~The Voice~

When I was 4 years of age, I hated the apartment that my family and I were living in.

It was a condominium, and was fairly new, only built a few years prior to us moving in there.  It was a gorgeous building really, and our apartment was quite nice, and was fairly large with three bedrooms and two bathrooms.  But I hated it.  The only thing I did like about living there, was the fact that there was a huge swimming pool, and my parents would often take me swimming.

My mom and dad's bedroom had a huge walk-in closet, and I hated it.  I was completely terrified of that closet.  I don't know why or when the fear exactly began, but I absolutely hated the closet pretty much right from the time we moved in.  I did not even like being in my parents bedroom unless one of them was in there with me, and even then I didn't really like being in there.  

I remember very vividly the time I told my mom that I hated her closet and when she asked me why, I told her that I believed someone had died in there.  I know my mom was a little more than creeped out by my response.  Why I said it, I have no idea, but it was simply how I felt.  And all I knew was that I hated that apartment, and I truly hated the closet in my parents room.

And if I wasn't creeped out enough; shortly after moving in there, I discovered that there was a cemetery right across the street.  I remember wondering to myself if perhaps the reason I hated our apartment so much was because it was haunted with ghosts from that cemetery.  I know, I had a very wild imagination.

At that time I had a children's record that I loved.  I would ask my mom to play it on the stereo in our living room just about every single day as soon as I came home from school, much to my older brother's dismay.

I would sit and listen to that record and happily sing right along to all the songs.  My brother was actually pretty cool about it, he never got angry with me, he would simply roll his eyes and go play in his bedroom.

One day while my mom was busy preparing dinner, and my brother was playing in his bedroom, I asked my mom to please put my record on for me.  My mom said okay, but told me not to have it too loud because my dad was taking a quick nap before dinner.  I happily agreed.

My mom put the record on for me, and I happily sat down in one of the big, soft comfy chairs in our living room.  It was the chair closest to the stereo.  I didn't normally sit in that chair since you couldn't really see the t.v from that chair. I normally sat on the couch, or in the other big comfy chair that was in the living room.  

A large ornate swag lamp hung above the chair that I was sitting in.  The lamp was hung slightly off centre and to the left above the chair.  I often remember my mom telling me not to pull on the lamp's cord or chain since it was very heavy and she didn't want me accidentally pulling it down on top of my head, even though my dad had made sure to secure the large screw to the ceiling, from which it hung.

Anyway, on that particular day while sitting in the living room and listening to my record, I suddenly heard as clear as day, a deep male voice say, "Move."

I immediately stopped singing along to my record, and looked up above my head, and around the room.  I knew for certain that I had just heard a man speak to me, but couldn't understand why I heard it when there was no one else in the room with me.

I sat looking around the room, feeling a little scared, but I assumed I must have simply been hearing things because there was no one in the room with me.  So, I began singing along to my record again.  But then, within a few minutes, I heard it again.  It was the same male voice.  Only this time the voice sounded kind of angry.  The voice was also a bit louder.  Again I heard, "Move!"

I stood up and looked around the room.  I then turned down my record and sat down on the coffee table.  I just sat there staring at the chair that I had been sitting in, wondering who it was that said that.  I knew I heard someone speak to me, but I couldn't understand how I could have heard it when there was no one in the room with me.

I called out to my mom, and she came into the room and asked what happened with my record.  I told her I had turned it down.  I then told her about the voice I had just heard.  My mom told me that I was probably just hearing things and told me not to worry.  She then turned the stereo back up for me. 

I trusted my mom and believed she was probably right, that it was probably nothing.  I sat back down in the chair again.  Within a few minutes I heard the same voice again, only this time it was louder and even more insistent and angry.  Again I heard, "MOVE!"

It was so loud it startled me, and I actually jumped up out of the chair.  I looked around the room again, looking towards the area in the room where I had just been sitting.  I was scared. I knew for certain that I had heard a man tell me to move again, yet there was no one in the room with me.  Who the hell was talking to me?

As I was thinking about the voice, and wondering where it came from, I slowly sat down on the couch.  Just as I did, the swag lamp hanging above the chair came crashing down into the chair.  It landed on the cushion of the chair where I had just been sitting.  

I called out to my mom, and immediately she came into the room.  She saw the lamp in the chair and asked me what happened.  She asked me if I had pulled on it.  I told her no.  I told her that it had simply fallen.

My mom walked over to the chair and commented how odd it was.  She said that she couldn't understand why the lamp would land in the chair and not fall straight down to the floor from where it had been hanging from the ceiling.

She then said, "Well, it's a damn good thing you weren't sitting there because the lamp would have smashed on top of your head and split it wide open."  My mom looked up to where the lamp had been hanging, and saw that the screw it had been hanging from, had come loose from the ceiling.

Just then, my dad who had awoken from his nap came into the room and asked what was going on. My mom showed him the lamp.  My dad asked what happened, and I told him that the lamp had simply fallen.  My mom showed him that the screw had come out of the ceiling.

Looking very concerned, my dad looked at me and then back at my mom and said, "Well it's a Goddamn good thing no one was sitting there, that lamp would have split their head wide open for sure."

My dad then checked out where the lamp had been hanging from the ceiling, and couldn't understand how the screw that it was suspended from could have possibly come loose, given how tightly he had secured it to the ceiling.

Like my mom, my dad commented that he couldn't understand why the lamp wouldn't have simply fallen straight down to the floor from where it had been hanging.  He wondered why it would fall on an angle and land in the chair. My mom told him she had wondered the same thing.

My dad said, "Either way, it's a good thing no one got hurt."  My mom and dad then decided to put the lamp away in the storage closet for the time being.

Many times throughout my life I've thought back to that day, and wondered who it was that spoke to me that afternoon.  

Was that apartment haunted, or did I just happen to have an over active imagination?  

Was whoever it was that told me to move, simply a wayward spirit that just happened to be there at the time, and decided to warn me?  Or, was it a deceased loved one of mine that was there watching over me?  

Either way, I'm grateful to whoever it was.

Thankfully my parents sold the condo a short time later, and we moved out of that spooky place.

This lamp is exactly like the one my parents had

The condominium we lived in, as it looks today

Copyright © 2013 A Haunted Life