occurrence although there was really nothing we could do about it. One curious aspect of the incident is that it is the only one so far that has taken place in the presence of anyone other than Eve and myself.

     The next incident occurred several weeks later. It was a weekend and Eve and I had been out somewhere, returning in the late afternoon. When I opened the door, I noticed some sort of debris which I took for scraps of paper on the floor. We have a raised fireplace with a brick hearth making a kind of shelf of brick about 18 inches above the floor and running alsmost the length of one side of the living room. Standing on it were fire tools, two brass candlesticks and two vase. One of the vases was a rather valuable one we had bought in a tourist attraction out West. This vase had been dashed to the floor strongly and the debris was its smashed pieces. Splinters of it were everywhere. One piece had rebounded with sufficient force to clear the breakfast counter and come to rest on the stove. Several pieces had flown completely over the sofa on the other side of the room, and some were in the hall. This display of strength was disconcerting and not to be the last time.

     A period of relative quiet ensued although Eve has reported several incidents ex post facto that she neglected to tell me about at the time. These are difficult to place in sequence. Once, she returned from shopping to find that various things that had been stored on top of the refrigerator had been removed and placed in the same relative positions on the floor in front of the refrigerator.

     Another time she returned to find every door in the kitchen open including the cabinets, oven, microwave, and refrigerator. There are thirty-four cabinet doors.

     The next major incident did not involve me. We were adding a patio behind the house. J.G., our dependable Millbrook "man for all seasons," was doing the work. When some difficulty arose with the bathroom plumbing, Eve calle J. off the the patio to see to it. He brought his estimable took-kit with him and went to work. Eve left to go shopping. He finished the work and leaving his tool-kit in the bathroom returned to the patio. When Eve returned he took her to the bathroom to show her what he had done. He found his tools distributed from one end of the house to the other. Some were in the bedrooms; some in the hall, living-room, and kitchen. The box was overturned. He was a little red with anger at first but finally drew the only possible sane conclusion. Looking at our minature dachshund, Molly; he said: "You wouldn't believe a dog that small could make all that mess."

     Several weeks followed without mishap. After sometime with everything perfectly normal, we begin to wonder if we weren't unduly credulous or if anything odd really happened at all. However, if it didn't we were certainly playing a folie a deux. We both see it.

     The next thing happened on a week-day morning. I got out of bed, got the paper and read it, drank my tea, did the cross-word puzzle, and did in general what I always do. Then I headed to the bathroom for my morning ablutions. On the wall of the hall leading down to the bedrooms and bath are a number of shap-shots in small frames. Eight of those were lying on the floor, not at random, but evenly arranged, face up. If they had fallen, they would have landed with the heavy, i.e., glass-side, down. Also, they would have rolled. As I was rehanging them, I knocked one off. Sure enough, it landed face down and rolled five feet or more away. One picture had not been removed but had been rotated counterclockwise so that it was hanging sideways.

     I thought the incident so remarkable that I called Eve from the office later on, to tell her about it. Later in the day she called me back. She said that when she had entered the back bedrooms, the bed-clothes had been torn from the beds and strewn on the floor. The mattresses had then been pushed off on top.

     About three weeks later, one of the oddest of the incidents occurred. It was late afternoon-nearly dusk. Eve had not been feeling well and was lying on the sofa. I was sitting in an easy chair. We were watching T.V. Eve's regular breathing informed me that she was asleep. My eyes were heavy, and I commenced to doze in the chair. Suddenly a sharp crash awakened us both. Something seemed to have fallen from the mantelpiece to the brick hearth below. I rushed over to see. It was a teacup, utterly smashed. As I leaned over to inspect it, Eve choked out: "Look at the lamp." I did look, it hangs by a chain from the ceiling. It was swinging; not just a little, but wildly. Then the rocking chair, positioned just under the lamp commenced sedately to rock.

     The cup had apparently fallen or been dropped from the mantel. But there was never a cup on the mantel. We never drink tea over there and wouldn't have put a cup on the highly posished surface anyway. How it got there remains a mystery. What pushed the lamp and rocker we don't know, but it gave us goose-bumps.

