About a month after that night when Vinnie let me in on his family secret, he and I were again returning from a week long trip. He unlocked the front door and we went in. We dropped our jackets and bags on the table as we headed for the kitchen. Without warning, a muffled whirring sound began upstairs. Vinnie stopped, cocking his head toward the sound with an irritated look on his face. He turned on his heel and went up the stairs. The sound died away. A moment later he returned, brushing past me into the kitchen. I figured that unless I asked, he wasn't going to volunteer what the noise was. "What was that?" I asked. He sighed impatiently. "The blow dryer. When I've been gone for a while, this starts up. Well, sometimes. You watch--I'll bet it comes back on again. Once it starts, it usually does it over and over." Sure enough, in only a few more minutes, we heard the same sound again. Vinnie said, "Niki, would you go up and turn that off? It's playing games and I don't want to play." OK, since it was Vinnie who was asking, I'd do it. But I was very jumpy as I climbed those stairs. I swallowed hard. OK, deep breaths, Niki. Deep breaths. When I got to the guest bathroom, I found the blow dryer propped in it's stand, blasting away. It was the kind that had two power controls--one for the air flow (off, lo, hi) and one for the temperature(off, cool, hot). I pushed both to "off/off" and went back downstairs. A few minutes later, it started again. Vinnie looked at me, "See what I mean? Would you please, again?" This time, when I went into the bathroom, I knew for a fact that the blow dryer's controls had both been turned to off. I'd done it myself. Now the controls were set to "hi/hot." Goosebumps rushed over me. I flipped the controls to "off/off" again and pulled the plug from the wall. I found this seriously creepy. But, I didn't want to let the whatever-it-was know how much this bothered me, so I made a stab at sounding brave. "Oh, yeah. I'm real impressed. The next thing you know, you'll be slamming doors." Immediately one of the bedroom doors banged shut. I almost jumped out of my skin. I was scared--and I was angry that I was scared. I snapped, then marched down the stairs. I bet it had a good laugh over that. I guess that the door could have closed simply from the draft of an open window, or something similar--but it was just so "on cue." Vinnie and I hadn't eaten anything since the night before and we were pretty hungry. There was only one can of Coke in the fridge, and a quick inventory of the cabinets revealed 1 pouch of instant turkey gravy, 1 package of saltines and a can of condensed split-pea soup. Oh, goody. We shared the Coke. I asked Vinnie what he'd rather have: the turkey gravy or the (retch!) pea soup. He had his back to me, as he climbed up onto the counter. He looked way in the back of the cabinet for the stale Halloween candy. "I'll take the soup," he answered. "Cool," I said, "'Cause I hate split-pea. That stuff is nasty." He hopped down, with a big plastic mixing bowl in his hand. Down in the bottom were a couple of dozen rock-hard caramels, wrapped in dusty plastic. I busied myself with the "microwave preparation" instructions on the gravy pouch. After waiting for the "ding," I sat at the table, stirring the steamy brown lumps in my bowl. I poked a cracker in and blew on it. The can opener whirred. Vinnie spooned a green blob into his mouth. I shuddered. "E-eww-w! That's sick, Vinnie. Aren't you gonna heat it up?" "Why? It's just crushed peas, Niki," he said. I was about to say something back, when his look caught me. The familiar features were all the same and yet--not. His gaze was unwavering. His lips wore a Mona Lisa smile. For a moment I was struck still, the gravy dripping from the cracker in my hand. A wave of gooseflesh swept from my scalp to my feet. Were my eyes playing tricks? I looked down into my bowl and worked the spoon round and round. I could feel those eyes on me. I raised my head. The blue of his eyes seemed different, deeper. The pupils were piercing, dark. The memory of those hateful eyes that I'd pictured the night that I'd been under psychic attack down in the den flashed into my mind. I realized, with amazement that I was suddenly afraid--afraid of what was in front of me. That was not my Vinnie. Oh, it was his body, but the face was like a mask. There was something else looking out at me from behind those eyes. He did not blink or look away. Spoonful after spoonful was eaten, until the entire can was empty. The can was then tossed into the wastebasket. When he turned back to me again, to my relief, he seemed the same as he'd always been. Well, that's pretty much all that I have for you tonight. I'll post more in a day or two, because there's more to the story. Oh, and here's the other thing that convinced me that I wasn't just imagining those changes in Vinnie, that I believe come from him being briefly taken over by the entity: several nights later, in conversation, I made a comment about how much he liked pea soup. He said, "Pea soup? I hate pea soup. I wouldn't eat that stuff if I was starving to death." I said, "But you did, too. Just the other night, when we came back from the mountains, you ate cold pea soup right out of the can." He told me, "You're wrong. Number one, I would not eat pea soup, no matter what. Number two, eating it cold would make me puke. The only reason that it's here in the house is because my dad eats it. I didn't eat anything that night we got back fom the mountains." And, to this day, he has no recollection of ever eating anything that night, even though he remembers the night quite well.
You can join Unsolved Mysteries and post your own mysteries or
interesting stories for the world to read and respond to Click hereScroll all the way down to read replies.Show all stories by Author: 937 ( Click here )
Spring is coming |
