House of Darkness House of Light: The True Story Volume Two

By Andrea Perron

Roger and Carolyn Perron purchased the home of their dreams and eventual nightmares in December of 1970. The Arnold Estate, located just beyond the village of Harrisville, Rhode Island seemed the idyllic setting in which to raise a family. The couple unwittingly moved their five young daughters into the ancient and mysterious farmhouse. Secrets were kept and then revealed within a space shared by mortal and immortal alike. Time suddenly became irrelevant; fractured by spirits making their presence known then dispersing into the ether. The house is a portal to the past and a passage to the future. This is a sacred story of spiritual enlightenment, told some thirty years hence. The family is now somewhat less reticent to divulge a closely-guarded experience. Their odyssey is chronicled by the eldest sibling and is an unabridged account of a supernatural excursion. Ed and Lorraine Warren investigated this haunting in a futile attempt to intervene on their behalf. They consider the Perron family saga to be one of the most compelling and significant of a famously ghost-storied career as paranormal researchers. During a sance gone horribly wrong, they unleashed an unholy hostess; the spirit called Bathshebaa God-forsaken soul. Perceiving herself to be the mistress of the house, she did not appreciate the competition. Carolyn had long been under siege; overt threats issued in the form of firea mothers greatest fear. It transformed the woman in unimaginable ways. After nearly a decade the family left a once beloved home behind though it will never leave them, as each remains haunted by a memory. This tale is an inspiring testament to the resilience of the human spirit on a pathway of discovery: an eternal journey for the living and the dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481712361

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© 2013 by Andrea Perron. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   02/20/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-1238-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-1237-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-1236-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011903407

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Volume Two

Metamorphosis

V. GHOSTLY CRIES AND WHISPERS

*   secrets and lies

*   make yourself at home

*   comes and goes

*   timely manners

*   for crying out loud

*   rearing its ugly head

*   history

*   all fun and games until someone gets hurt

*   insight

*   listen up in smoke

*   staking a claim

*   making matters worse

*   in the closet

*   poetry and prose

*   chants and incantations

VI. DOWN THE HATCH

*   ye olde cellar hole

*   beneath the bell stone

*   the big dig

*   eureka!

*   a sense of direction

*   fountain of youth

*   release the hounds!

*   knocked back

*   buyer’s remorse

*   black hole

*   dead in the water

*   all’s well that ends well

*   holy hell

*   leave well enough alone

*   teardrops

*   a woman’s touch will get a man’s attention

*  tug of war

VII. WARREN PEACE

*   inquest

*   divine intervention

*   promises… promises

*   tempting fate

*   twilight

*   hippies, freaks and misfits

*   blessings and curses

*   darkest before the dawn

*   death becomes her

*   inner sanctum

*   fear the living… not the dead

*   continuum

*   eye of the beholder

*   a little knowledge

*   all things considered

*   more harm than good

*   wrack and ruin

*   this too shall pass

VIII. BLESS ME FATHER

*   a turn for the worse

*   a wing and a prayer

*   all in good time

*   comfort zone

*   common sense

*   act of god

*   hallelujah

*   something sacred

*   guess who’s coming to dinner?

*   joy

*   leap of faith

*   doubt

*   abandon all hope ye who enter here

*   clearing the air

*   epiphany

*   the foreseeable future

*   amen

*   Transformation

For my Father

"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the ability

of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a

placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity,

and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences,

each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little;

but someday the piercing together of dissociated knowledge will

open up such terrifying vistas of reality,

and of our frightful position therein,

that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from

the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age."

H. P. Lovecraft

The Call of Cthulhu

House of Darkness ~ House of Light

The Trilogy

Prologue in Prayer

A Proper Introduction

I. A Place in the Country

*let there be light *frozen stiff *sounds of silence

*a matter of time *contact *a chill in the air

*creature discomforts *the devil’s pets *safety in numbers

*sword of Damocles *a very fine how do you do

*familiarity breeds contempt *cold as stone *dusk ’til dawn

II. Fire in the Hole

*bless this mess *close that door *smoke and mirrors

*spirit matters *scorched offerings *apple blossom time

*kiss of death *omens *from frying pan into the fire

*blue light special *an old torch carries a flame

*fire and brimstone *trial by fire *lady bug

*burnin’ down the house *feet to the fire *bats!

III. Wicked Woman… Evil Ways

*demon doors *knock knock knock *blown away

*Bathsheba *a stitch in time *from insult to injury

*is this the party to whom I am speaking? *a pain in the neck

*message received *twisted sister *solitary confinement

*as the crow flies *off the hook *no rest for the wicked

*sink or swim *a rude awakening *a fate worse than death

IV. Spooked

*going for a ride *bed knobs *broomsticks *boo! who?

