It was July 4th 1999 and it was the day that my friends and I shared the weirdest and still, unexplained experience we have ever had. There were four of us, Matt, Michelle, Lynn, and me. We had started the day by searching the local cemeteries for the gravestones of the previous owners of Matt's house, Mr. and Mrs. Ebenezer Albott. To fill you in on why we decide to search the cemeteries, it would be best to go back to the beginning.

Matt's house is chronicled as the second oldest in the small town of Templeton. The only other family to have lived in the house was the Albotts. Ebenezer and his wife disappeared without a trace and often we wondered what had happened to them. Where their graves might be and even if they had been buried on the land surrounding the house? We thought, for some reason, knowing the answers would give some explanation as to why "strange things" happened in it.

For the most part these "strange things" were subtle, but sparked our curiosity enough to begin some research. Mostly, we would hear the sounds of footsteps walking in the rooms upstairs, yet no one was up there and sometimes it would feel as if someone was watching you, it was just a feeling, but each of us had experienced it at one time or another.

We began at the historical center the day Matt's parents went on vacation. Two days into it and we still had hardly any information. We did find a photograph of Ebenezer and we learned the Albotts were known as a family of mystery, they kept to themselves and were secretive about the "mysteries" or rather tragedies relating to their children.

There were 5 born to the Albotts, but only two lived past the age of five, a boy and a girl, who both left the home in their mid-teens, with no further recorded contact. As for the other siblings, there were two girls and one boy. One of girls died at the age of three months, the other at 1 1/2 and the boy at age five. The facts regarding the death of each child were inconclusive.

At the end of each day, we would return to Matt's house and discuss the day's events. At that time, we also started to notice that the "strange " activity in the house heightened. The lights and TV started turning on and off at random, and the air in many rooms felt heavy, almost ominous, so much so it made us afraid to enter.


Taking heed to this, we desperately wanted to find the answers to our questions. The increase in "activity" made us think we were getting close to something. That is what brought to the point of physically checking the local graveyards. We thought we might come across some clues if we found their graves, but we didn't find even one gravestone that belonged to the Albott family. The day was coming to an end, so we decided to head back to Matt's to settle down for the night. We were all tired and it was the fourth of July, so we wanted to enjoy what was left of it.

When we pulled up to Matt's house we noticed the light in the attic was on, and the blind to window was moved or bent as if someone had been peering out. Yet, that particular window was blocked with boxes and assorted furnishings, not to mention no one was suppose to be home!

We had thought about calling the police, but in spite of the recent events we decide to enter and check it out first, nothing like this had happened before, so we were a little shaken.

We moved cautiously inside, the air had that heavy feeling. We stuck closely together and move forward, but stopped short in our tracks when a gust of chilly wind hit us. We turned towards its direction, and there stood a man! We all had the same thought. "EBENEZER!!" Suddenly a crash came from the kitchen. The silverware drawer had come out of its place and landed on the floor! Quickly, we glanced back to where the man stood but he was gone! We looked about, but he was no where in sight. He couldn't have gone past us or left the room so swiftly that we wouldn't have seen him. It was as if he disappeared.

That was the finally straw, we were completely scared out of wits. We ran outside as fast as we could and after catching our breath, we talked about what we had seen. We all believed the "man" strongly resembled the picture we had found of Ebenezer. If it really was him, did he appear because he wanted to keep his and his families lives private? For some reason that made sense to us, the house for the most part had been peaceful, it was only when we attempted to look into the Albotts past that the events became overwhelming.

We remained outside for most of the night, but eventually re-entered the house and all seemed calm, but we sat side by side in the living room, afraid to venture further. We decided that night to end our research and we chose to keep the events to ourselves. Matt never told his parents. Why worry them, he thought, and by the time they returned everything had quieted back down.

That Fourth of July was definitely the most bizarre encounter we have ever had and although at times, you can still hear footsteps and occasionally it feels as if someone is watching, the energy in the house is a positive one. The awkward heavy feeling and chilly wind have not returned, nor has Ebenezer. I suppose you can say we've all learned to accept one another's presence. I do wonder, though, if Ebenezer will appear again. I guess only time will tell.













When I was very little my mother and father built a home on the piece of land they had bought. My mother's brother, who was carpenter, helped them and they were the only ones who worked on it. How they managed to do it at that time I will never understand as it was during the depression, but do it they did.

