I don’t like my new house. I don’t hate it, but I don’t understand why we moved so quickly after our last house. The sellers seemed really nice, but they were pretty weird. They were moving to a farm in like Utah or Montana or somewheres like that so the dad could “start his church”, described as kind of like Christianity, but kind of not. I made a joke about him sounding like a cult leader to my mom. It’s just me and my mom living together, so we really don’t need to keep moving into bigger and bigger houses. And when I say bigger, I mean this one is HUGE. I grew up in Baltimore in a small townhouse so any average suburban home is a mansion to me. We were the old house (our first one after the Baltimore home) just long enough to settle in, and then it was up and moving again.
I was convinced my old house was haunted, but I was a dramatic and superstition teenager, and my boyfriend (best friend at the time) thought it would be funny to scare me. It worked. This house, though, he promised not to do it, so I never saw anything wrong with it when it wasn’t pointed out. Our next door neighbors made a comment once about it seeming to have been lived in before we moved in right after the sellers left, saying they saw curtains moving and smelling smoke from the chimney, but I didn’t really think much about it.
Aside from the occasional late-night horror movie marathon and psyching myself out, I never felt uncomfortable in the home. There aren’t really a plethora of haunted houses in Churchville, Maryland. So a month and a half went by, and I felt safer than I had in the old house. One day, my mom says to me, “Have you noticed that the garbage disposal keeps making noise?” I was really confused because I hadn’t heard it up to that point. A few minutes go by.
“There it is again!” she said. “It goes off every 15 minutes exactly. It’s not hard to tell because it’s on the hour.”
Every 15th, 30th, 40th, and 60th minute of the hour, the garbage disposal turns on for about 5 seconds. Neither of us have any clue why, it didn’t do that when we first got there. Well, whatever, it didn’t bother me too much. But at the start of summer break, I just finished my senior year of high school, I started staying up later, and I swear it was even louder at night. I could hear it from upstairs, all the way across the house, with my door shut. I guess everything feels louder at night.
Two nights ago, I was still awake by 3am. I almost want to change that and lie about the time because this seems so fake. Stereotypical “witching hour”, but I digress. I heard the noise and it’s so loud the house may as well have been shaking. I tiptoed downstairs at 3:10. It took me a while to work up the courage, I’m a baby. I reached the kitchen and I stood in the doorway. I still don’t know what light switches go to which light, there’s just too many to memorize, so I left the lights off. Bad idea on my part, but hindsight is 20/20. Slowly, I make my way over to the sink. It was almost time for the garbage disposal to make its noise again. I leaned over the sink, and sure enough at exactly 3:15, the garbage disposal started going off. I peeked over the sink to get a good look, and I wish I hadn’t. Blood spattered up all over my face, all down my shirt, and all over our white quartz countertops. I covered my mouth to hold in the scream that was about to escape my body.
I took a step back and I stood in the middle kitchen for a few minutes in shock. Once I snapped out of it, I realized I didn’t want to be caught downstairs at 3:30. I felt so sick to my stomach, the smell of blood was so strong I almost threw up. I pushed through and cleaned up my face, then the countertops. I threw the first paper towel in the trash, and when I went to throw the second one in there, the blood was gone. Just dry paper towels. I turned around to look at the sink and it was perfectly fine.
“That’s some Pennywise-type shit,” I remember thinking to myself. Had I imagined it? This was too weird.
I looked over at the clock and it said 3:27. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” I repeated as I hurried myself to my room. I made it up there with 2 minutes to spare. I wasted no time in hiding under my covers away from the dark. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the bloody counters and could feel it drip off my face. I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I had no clue what was in the sink. Maybe a mouse got caught? We didn’t get mice here though. My house was surrounded by trees and greenery— not the fun kind unfortunately— but it was a big neighborhood with plenty of houses within sight and it was a well taken care of development. Everything, living or not, was there deliberately. So it was possible I guess, but really not likely. My next thought was that since I had tried shrooms for the first time earlier that day, it was probably some lingering effect. But that didn’t make sense either because it had been almost 17 hours and it usually is out of your system within 6. Through tears, I looked around my room one more time to make sure it was safe, and I hid myself again. I don’t remember falling asleep but I woke up with a fuzzy enough memory of the night before, so I originally assumed it to be a nightmare. Nothing happened the night after.
Every night, I listen to podcasts of people reading stories in really quiet voices with soft music behind it, and my current fixation was Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. I’ve always been intrigued by the weird and colorful world that Lewis Carroll painted for us. But tonight, when I turned on the podcast, I could immediately tell something was off. I wasn’t able to put my finger on it at first, and then it hit me. The music. It wasn’t the gentle background noise anymore. It was stranger, a little creepy even. I sat up and checked my phone to make sure it was the same podcast as usual, and it was. It was extremely unsettling, but I was tired enough I’d ignore it. Then I heard the garbage disposal turn on. It was so loud i couldn’t hear my phone that was right next to my ear. I pulled the blankets over my head and waited it out. Then, silence. Even from my phone. I was too afraid to sleep in silence, so I picked up my phone to see what happened. The second I touched it, the soft-voiced woman started reading again. It startled me at first, but I was glad it was on. But, as it always seems to go, something was seriously wrong and I find myself wishing it hadn’t once again.
The scene started normal. Alice was in front of the Dutchess’s house, talking to the doorman. Then, the door flies open and a plate goes right past the doorman’s head, missing my just a hair. Not this time. The soft-voiced woman goes into bloody, gory, detail of what happened when the plate didn’t miss. Her voice was slower and there was some kind of emotion behind it, or maybe it was the lack thereof that threw me off. The story goes on, and it’s some of the most disgusting shit I’ve ever heard. I can’t even bring myself to repeat it. I couldn’t turn my phone off. I couldn’t pause it. I couldn’t turn the volume down. I shoved my face under my pillow and cried for what felt like hours. It must’ve only been 15 minutes because the garbage disposal went off again, and then she was reading the story like normal. Alice was at the tea party with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare. I listened quietly, and it was definitely the story I remember. And the same comforting music.
I suddenly got a burst of confidence.
I tossed my covers off and ran downstairs. I flip the switch on the garbage disposal, and then flip it off again. Hey, it works with cell phones, right? It went off anyway at 11:30, but I was ready with my flashlight. I looked down the drain and, once again, wished I hadn’t. I’m picking up on a common theme here.
So that’s how I got here, with my sleeves rolled up about to stick my hand in the drain. Waiting for 11:45 so I know I have a solid 15 minutes to meddle in something that I should NOT be meddling in. Between the things my neighbors said, the “nightmare” I had that I’m pretty sure wasn’t a nightmare, and the god damn sleep podcast. So I guess what I’m looking for here is advice. Is my house haunted? Am I having a psychotic break? Should I investigate and update you guys or not?