*kindred spirits *clarion call *things that go bump in the day

*things that go bump in the night *reality *Baker boys

*go away little girls *told you so *bloodbath *shared space

Metamorphosis

V. Ghostly Cries and Whispers

*secrets and lies *make yourself at home *comes and goes

*timely manners *for crying out loud *rearing its ugly head

*history *all fun and games until someone gets hurt *insight

*listen up in smoke *staking a claim *making matters worse

*in the closet *poetry and prose *chants and incantations

VI. Down the Hatch

*ye olde cellar hole *beneath the bell stone *the big dig *eureka!

*a sense of direction *fountain of youth *release the hounds!

*knocked back *buyer’s remorse *black hole *dead in the water

*all’s well that ends well *holy hell *leave well enough alone

*teardrops *a woman’s touch will get a man’s attention *tug of war

VII. Warren Peace

*inquest *divine intervention *promises… promises

*tempting fate *twilight *hippies, freaks and misfits

*blessings and curses *darkest before the dawn *death becomes her

*inner sanctum *fear the living… not the dead *continuum

*eye of the beholder *a little knowledge *all things considered

*more harm than good *wrack and ruin *this too shall pass

VIII. Bless Me Father

*a turn for the worse *a wing and a prayer *all in good time

*comfort zone *common sense *act of god *hallelujah

*something sacred *guess who’s coming to dinner? *joy

*leap of faith *doubt *abandon all hope ye who enter here

*clearing the air *epiphany *the foreseeable future *amen

Transformation

IX. Rock On with your Bad Self

*elemental reflections *windsong *broken record

*pine forest portal *cracking up *season of the witch

*feel free *if these rocks could talk *good vibrations

*along came a spider *journey *wonders never cease

*to soothe the savage beast *perfect harmony *starlight

*a fish tale *harvest home *solitude *welcome home

*stairway to heaven *highway to hell *wisdom

X. A Fly on the Wall

*the new paranormal *right of way *go in peace

*rites of passage *terms of endearment *keep the faith

*manifest destiny *fond farewell *carpe diem *no turning back

*homecoming *what a relief *grand slam *smoke signals

*soul searching *master of his domain *escaping unscathed

*ancients and horribles *photographs and memories

*revisiting the past *touched by an angel *mistress of her domain

*darkness and light *to lift the spirits *truth be told

*long ago and far away *collective memoirs *revelation

Confluence

Epilogue in Epitaph

In Gratitude

The Little Ghost

I knew her for a little ghost

That in my garden walked;

The wall is high—higher than most—

And the green gate was locked.

And yet I did not think of that

Till after she was gone—

I knew her by the broad white hat,

All ruffled, she had on.

By the dear ruffles round her feet,

By her small hands that hung

In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,

Her gown’s white folds among.

I watched to see if she would stay,

What she would do, and oh!

She looked as if she liked the way

I let my garden grow!

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~ staking a claim to the garden spot ~

~ a chill in the air ~

4.jpg

She bent above my favourite mint

With conscious garden grace,

She smiled and smiled—there was no hint

Of sadness in her face.

She held her gown on either side

To let her slippers show,

And up the walk she went with pride,

The way great ladies go.

And where the wall is built in new

And is of ivy bare

She paused—then opened and passed through

A gate that once was there.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Renascence

FROM THE AUTHOR

With deepest gratitude, I welcome you to the next leg of our journey. Volume Two of House of Darkness House of Light is the continuation of a compelling saga which will take you elsewhere, backward and then forward in time to dark, dangerous places you would never suspect, into black holes where you may even see the Light. It will reveal elements of this haunting which strike at the heart and challenge any mortal mind. For those who have waited patiently, thank you. I hope it satisfies your curiosity and exceeds all expectations. Those unfamiliar with this story are well-advised to begin at the beginning with Volume One. Otherwise, it may seem fragmented and confounding to the reader, making frequent references to prior events of which you will be unaware.

Volume Two proceeds as the first book of the trilogy ended, with the segue Metamorphosis, as a reminder of lessons learned in an old school of hard knocks at the door. It is also a foreshadowing of events yet to be, where this memoir naturally came to rest along the path of this spiritual excursion. To those who have been here before, a warm welcome home. To those who remain strangers to this memoir, one stranger than fiction, I extend an invitation. May our often poignant and sometimes disturbing saga serve you well. Come, my brave and faithful traveling companions. Cross the bridge. Take my hand. There is nothing to fear but fear itself.