     Several weeks passed again without incident. Again we commenced to forget all about it. Then one Sunday, I got up, read the papers, sipped some tea and went to the bathroom to shower and shave. I came out and went into the bedroom which I reserve for my clothing--a sort of walk-in closet--and dressed. When I returned to the living-room, it was a shambles. Everything on the breakfast counter, newspaper, filled ash-tray, magazines, and letters had been swept to the floor. Newspaper was spread from one end of the room to the other. Chairs were overturned. The mess was so obviously deliberate that I was more angry than frightened. Then, when I commenced to clean up, I realized that the mess was really quite superficial. I picked up the papers so that all I had to do was pick it up and dump it in the wast can. A china bouquet of flowershad been resting on a heavy brass trivet as a centerpiece on the dining table. Both trivet and bouquest were lying face down on the floor some twelve or fourteen feet from the table. The fragile bouquet was unharmed.

     Later that day, one of Eve's friends arrived--a devout man-hater and settled herself in the living froom for girl-talk. I sought refuge cracking pecans in the carport. Soon Eve poked her head out the door and in a distraught whisper said: "I can't get the door of your dressing room open. Something is not right in there." I went in and tried the door. It opened easily enough for about a foot. I could see by the mess why it wouldn't open any further. Everything on the dresser had been swept to the floor--neckties, a box full of pennies, belts, and odds and ends. Next a drawer full of socks had bene snatched from the dresser and inverted on the floor. Then a love-seat--a heavy one that opened into a single bed--had been jerked from the far wall and inverted over the mess. On top of that, a metal rack on which most of my clothing was hung had been pushed over. The total effect was one of disaster.

     The clothing was so heavy that I could not right the rack. I had to take all the clothing off, set the rack up again, then hang everything back up. I took thirty minutes of har work to straighten everything. We don't think Eve's friend noticed anything.

     After that, it was a long time between manifestations. We had almotst forgotten the thing again when I took a Friday off from work to go shopping. When we returned from an afternoon at the mall, Eve unlocked the front door and stepped inside, then stepped immediately back out saying: "We've had another visit."

     I went in. The dining room table had been neatly inverted, legs sticking in the air. The chairs were lying on their backs around it. The famous china bouquet was repositioned on its trivet in the exact center of the table where it had been before the inversion. Molly, the doxy, seemed glad to get out and, for the first time in her little canine life, seemed reluctant to come back in. Prior to that time she had seemed remarkable insensitive to unseen presences. According to the general literature on the subject, she should have been frantic most of the time.

     Well, that's about it for now, On the following Monday, Eve arose to find a few dirty clothes of mine, pajamas and underwear that had been in the bathroom, strewn down the hall toward the living room. She accused me, but I am innocent. Nevertheless, this was a mild display after some we've seen.

     I keep trying to generalize about the incidents but can't come up with much. They seem to occur on the average about once every five to six weeks. However, they seem to occur in pairs. One incident; then another in less than a week. Then often nearly two months before another. The second incident is generally milder than the first, but not always.

     For another thing "it" seems singularly selective and forbearing in what it breaks. So far, the full damage has been the inexpensive vase, one glass, and one cup. The expensive china bouquet has been manipulated twice but remains intact. If "it" is a poltergeist, "it" does not seem as malicious and destructive as these creatures are reputed to ve, despite its undoubted strength. If "it" isn't a poltergeist, God (or the Devil) knows what it is.

     Eve feels manaced. She says she thinks it may simply be trying to attract our attention to warn us of some impending disaster. Other times, she seems to consider it a threat. She is right when she says it seems to be getting stronger. There's a difference between pushing books from the bookcase, and flipping heaving love seats around the room.

     On the other hand, is seems to have a human understanding of value. Eve's expensive collection of Royal Daulton figurines has never even been touched. It also seems to have even a touch of humor. Note the neatly repositioned center-piece on the inverted table.

