There are some things in this world
that just can't be explained.
There are plenty of theories
and partial explanations
and scientific reasoning
behind eerie events,
but nothing to explain
"The Visitor".
My youngest daughter Becca is
usually very level-headed,
independent,
and strong.
There isn't much that
can phase her or
cause her imagination
to flare up.
That's why on one particular night,
I believed her outlandish story.
It was a typical night.
The three kids were all tucked in.
My husband and I were
sleeping soundly-
when all of a sudden,
Becca slides in bed next to me,
hyperventilating, sobbing,
shaking, and unable
to talk at all.
"What's wrong?" I asked,
pulling her under the blankets
with me.
Her voice was broken at first-
interrupted by heavy breaths,
but finally she spoke well enough
that I could understand
why she was so upset.
" There's... a ..man in- the- hall..way,"
she whispered in terror. "I've been...
laying in my room---for---an hour--
waiting for ...him...to leave. He just
went----- into-- Jake's room."
Goosebumps rose on my skin.
The hair stood up on my neck.
But my motherly instinct kicked in.
"Honey!"I cried, shaking my husband awake,
"I think someone's in the house!"
He awoke slowly, heard the story,
and blamed it on a bad dream.
"All the doors and windows are locked",
he assured us." Go back to bed."
The seconds ticked by slowly.
What if there was someone here
and he was standing over my son's bed
and danger was imminent?
Well, you know how you sometimes
talk to the people in scary movies
and tell them they are retarded for
going down in that dark cellar
or taking a walk through the haunted woods?
No one was there to tell me that.
I got out of bed
and forced Becca to follow me
through the entire house-
turning on every light possible.
All the kids were fine.
All the doors were locked
and chain locked.
All the windows were locked.
Nothing was disturbed.
I turned the porch lights on.
No one was there.
Nothing was out of place.
I know in my heart that Becca
wasn't sleep walking
or having a nightmare.
What she saw was real to her
and utterly horrifying to me.
The next night I told the kids
that I was going to sprinkle
baby powder on the wood floor
of the hallway.
That way- if there really was a man-
or ghost- or whatever-
we would see his tracks
the next morning.
There was none.
And they all slept better after that.
But every once in awhile,
I'll awake at night
and imagine I hear footsteps
in the hallway.
I just cover my head-
hyperventilate, sob,
and shiver-
and hope the visitor
won't stay long.
