A Haunting in Pennsylvania Part 2

I found my notes on this one the other day while I was cleaning out my desk so I thought it would be a good idea to finish what I started here.

I stood on the the creaky grey porch looking at the freaky doll with the X carved in its head and heard some noises from inside the house. Some rustling and labored footfalls. Someone approaching the door.

As I turned toward the door I caught a slight motion off to my right, near where the doll lay. Turning back to look I saw pale little face peeking around the side of the house. Dark eyes stared at me from behind strands of wispy dirty blond hair. The face belonged to a little girl. She was dressed in a tattered, faded blue dress and stood motionless on the other side of the porch rail, her grubby little hand clasped around one of the balusters.

She reached through the rickety sticks of peeling weathered wood and picked up the doll. Then she and ran away giggling, the doll flopping lifeless in her grip.

The door opened with a huge moaning creak and I thought I was gonna crap my pants. Luckily I didn’t, because I had left my change of clothes at the motel.

A large middle-aged woman stood in the entryway. She looked slightly unhappy, and a bit grungy with stringy dark hair which dangled around her plump face. Her raspy smoker’s voice cracked, “Can I help you?”

I informed her that I was there to investigate her claims of a haunting and she cheered up immediately. Here eyes grew wide with excitement as she stepped back a bit to let me pass. She smiled eagerly as she asked me in.

Following her waddling gait into the kitchen I looked around the space to get a general impression or vibe of her lifestyle. The place was cluttered. Not quite packed to a hoarder level but close. Old dusty pictures hung on walls covered with a faded, patterned wallpaper that had yellowed near the ceiling from many years of smoke exposure. The place stunk of cigarettes, farts and kitty litter. I Didn’t see any cats, yet.

She moved a pile of magazines from a chair at the kitchen table and motioned for me to sit down. Then she waddled over to the sink and began filling a dirty old tea kettle with water and asked if I wanted some tea. I passed.

I figured the sooner I get this started the sooner I can be out of here, so I asked, “When did your strange experiences begin Mrs…, uh…” I glanced down at my notes. Figures, Alfred had neglected to tell me the ladies name.

“My name is Mary Potter.” She called over her shoulder.

I smiled at the magical name and continued, “Ah, Mrs. Potter, right! Thank you. So… may I call you Mary, Mrs. Potter?”

She turned around fully after switching on the burner for the kettle and, with a rather disturbing wiggle of her bulbous hips and a wink, she replied in a sultry soft rasp, “Sure you can honey.”

Her rickety wooden chair groaned in protest as she lowered her ample rump to the incredibly flattened seat cushion.

I cleared my throat and continued, “So, Mary, tell me about your strange experiences.”

Her eyes grew wide with excitement and she was more than happy to endulge. She became quite animated as she shared her strange tale of paranormal activity…


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