     There is, however, a sinister side. When I moved here two years ago, I was a hale, hearty racquet-baller who looked forward to his daily game with gusto. Now, I can't even play. I seemed to have aged ten years in two. Eve's health, never good, has been much worse than ever. Of course, she has a known heart condition and I have had three bouts with a most malignant type of flu. Still, we're neither of us the same as we were two years ago. Could it be that "it" draws its strength from us? That is takes a month or six weeks to sap enough for a manifestation? I am not frightened, but I am alerted. I think we should probably arrange to leave this place. Meanwhile, I want to log dates of manifestation and try to see if there is a pattern. I intend to keep this log from now on.

     I did not have long to wait. On Friday, 7 April, 1978, the day after writing the above, I came home at noon intending to drive into the courthouse in Wetumpka abotu taxes on our lake property. Eve told me that she had been subjected to a series of knocking noises from the rear of the house. She said it was so loud and strong that she had no doubt that workmen were doing something behind the house. She went out to investigate but found nothing.

     When she went back in, the knocking had ceased but soon it resumed. We have a hutch arrangement at the end of the hall displaying soem willow-pattern china. Eve said the knocking was coming with such force that the china pieces were vibrating and rattling on the shelf.

     She was under the impression that the back of the hall coincided with the back of the house. Actually, it coincides with the wall of the closet in the master bedroom. The opposite wall of the closet coincides with the back of the house. To jostle the china, the noise would have to come from the closet. There was no sign of any force exerted on this wall.

     On Tuesday, 11 April, 1978, Eve called me at the office right after lunch--about 1315 hours. She said she was feeling "funny" and wanted to talk to somebody. We talked a while; then I commenced to hear a regular, rhythmic pounding noise over the telephone. I took it for some sort of static and asked if she could hear it too. She told me that the pounding from last Friday had just resumed. Then she burst into tears.

     I hurried home. I found her in a most distraught state, tearful and frightened. She said she had felt a sort of hopeless feeling prior to calling me. The knocking had resumed while we were talking. Investigation revealed no explanation.

     Friday was sunny and warm, a beautiful spring day. Today it is dark and raining.

April 21, 1978

     Eve reports another rather minor manifestation. She was out on the patio spraying for insects. Came back into the house to find a portrait of Susan--one of the those chalk things the sidewalk artists do--on the floor leaning against the wall face down. It had been hanging in the hall. It was directly under the place where it had been hanging, but could not possibly have fallen in that position.

     The weather is sunny; unseasonably cool. Ten days since the last manifestation.

May 17, 1978

     Twenty-six days since the last manifestation. After so much time, we begin to wonder if we just imagined it all. I keep expecting something to happen; then think of myself as all kinds of a fool when it doesn't. That isn't to say that there have not been strange taps and rappings, but there are always alternate explanations for these. It would be better though if they didn't mostly come from the same back bedroom.

     The back bathroom--generally thought of as "mine"--has two doors; one opening from the hall; the other from the back bedroom. The bedroom door is situated right in front of the commode. It has a little play in it when closed, and tends to rattle a lot. This is unnerving when there is no apparent reason. Only so much can be blamed on "air currents" or "drafts." Anyway, I got tired of listening to it last night, tore the cardboard back off a 3 x 5 paper pad, folded it twice, and jammed it in the door in such a way as to take up the play. No more rattling. Perhaps this stimulated the incident.

     Shortly, after we retired--just as we'd both had time to get well off to sleep--there was a tremendous crash as of treat quanitities of china breaking. I would have slept through it--indomitable sleeper that I am, but Eve's reaction awakened me. After I was awake I remember "having heard it." I did my best to comfort Eve and went back to sleep. She says there were three more lesser crashes during the night. I didn't hear them, but Eve was haggard and with a headache. She said she hadn't been able to sleep.

     When I got up, I looked for damges but couldn't find any. Eve got up while I was in the bathroom shaving. She noticed immediately that the cut-glass she has on display facing the dining room table was in disarray. The pieces werwe out of place; many lying on their sides. The glass doors to the hutch they were in were still closed. It looked--she said--and sounded as if the whole thing had been lifted about a foot off the floor and then dropped. Nothing was broken.

