As soon as I started reading again, the light turned off. Something was going on and it was driving me nuts. Did we really have ghosts or poltergeists here? Are they really real? I’d never thought so before but as soon as I turned the light back on, it went off again almost immediately. I turned it back on and it went back off. At first I was afraid and kept looking around but I couldn’t see anything. This off and on with the lamp went on for about ten minutes and then stopped.
I got up to get a drink and to get away from the lamp for a few minutes to think about what was going on and whether or not I was going bonkers. It just didn’t seem real, but it was definitely happening. On the way to the kitchen, I felt something kind of touch my ankle again, but this time it was much different than when I tripped. It almost felt like a light caress as whatever it was seemed to rub a hand up and down my ankle. I kind of lost it there for a moment and rushed into the kitchen where I splashed some cold water on my face and stood there not moving for about five minutes. Nothing else happened that night and as I said earlier, this went on for two more nights with the lamp and then stopped altogether.
For three days these strange things happened. I started to think it was pretty funny and actually started talking to whatever it was that was doing it. It was really weird because I would dare it to do it again and almost right away it would happen again. I enjoyed this little interplay but after the third night it stopped happening.
I don’t know what all this meant but it certainly changed my mind about ghosts, or spirits, or whatever they’re referred to as. I know what happened to me and I wasn’t the only one who saw some of these strange events. I’ve talked to some of the same people who were there that night playing cards: some didn’t want to talk about it, some thought it was funny and I was somehow doing it, and some talked to me about ghosts. We all agreed that whatever it was, it was nothing to take lightly; a few took it further saying that it proved there was life after death. I’m not too sure about that, but I am sure that there is something to ghost stories or experiences that defy explanation. Maybe this does show that we go to another place when we die. There are hundreds of theories about that and mine was just another incident in what seems to be a fairly commonplace experience. I’ll never forget it. If it was a ghost, it was a prankster, and I sometimes miss the fun we had.
“And this present is for you, Ava.” My daughter’s eyes grew big when my friend Sarah handed her a package. Sarah and Martin were friends of mine from college. Whilst I had been a single mum to Ava, they had spent the last few years saving up for the year of traveling, which they had just returned from. The two of them visited us with endless tales, which were more interesting to them than anyone else, and a selection of odd presents, which I graciously accepted.
Ava tried to rip open her present, but being three, it proved difficult. As she finally pulled the present out, a large amount of black matted string appeared first, and then a horrid round head. Ava’s excitement turned wary. I took the package and pulled out the present. It was a doll stuffed with sharp straw that poked through its fabric body. Its face was carved wood and painted white like a skeleton, with black holes for eyes and a mouth sewn up with black string. It was dressed in a black lace shawl—not only highly unsuitable for a three-year-old child, but utterly repulsive and macabre.
“Thank you so much. What an unusual present; Ava will love it,” I said, my British compulsion to lie outweighing my disgust.
“See,” Sarah gushed at Martin. “I told you she would love it.”
Ava was now sitting on the floor behind a chair with her back to us. She was stroking our new kitten, Pebbles, and I could tell Ava wasn’t happy.
“Ava, sweetheart,” I said. “Could you come here and thank Sarah and Martin.” Ava didn’t respond, so I went over and picked her up. She buried her face in my neck. “She must be tired,” I apologized.
“I don’t like that doll,” she said and I winced. Sarah and Martin made their excuses and left.
“I don’t like the doll either, Ava, don’t worry,” I said after they had gone. I put Ava down, picked up the doll, and took it to the kitchen. I opened the trash bin, and then hesitated. The doll was a present, after all, so I placed it on the kitchen table and took
