I had to add this story, not only because it was written by someone known, but also because I am a firm believer in things and people being "haunted", or like I say... followed.
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I had no bedroom furniture at the time, only a bed frame and mattress set with a chest freezer for a headboard -- which was not a bad arrangement during the heat of summer.
I could reach above my head to lift the freezer lid and let it fall, sending a refreshing puff of cold air across my person. Mine was the only room in the house with air conditioning.
But after that day at the auction, I began sleeping in a real bed. It's a high and handsome 19th century antique with oak-panel headboard and footboard and a matching dresser.
Martha later tried to take possession of the suite. It was she, after all, who found it and convinced our dad to buy it. But I claimed squatter's rights and took it with me when I moved out.
How was I supposed to know it was haunted?
There was at least one early clue before I left home. Facing off one side of the bed during an afternoon nap, I felt someone lie down behind me.
I opened my eyes so frozen with fear that I could not roll over to see who it was. I convinced myself it was Grandma Walters, who had recently died.
Finally, I pulled myself off the bed and stumbled into the kitchen, where I breathlessly told my mother that her mother might have just visited me from the hereafter.
"Well, if she did," Mom laughed, "you needn't be afraid. She'd never come here to hurt you."
Fast-forward nearly 30 years. My 9-year-old daughter, Carly Grace, has been sleeping on said bed for most of her life.
For the rest of the story, please click on the text to be taken to source :)