     Another beautiful theory is shot. I had hypothesized that the longer the interval between manifestations, the worse (or more intense) the manifestation. This rather mild demonstration blows that idea unless worse is to follow soon. Perhaps it will. Manifestations seem to occur in sets. We're both rather nervous tonight.

     At any rate, the "creature's" inventiveness seems to continue. It rarely (but sometimes) does the same thing twice.

     By the way, I notice that my piece of cardboard is still jammed in the door. No more rattling. (There wre realy strange noises coming from that room Sunday morning while I was in the bathroom. I attributed them to squirrels on the roof, but can't help wondering why the squirrels do all their running on the roof over that room only.)

     All I can say is that something dropped a box on my thumb out of thin air. The incident seems like a harmless bit of mischief. Still, I realize that if it could drop a box on my thumb, it could also drop a brick on my head. I also realize that despite its seeming forbearance with the little china bouquet, the creature finally did break it.

     While discussing the incident with Eve this evening, we hit upon another rather ugly anomaly that became manifest yesterday. Eve has been absent from the house every day this week attending a training course she is taking in the hope of getting a job she wants. Molly (our dachsund) has had to stay shut up in the house all day. Sometimes such circumstances tax her plumbing apparatus, and she has been known to err, with considerable remorse, on the floor. Last night, Eve discovered a large, moist, and revolting deposit on the patio. I cleaned up the mess with shovel, paper, and finally soapy water and rag. It was not at all like Molly's usual deposits which are dry, well-formed and easily scooped-up on a piece of newspaper.

     Today, as we review yesterday's incident, Eve wonders how Molly got on the patio. The door was shut. Nobody had been out there prior to Eve's discovery. If Molly was on the patio, somebody (?) let her out; then let her back in. If Molly didn't do it, who (what) did? (The patio is screened with a locked screen door.)

     I reminded Eve that the literature on poltergeists is full of incidents of excrement throwing. I do hope we're not going to get in that. I'd rather be hit with a bicarb box.

     We are hoping for another two or three week's remission.

1 June 1978

     I got up this morning and went to work as usual. Everything was normal. Eve called me about 10:00 a.m. and reported that when she got up and emerged from the bedroom, every light in the house was on. This even included the little light in the oven. I particularly remember finding that little light left on the night before, when she finished cooking, and turning it off myself.

9 June 1978

     We returned from a week in Florida today. Arrived to find everything in order--a relief since we half-expected a shambles. However, Eve woke me in the night--somewhere between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.--very disturbed. Said she kept hearing "creakings and rumblings." I heard nothing myself. I tried to comfort her, then went back to sleep. Nothing awry in the morning.

12 June 1978

     Another manifestation. This time at a new level of wanton destructiveness and malevolence.

     After work instead of going to the gym or home, as is my custom, I met Eve at Morrison's in Montgomery Hall for dinner prior to going to visit a Major Thompson who had a townhouse for sale.

     After the visit Eve said she had some shopping to do at Penney's and asked if I wanted to come with her. I told her: "No, just drop me at my car and I'll go on home."

     When I arrived and entered the house, the scene was appalling. Pieces of broken china were scattered from one end of the living room to the other and all the way up the hall. Few fragments were as big as a silver dollar--most not bigger than a nickel. It would be hard to shatter a piece that thoroughly on our soft shag rug. The pieces must have been trampled on or crumpled.

     The doors in the bottom of the hutch at the back of the hall (the one displaying the blue willow) had been opened and the contents removed and smashed. Some silver pieces were simply thrown out on the floor. One silver pitcher was dented. Some of the china pieces were quite valuable.

     Presiding over the entire mess were two china figurines which had been on display on top of the hutch. These were carefully placed on a corner of the coffee table, the heads neatly twisted off and placed beside them. This must have taken some twisting since the heads proved to have been articulated to the bodies with a strong piece of wire.

