by Lori

This is a true story I wrote for last year’s Halloween blog. Be sure to read the new Postscript.

The church I attend meets in a wooden building that is about 60 years old. By the standards of the area, this is an ancient structure. It is a pleasant building in the day time— well-kept and conservative. When it is full of people, it is a cheerful place, as it should be.

However, at night, after the congregation has gone home and the lights are extinguished, the building sits in darkness, its bell tower and spire looming over the neighborhood. Several people have told me that they have seen the lights flipping on and off as they’ve driven by at night. Of course, this could simply be our pastor who comes and goes at all hours. Also, lots of people have keys to the place and being volunteers they work on their various projects and ministries whenever they can, including after dark. So it wouldn’t seem strange for lights to be flipping on and off at night.

Several people have told me they have heard all sorts of odd sounds in the building. Well, wooden structures creak, pop and thump with the temperature changes. Also, in the winter, when the steam is turned on, the pipes rattle and shimmy. Finally, the noises could be raccoons, possums and pigeons banging around in the walls of the church.

So you see, everything can be explained.

I’m one of those volunteers who sometimes works alone in the building, and for some reason I avoid going up to the sanctuary by myself. For reasons I can’t explain, I always have an odd feeling that I’m being watched particularly from the balcony. I keep looking over my shoulder. Perhaps I’m just remembering the story I had heard of the homeless man who broke in a few years ago and slept in the pews at night. One night, this homeless man leaped up and scared the pants off the pastor when he was discovered. Maybe that’s what I’m remembering.

Oh, did I mention that I am never, ever go up there alone at night. Ever.

One day, in late afternoon, just as darkness was falling, I was in the basement of the church, setting up for a meeting. I was alone. In the basement, I don’t get that same feeling of being watched–that feeling that someone else is there when they aren’t. So I was fine, happily setting out chairs and getting ready for the others who would be coming in another half hour.

A few minutes later, however, to my chagrin, I discovered that the laptop computer which I needed for the meeting was not downstairs. It was upstairs, in the sanctuary where I never, ever go alone at night.

I hesitated for a moment but then realized how incredibly stupid and silly I was acting. So I took a breath and charged upstairs. I hurried through the sanctuary, fumbled with my keys to open the appropriate doors as quickly as I could, grabbed the laptop and scampered back down to safety of the basement. See, silly, there’s no one up there, I told myself.

I placed the laptop on the table and continued to prepare for the meeting. I was there for just a little less than a minute when I heard a noise. I froze and caught my breath. Slowly I looked up at the ceiling. I heard the floor boards creaking above me as if someone was walking through the sanctuary. There were only a few steps, but they sounded like they were moving down the central aisle from the platform towards the narthex. Only a few steps. Then, nothing.

I felt my skin goose and the hair on my arms stand up. I had just been up there in the sanctuary. There had been no one up there! There were no other cars in the lot, and even if there were, no one would be coming in the upstairs doors-they would come in the downstairs entrance for the meeting. There should be no one up there.

Just as I was about ready to leave and wait in the parking lot, I heard a car door slam. To my relief, another committee member had arrived. When he came in I asked him if he had seen anyone leaving through the upstairs exits. He hadn’t. I was going to mention the noise but suddenly I began to feel silly and embarrassed again, and decided I wouldn’t mention it.

It’s just the physics of an old building I told myself.

But to this day, I will not go upstairs by myself. Never, ever, and certainly not at night.

Lori Gloyd (c) 2006, 2007

————————

Post Script: Our youth pastor read this to our youth group last year and I was told later that every one of the kids was spell-bound as the story unfolded. Now that was truly a compliment………

And, just two weeks ago, a bunch of us were chatting in the parking lot. One of our group pointed to a window on the top floor of the main building and noted that the light was on in storage room where the Easter and Advent decorations were kept. No one ever goes into that room except in Spring and December. This was August. I quipped that it might be the ghost. Funny, no one laughed.