A Haunted Touchstone

A Haunted Touchstone

Writers are taught and constantly reminded to write about what they know. That doesn’t mean that in order to write someone has to be an expert on the subject matter. If they are, of course that qualifies them as someone in the know. But even though knowledge is a solid foundation for a good story, the real power is generated by feelings and emotions. The best place for a writer to get in touch with those feelings and emotions is through reflection on his or her personal experiences. With all of that in mind, I prefer to interpret the write what you know rule as write from your experiences, and from your emotional responses to those experiences.

So continuing with the liberal definition of my writing touchstones, I’m including what I can only describe as a paranormal experience. I’m no expert on the subject, but over the course of my lifetime I’ve had several encounters that have defied rational explanation and challenged my understanding of what is normal. Some of the stranger things I’ve seen, felt and heard have impacted my outlook on life, and a few have found their way into my writing.

In the mid 1980’s along with our two young daughters, my wife and I traveled to England and met up with an aunt and uncle of mine who were not much older than we were. Over the years we became very good friends. Together we arranged a weekly rental of a thatched cottage in the village of Feniton in Devon. It was a sixteenth century building with thick whitewashed stone walls, a thoroughly charming and cozy place to stay. The cottage had two floors, bedrooms on both floors and a cavernous fireplace in the main room. My wife and I took one of the bedrooms upstairs; our girls were on the same floor in a room nearby.

That charming little place provided my wife and me with the most startling ride of our life. We had a first night full of strange experiences: the one described in the excerpt below that actually shook us out of our bed, several that scared our daughters and my aunt, and some undisclosed happenings that shortened the stay of my adult male cousin who was going to stay for a few days. He left well before dawn on the first night and drove to his sister’s place a few hours away. When asked about it later, he would only say that the place was very strange and gave him the creeps.

It was a bizarre week. Night time occurrences interrupted our sleep and lowered our energy levels during the day, but we’d paid a lot for the rental and the setting was beautiful. We all wanted to stay, and did, further bumps, frightening noises, and light switches that mysteriously turned on and off didn’t weaken our resolve.

Of all the things that happened in the cottage, the fright my wife and I experienced on the first night was by far the most dramatic. The event became a key influence for a scene in my novel, Diamond Run. I’ve included an excerpt of the fictionalized account below.

Just to clarify and manage your expectations, the paranormal events are described as they happened, but the references to stockings, garters and a teddy, are pure fiction, as was the mention of a gun… Sorry…but we were on a family holiday. Enjoy the excerpt.

N.B. The image attached to this post is not the actual cottage. It is attached to give the reader an idea of the size, shape and vintage of the actual place we stayed at in Devon.

* * *

I came awake in a hurry; I felt like I was falling. A man screamed at me. “Get out of this house!”

The bed shot into the air and came down with a thud. It was as if a massive creature had seized it, lifted it, shook it, and then threw it down. It kept happening. The shaking and bouncing became more violent. I was completely disoriented and struggled to swing my feet out of the bed… I landed on my knees on the floor, one hand trying to control the bed, the other searching for my gun.

Sue shrieked, reached across the top of the bed, and grabbed onto my wrist. She was holding on tight, but I couldn’t pull her away from whatever was holding her.

I managed to get to my feet, and felt like my legs were going to give out beneath me. Squinting through the darkness, I checked the entire room. There was no one there but Sue. The damn bed was still bouncing with her on it.

She called out, but not to me. “What is it? What do you want from me?”

The bouncing stopped.

“This is nuts, Sue,” I yelled. “What the hell is happening?”

She was shaking her head and sobbing. “He’s here. This has happened before.”

“Who’s here?”

I headed towards the light switch on the far wall. Before I got to the switch, I felt an icy chill down my back. It stopped me in my tracks.

A voice, the same one I’d heard before. This time there was a lot more force in the words. “Leave her alone, just let her be. Get out of here!”

I pushed through the cold spot. It clung to me until I got to the light switch and turned it on. The room was empty.

I looked at Sue. She stood up, still naked except for the stockings and garters. She still looked incredible; nervous and vulnerable, but incredible.

She threw on her teddy and a housecoat. “It’s gone. Come on, Phil, let’s go downstairs.”