     Over all was a curtain rod with a spear-shaped finial at one end. It had been jammed between the two pillows of the sofa and down into the crotch between the back of the sofa and the seat. It rose like a flag-pole over the entire spectacle-or perhaps more like a spear.

     I was unable to identify all the fragments and waited for Eve before attempting to clean it up. She identified each beloved piece and estimated the damage was in excess of $100.00. It took us over an hour to clean it all up. When we finished, the large plastic waste-can we used for the pieces was over half full and so heavy that I needed both hands to carry it out.

     I almost forgot one other little detail. A little clay dish--a sort of coaster for a potted plant--had been carefully crumpled and the pieces dropped in the center of the stool where I usually sit at the breakfast counter to eat, read, or write. I am sitting there now. A private, special little gift for me, I suppose.

14 June 1978

     Eve reports a resumption of the pounding this morning. Shortly after I left for work, she arose and came into the living room. Soon after that, the pounding began. She says it was louder than before. Indeed, she says it was hard to believe that the wall was not buckling under the force of the blows. Still, there is no sign of damage. (However, there are a few scratches on the paneling in the hall as a result of the china shattering of day before yesterday).

     Eve simply dressed and left the house. She returned later long enough to change clothes, then left again to go to work. We met for supper and went home together. Everything normal.

     We both remember the terrifying scene from Shirley Jackson's Haunting of Hill House, where the people in the bedroom were subjected to the pounding on the door, which strained the hinges and buckled the beams while the people in the next room heard nothing. The movie rendition of this was particularly effective.

     Oddly enough, Eve says, Molly doesn't react to the pounding at all. It's as if she didn't hear it.

Wednesday 12 July

     Things have been very quiet for quite a while. The other night while Eve was fixing supper, the chandelier over the dining room began to swing. Nothing else. It's funny, after all that's happened, I barely regarded that as worth writing about. A year ago, it would have scared hell out of me.

     Eve reports another mild manifestation today. She has a young black girl who comes in supposedly once a week although she frequently calls and says she is "too tired to make it"--or sometimes just doesn't come.

     Eve has been down this past week with another case of the extremely virulent flu that has plagued both of us for the past year. She had a temperature of 104 degrees night before last, so it's fortunate the girl elected to show up today.

     Anyway, she headed off to my bathroom to clean it with a box of Comet in her hand. In a few minutes she was back to the bedroom asking for cleaning rags. Eve told her where to look and she returned to the bathroom. In a few more minutes she was back again. "Mrs. Gordon," she said, "There's Comet all over the bathroom--on the sink, on the floor, in the tub, even up on the walls. How did the Comet get up on the walls, Mrs. Gordon?"

     Eve said she simply couldn't imagine how. The girl looked very suspicious, but obviously Eve couldn't have gotten to the bathroom without walking past her, and there were only the two of them in the house.

     "Well," she said, "I guess the can must have exploded."

     "Yes," Eve replied. "I guess that's it. The can exploded. Maybe it's the heat."

     I hope the girl doesn't expect anything. Would hate to have the haunting get out at this late date.

     I am suspicious of Eve's inordinately hard bout with the flu following the recent powerful manifestation followed by nearly a month of relative calm. It's as though the creature had to build up its strength after the strenuous display--at Eve's expense.

     Well, we're nearing the end now. Eve's guests from England arrive a week from next Tuesday. On the following Friday, we go to Ft. Walton for four days. After that Eve and her guests leave for California. When she gets back, we should be able to move. Not much over a month left to go. Surely, we can survive that.

Monday, 24 July, 1978

     Another mild manifestation. Eve's guests from England are due to arrive tomorrow night. We called Robin to confirm her plans to visit him. He gave us the very welcome news that Jeffri was pregnant. All-in-all a very pleasant but rather exciting day. About nine Eve said she was tired and went to bed to watch T.V. I stayed in the living room reading. About 9:30 I observed that Eve had a pretty good play on the tube and went up to watch it with her. Took a drink along and sipped it until the play was over at 10:00. Then I returned to my book. Found the rocking chair up-ended and one of the over-stuffed chairs also. Balanced precariously on top of the inverted over-stuffed chair was Eve's little plastic laundry basket which she used to empty the dryer. All this when I was in the next room--door open, and never a sound. Molly never budged. It can't have any odor or surely she would notice.