The house wasn't finished when we moved into it. I remember sleeping on the mohair couch in the small room by the front door; while my sister had the luxury of her own iron bed in the next room, which would later be the parlor once the upstairs was finished.

Changes were made gradually, the wood stove being replaced when a coal furnace was finally installed and the icebox eventually superseded by a refrigerator. (You probably don't remember those old iceboxes, but if you forgot to empty the pan underneath before going to bed, the whole floor would be wet when you woke up!}

Great pride was taken in all they did. I remember how hard they worked together upstairs. First with plastering the walls, then my father sanding the floors and my mother sanding and varnishing the all woodwork. When we would come home from church on Sunday mornings my father would often say, "Look at the nice little house I built for my girls. I hope you will be happy in it."

Unfortunately, my father only had ten years to enjoy the fruits of his labor before he passed away. My mother, however, lived in the house for over forty years after his death. She kept the house up beautifully as she was handy at just about anything. Small repairs, painting, upholstering her furniture, whatever, she did it.

When my daughters or I brought friends with us on our visits, she would always give them a tour of the house. Thus her pride in it continued.

Eventually, she also became ill and came to stay at my home, as she needed constant care. If she had to go out for a doctors appointment, I would bring her back to her house so she could check on it, but mainly so that she could spend time there sitting in her chair and enjoying her home. Then, one day when we stopped at the house, she walked slowly up the front steps and stood staring for a few minutes and said, "Well, my nice little house, I think this is the last time I will see you."

Feeling sorry for her and a little guilty, I said, "Mom we can come anytime you want to, just say so." But, she was right. She passed away shortly after.

Upon her death, the house came to me. As I lived and worked in another town, I decided to rent it. I soon found tenants and that's when things began to happen. I received calls from them complaining that the furnace wasn't working and that the house was always too hot. I had just replaced the furnace, so I wondered how could this be. I went to the house to check it and found they were using a bag of frozen vegetables on the thermostat. Apparently, it was the only way to keep the place cool.

Naturally, I had the furnace checked, but they found nothing wrong with it. The next time I received a call from the tenants complaining about the furnace, they said there was a draft coming from somewhere on the top floor, as there was a cold spot on the stairway. "Cold Spot?" I thought to myself. "I know the windows are tight." To satisfy them I walked up the stairs. On the fourth step from the top I stopped. It was freezing! It was a chill to the bone, a goose pimpling, hair raising cold spot. I couldn't explain it and since I couldn't correct the situation, the tenants soon moved out. When I told my family what had happened, they simply said, "it's just memere, she doesn't want strangers in her house."

Sometime later, one of my daughters was looking for a new residence and asked if she could move into the house. I reminded her of the happenings there and she answered, "that's ok. Memere won't mind my being in the house." So that was that.

I have visited the house many times since my daughter moved there. The furnace works just fine and none of them have ever felt a cold spot anywhere. This has led our whole family to believe that somehow my mother is still close by, and defiantly a permanent resident in her "nice little house."











Lydia was only about 14 at the time. She and my Aunt Jessie had a very special relationship. It was a true friendship. My Aunt Jessie would often give Lydia little gifts; she was kind that way to all of us, but with Lydia she would share things that had a special meaning to her as well. Usually things like pictures or books she had read, but one Saturday she decided to give Lydia her favorite sweater. To most, it probably wasn't much, but Aunt Jessie wore that sweater all the time, so to Lydia it meant the world.

On the Sunday following, my mother and father went into town and Lydia was left at home with some choirs to do, including the laundry. She didn't mind, because she was going to wash the sweater Aunt Jessie gave her, so she could wear it to school on Monday.

Lydia hung the sweater on the clothesline with the rest of the laundry to dry. As the afternoon passed, she went out to check on it, but as she approached, a whirlwind suddenly came up. We lived in the mid-west, so that was not uncommon, but strangely enough the windstorm caught the sweater, took it off the line and as my sister watched, it carrier the sweater down the street to my Aunt Jessie's house, where it landed.

At this time, my Mother and father we were returning home. Lydia explained to them how the whirlwind had taken the sweater off the line and brought it all the way to Aunt Jessie house. My parents thought it odd, since the rest of the laundry was still there, but they walked to Aunt Jessie's house and upon the roof, there the sweater lay.

They knocked on my Aunt's door to tell her what had happened, but there was no answer. They were sure she would be home since most afternoons she would nap. After a few tries, they entered.

When they found my Aunt Jessie, they found she had died in her sleep.



© Melt Magazine 2001