Ring the bell that still can ring… celestial school is now in session.

Yours in spirit ~ Andrea

METAMORPHOSIS

"How many of our daydreams would darken into nightmares,

were there a danger of their coming true!"

Logan Pearsall Smith

Natural conversion: a transforming of this into that in the space and time required, according to all established laws of Nature. How long does it take a leaf to decompose in autumn? What variables exist which could conceivably impact or alter this process? How to factor the elements into these equations? To every thing there is a season and a time for every purpose under Heaven. Beings in perpetual motion, ever-changing, (consciously or not), in death we change yet again, morphing into something else: perhaps as pure energy, soul and spirit dispersed into the Cosmos. Metamorphosis is not an event but is instead, an ongoing co-creative process which we remain actively involved in during every moment of our existence. We are; always have been, always will be, in some form or another. We evolve. Like it or not, we all learn. Best we come to terms with Infinity—and our own immortality: the biggest chill. Accept it and move on. Out across the Universe, transformed, evolving into ether, as spirit, traveling just beyond the speed of light.

No one could have predicted the outcome thus far; the consequences for mortal and immortal alike… bound together and bound to get worse before it got better. Something had drawn them to the home of their dreams, there to experience the nightmare of Reality. It was true. Whether being thrust across the threshold, pushed from behind, or dragged in from the cold to the colder, Carolyn felt compelled to dwell within its walls, her own sacred place in the country. As if the house itself functioned as a stern old schoolmarm ringing a brass bell, calling her students to class, it beckoned their assembly. Dutifully bringing everyone along, soon their classroom was full to overflowing, all of them present and accounted for, all there to learn their lessons well. Here! (Geography Lesson #1: On the existential map of life… we are here!) Even if one belligerent, non-compliant student had refused to acknowledge the fact that he, too, was in school, (frequently bunking classes he insisted did not exist), ultimately he would absorb the lessons by osmosis. Initially no one was open to instruction, unwilling to accept the formal education they had specifically come to receive, disenchanted with the format in which it was presented. In time, each one of them would learn to listen up! No syllabus provided for the complicated curriculum, it was confusing to interpret these messages, received all at once; impossible to determine exactly who these multiple personalities were, appearing as guest lecturers on the convoluted campus. Carolyn was, by far, the most studious among the mortals; the one who did the research: home/work. She paid attention in class, took notes, followed directions well, remained observant and kept a journal throughout the course as part of her reference materials, for use later in life. At times, it was utterly overwhelming, everybody teaching simultaneously, challenging seven students to discern who had something of importance to impart and who was present merely to disrupt their study! At times, the school/house appeared entirely vacant, eerily quiet. Pensive students worried, wondering which teacher may scare up next, floating into their classroom unannounced, at any given moment in time and space. Boo! Who? Peace and quiet was a welcome respite, reserved as a pause for reflection: a form of study hall. It is best to be prepared for class, as their tests always preceded their lessons. In retrospect, it was all important: relevant and intense… something sacred.

Some absorbed information with all five senses but relied upon the sixth. Others depended upon repetition to instill an intrinsic message they received. All teaching methodology requires an element of memorization skills, which qualifies as credit toward completion of the course with no final exam. The most eager student among them was also the one dismissed, culminating in a bizarre combination of detention and attempted expulsion: Punishment time. What? No apple for teacher? Something sweet picked from the Tree of Life? Graduating on to multitude levels of higher learning, their adversarial, rather unorthodox approach to education proved one certain to terrorize and inspire in equal measure, quite like Catholic school!

Enlightenment can be a very painful process. Observing it occur stings the eyes of reluctant beholders with imagery too harsh to perceive, far too disturbing to focus on until mortal eyes adjust to the sudden change of Light. There was a period of maladjustment for a family who got more than they bargained for when they paid in full for the farm Carolyn once described as the real estate deal of a lifetime. True enough. It was a real estate, her place in the country; centuries of history attached… and more. What dwelled within the walls of an ancient edifice was too real for her to abide and was, in fact, entirely surreal. At the time, had she known what was to come, Carolyn would have certainly abandoned the dream. There would be no turning away. The house would not allow her to leave. It had captured her spirit along with her heart. Perhaps it wanted her soul.

Soon enough others would arrive, offering to help. When Ed and Lorraine Warren caught an ill wind of the Perron family predicament, they visited the farm, expressing their sincere desire to be of assistance. Once they were involved it became apparent, Pandora had nothing on them. The psychic energy released by Lorraine, coupled with compassion Ed harbored for the children, created a whirlwind of supernatural activity no one could’ve imagined or predicted. They knew from the moment they crossed the threshold. Capable of seeing in the dark, well-trained eyes adjusted to the ethereal Light. They’d instantly recognized the true nature of those who lurked in the shadows, the ones who were a wonder to behold… the source of all enlightenment.

