The Haunt Thickens

As you know, Thevictorian household is no stranger to unexplained happenings. For the most part, things have been calmer this summer. Last week I heard something lay down in Genius's bed, and there was that one night it sounded like a disco dance floor up there, but it's been quieter than in the past.

Thursday, Genius called home because I told him to in a text. In the midst of finding out if he got the check I sent him for September expenses (you didn't think he'd call home to thank me, now did you?), he let some disturbing information slip. We were talking about his rental house, the one he just HAD to have, and camped out with his future roomies to make sure they got it when it became available during housing day, or whatever they call it.

"I know I said I loved being at the back of the house, because it's just woods and I don't need to put up curtains. But I don't like having the woods right next to me!" Said the boy who was raised in the woods. "Ever since I moved in here, I feel like something is watching me. Especially in my bedroom, or in the hall, or in the basement. We all feel like there's a presence here. Every time I come up from the basement, I feel like something followed me. It's eerie. Like something is right behind me. Not as much during daylight, but when I'm home alone, and at night, even when other people are here."

"EEEEE! You're scaring me."

"We're thinking of getting an OUIJA Board."

"NO!"

 "Mom. It's only fourteen dollars."

"I don't care what it COSTS! You don't want to mess with something like that! No need to attract energy that might not be positive."

"Settle down."

"You know things happen around here. The other night, something slept in your bed. I heard it lay down."

"I'll be fine. But there's some weird stuff in this house. In the basement, under the stairs, when we were looking through a crack with a light, trying to see if there was water damage under there...we saw a spent shell casing. And there are bloody claw marks on the walls. Two sets of them. Like somebody's hands were clawing at the wall. Then there's this really weird little room that we call the Rape Room. It's about the size of our living room closet at home. It's a tiny room with a DRAIN in the floor! And the lock is on the OUTSIDE of the door!"

"You are not making me feel any better, you know."

"It's really weird. AND, the breaker box has a breaker labeled 'KILN'. There is no kiln here! The house isn't even WIRED for a kiln!" Said the electrical engineering double-major.

You know how it goes. Pictures or it didn't happen!

So, as a special treat, I am sharing the pictures Genius sent of the scenes of the imagined crimes.

That's the staircase to not-heaven.

The done-it-himself pipe to the water softener, the crack through which they peered under the back wall of the stairs and saw the shell casing, which was sealed up tighter than anything was sealed up in "A Cask of Amontillado." His shadow cast by the bare light bulb lends a certain ambiance, don't you think?

Genius the southpaw takes a photo while demonstrating how he would try to claw out of a drywall wall in a basement.

The second set of claw marks.

The inappropriately-named room with the drain inside, that locks from the outside. No picture of the nonexistent kiln, though. Sorry.

I bet they can throw one not-heaven of a Halloween party!