It was my Junior year of college, and I had procrastinated the renewal of my lease. When I realized I couldn’t continue living at my current house, I had scant options. Luckily, some coworkers offered me their upstairs game room for $400/month. This was a stark difference from my previous $900/month rent, so I jumped at the opportunity. It was only supposed to be for a 4 month stint, and by January I would be moving back downtown with some college friends.
The residence was in Montgomery, about 18 minutes from Savannah proper. The house itself was a dark brick home with two levels and a large yard, which backed up to a swampy stretch of land. The property was inundated with oaks trees, draped with Spanish moss (you get the picture).
My roomates were substantially older than me, however they were still fun to hang out with. One night we were playing poker in the kitchen when we all heard a loud banging at the door. It sounded like someone was trying to enter the house, but the door was locked. We all thought it was our roomate Kyle, and that he had forgotten his keys. I promptly got up from the table to let him in, but when I opened the door, no one was there. I looked around outside, but all I saw was an empty yard. I went back to the table and my roomates remarked how they too thought someone was trying to get in. While I was somewhat confused, I didn’t think much of it and we continued with the card game.
A few weeks later my roomate Sean had picked up a bottle of Jameson, and after a brunch shift at the bar Sean, Billy, and I decided to day drink. We were sitting at the kitchen table and had already polished about a quarter of the bottle. We were talking about work, laughing, and taking shots. Then abruptly, the three of us were prompted to look at the linoleum counter top. I don’t know what prompted us, but when I peered over my shoulder I saw a bowl glide across the counter in a stifled manner. It was as if a frail finger was pushing it towards an indifferent destination. My eyes shot back to Sean and Billy, their mouths hung agape with shock. We started laughing again, but it was the type of nervous laughter one experiences whilst in danger. “Y’all saw that too, right?” asked Billy. We reassured him, and then I walked over to the countertop. I rubbed my hand over its surface expecting it to be damp, but it was bone dry. There was no breeze, no invisible string, no magician in the cubert. It was unsettling, but we laughed it off and went back to drinking.
A month or so passed and it was October. My parents drove down from North Georgia to visit, and brought Duke, our blue heeler, with them. We walked around River Street, ate at Vic’s, went to the candy kitchen. The whole shebang. After dinner my parents told me that their hotel wasn’t cool with pets, and they wanted me to keep Duke overnight. I was all for this and agreed. When Duke and I were dropped off at the house, I brought him inside. He played with my roomates for a while and when it got late, we went up to the game room. My bed was awkwardly placed in the room’s corner, and it faced two large windows on the wall opposite to me. At some point I fell asleep with Duke curled up at the foot of the bed. I’m a very heavy sleeper, not much will wake me up. Yet, out of a deep sleep I awoke to a low guttural growl. Moonlight shone in from the windows and I saw Duke standing. His heckles were raised and this guttural growl, which I had never heard before, persisted. He was looking up at something, something I couldn’t see. Whatever it was, it seemed to be lingering over the bed. I instantly felt uneasy and I grabbed the dog and pulled him close to me. This seemed to lull his aggression, and I somehow found my way back to sleep.
When November rolled around, I had decided I’d be attending my family’s Thanksgiving in North Georgia. Our house is on a small cattle farm up in Ellijay, and it’s especially nice in the fall. I drove up and visited for a couple of days. On one afternoon I felt overwhelmingly tired, so I went up to my room and took a nap. When I awoke, I couldn’t move. I felt my forehead beading with sweat. From the corner of my eye I could see my mirror, positioned above my dresser. What I saw In the reflection induced terror. An old woman, pale, bony, and damp, lingered over me. She had jet black hair and she exuded an energy of apprehension and malice. At this point I’m freaking out, struggling to break free from this paralysis. After a few moments I snapped out of it. My heart was racing and I leapt out of bed. The woman was no where to be seen.
December was my final month at the house, and one evening my roomates and I were taking turns playing Chess. I don’t remember how we got onto the topic, but we brought up death and dying. Billy then asked Sean about the woman that used to live in the house. Sean was a no nonsense type, honest to a fault and as far from sensational as a person could be. He paused for a second and looked at me. Then he told the story of the previous owners, which was relayed to him by one of our neighbors. There was an older couple who had previously resided there. The gentleman had severe dementia and his wife was his primary caretaker. One day the man was found walking around the neighborhood, and a neighbor returned him to the house. When they got inside, the neighbor was met with a rancid stench in the air. He called for the man’s wife, but there was no response. Concerned, the neighbor looked for her throughout the house. When he got to their bedroom the stench was overwhelming. In the bed the old woman laid dead, she had passed away and remained in that bed for a prolonged period of days.
I got cold chills when I heard this story, and I couldn’t help but think back to that odd sleep paralysis episode and all the other oddities that occurred in the house. I no longer live there, and the home has since been sold. Perhaps it was all unrelated anomalies and tricks of the subconscious. Though in honesty, I think something otherworldly was at play in the kitchen, halls, and bedrooms of that house in Montgomery.