     This was not the first manifestation since the last one I reported on 12 July. Eve reports coming into the living room once to find the cushions from the three over-stuffed chairs stacked on the floor. Another time she was cleaning the master bedroom when an artificial plant she has there in a hanging basket began to swing in circles. When she left the room the same cushions from the chairs were this time stacked on the hassock.

     Also, the grandfather clock has stopped twice for no reason. The pendulum simply stops swinging. I've reached the point where these simple, minor manifestations do not seem worth recording. Auto-kinesis is becoming a routine, natural phenomenon. "Good grief." We both hope and pray that the damned thing will be quiet while our guests are here.

Final Entry, 1 October 1978

     It was quiet. Eve's guests arrived; we went to Florida; returned for one day and then they all departed for California. I confess to some nervousness about staying alone there for a month. Nevertheless, I did, and there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

     They returned three weeks later from California; we took the guests to Washington, D.C. and after two days of sight-seeing, put them on the plane back to England. We returned to Montgomery and, on the day after Labor Day, moved. Not a sound.

     Our salesman who sold us the new house, the same one who sold our house in Millbrook to a family names Williams, tells us that the Williams' are complaining about the house "settling"--it makes strange noises--.

Last Final Entry, 6 Sept 1979

     Eve received a phone call from Mr. Williams asking if we knew of anything wrong with the house. Eve replied that as far as she knew the house was in good shape when he bought it. He said that when he came home the other day, the doors to all three of the back bedrooms had been blown out of the wall. It was as if, he said, an explosion had occurred in each of the rooms. The doors were still in the frames, but the frames themselves--doors and all had separated from the walls are were sitting out in the hall. He complained about the expense of repair prior to selling.

     Eve asked if he were returning to Montgomery. He replied that he and his wife were leaving the entire area and moving to Huntsville. His wife--a local bank employee--had arranged for a transfer to Huntsville. He himself had quit his job with a local realtor and would seek new employment.

     He said that his wife had gone to live with her mother pending resale. He said that in his opinion, the house had "never been built square." He asked us not to mention his problem to any of the realtors because "these stories get around."

     He has been living in the house for less than a year. It sounded as if he and his wife are terrified. In my opinion, one incident with doors is not enough to produce such a massive reaction. They must have sustained something like what we went through.

     I don't see how he can sell that house for enough to get out scot free. He paid too much for that. I had to ask the maximum to get out myself. However, Eve said he seemed determined to get out at any price.

Post-Final Entry, 12 June, 1980

     I had a conversation with my co-worker, Mr. V. V. Smith, to whom I had confided my Millbrook experiences. He told me that we had a new employee in the "Word Processing Center" who was a native of Millbrook. He had mentioned to her that he had a friend who alleged that he had lived in a "haunted house" in Millbrook. She replied that there were several houses in Millbrook with some strange stories being circulated. He asked her where they were located. She replied that the most notorious was a red brick house on Chapman Road in the middle of a pecan grove...

     Of course, I dropped down to see her and inquired about what she had heard. It turned out that her mother, a Mrs. Jackson, was the real estate salesman through whom the Williams' had bought the house from us. They had complained to her of strange noises in the night, unexplained breakage, and various other strange occurrences.

     Apparently, the worst manifestation occurred one night when a teenage boy got out of bed to go to the bathroom. When he tried to come back out, he was unable to get the door open. His outcries finally aroused Mrs. Williams and her aged father who lived with them. They came and combined their efforts to open the door. By straining they were able to open it by three or four inches, whereupon it would snap shut again. After about an hour of such sustained effort, the door was suddenly released and thereafter opened and closed freely.

     Mrs. Jackson commented on the Williams' speedy departure from the house and on the fact that Mrs. Williams gave up a very good job in order to move to Huntsville.