***

Fear not the farmhouse, for it is not to blame. It remains as it has always been, a finely constructed piece of architecture with a personality (or ten) all its own; hard to keep count. If one must fear anything, fear the unknown, as life and death are full of surprises. Fear the haunted woman who manifests in darkness of night then vanishes with the light of dawn. Fear a fate or destiny which calls its pilgrims home, only to petrify them. Fear the knowledge that mortals know nothing at all. Fear the living… not the dead.

Bound they were, mortal to immortal alike. Yeats proved to be correct. He described spirits as beings Insipid as the dough before it is baked and knew they change their bodies at a word. The poet knew Images can break the solitude of lovely, satisfied, indifferent eyes. He knew enough to tell us the truth of existence. It was not the end. It was only the beginning.

__________________________________

"The world is round and the place which may seem

like the end may also be only the beginning."

Ivy Baker Priest

~ House of Darkness ~ House of Light ~

5.jpg

"Everything is energy and that’s all there is to it.

Match the frequency

of the reality you want and you cannot help

but get that reality.

It can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics."

Darryl Anka

6.jpg

~ a mysterious barn dances with the wind ~

In that moment of trust, he and his experience are transformed. Looking around, he can see glimpses of that trust trying to rouse itself in the religions and sciences alike, but he understands that for all their merits institutions can speak only generally to any given individual, and that each man’s life involves him in a direct confrontation with the universe in which he must ultimately trust both his own nature and the unknown source which it springs. That greater source makes itself known through the living person in his living and his dying and speaks directly through his own nature. Only that trust can illuminate and make sense of the facts of the known world. It is ultimately impossible to trust God and distrust the self, and vice versa.

Jane Roberts

The Afterdeath Journal of An American Philosopher;

The View of William James

7.jpg

~ a sacred source of pure enlightenment ~

V.

GHOSTLY CRIES AND WHISPERS

"Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary the devil,

as a roaring lion, walketh about seeking whom he may devour."

Peter v. 8

Sensory perception is a wondrous gift of Nature. Those who listen to the whispers of spirit will be tenderly guided along, while those who deliberately provoke the dead know not what they may receive in response. It requires an inordinate amount of courage, coupled with morbid curiosity. There is such a thing as begging for trouble. It seems to obey any request, as if by command. The children had been forewarned. They’d been unwilling to listen to reason, to voices of authority; far more susceptible to absurd notions and suggestions made by friends. There would be consequences… for every action, a reaction: science as equation. Disobedient heathens get what they deserve. You asked for it, girls! There is an indistinguishable line between bravery and stupidity.

Be watchful. Be prudent. Be wise. Be gone!

***

Their odyssey began as a pronouncement; the sad, diminutive clarion call. In hushed and somber tones, this communication, disguised as wind and rain, cloaked by the creaking of old clapboard, infiltrated the senses of those who had entered unfamiliar territory. In the quiet darkness of night they’d listen to the farmhouse, its whistling coos or high-pitched whining, whenever an ill wind passed through the eaves, or so they had all presumed. The busy and rambunctious household was a distraction during their days but at night the house spoke of its story to newly arrived inhabitants. During their first few months in residence, there was so much buzz and extraneous activity, the dismissal of uncommon noises was the norm. An adjustment period was necessary and no one in the family trusted their own perceptions of this house. A new place—new noises mindset explained away virtually every strange and foreign sound. The house was so big in comparison to where they had come from that the tightly compact Cape Cod in Cumberland now seemed, (as a distant memory), something no bigger than a beach bungalow. Sound was magnified and distorted within the massive structure. It was an echo chamber. It had a heartbeat. The house had an energy and a voice all its own; several, in fact. The interplay of shadow and light intermingling with its natural/supernatural sound became mesmerizing; a source of wonderment. They had willingly crossed the threshold, entering into the shared space, one filled with secrets and souls. Into a mysterious portal they ventured, finding it hypnotic by nature, casting its enchanting spells on those dwelling within its clapboard walls. There was no escaping the effect it had on a family who could not help but listen up in smoke: Attention class! Mere mortals could not ignore the gauzy haze gathering in rooms, masquerading as moonlight. Cloud cover hovering in shadow dance, an elegant disguise, Nature provided a cloak for an esoteric element of itself… very clever camouflage.

Yet, there is no mistaking the cry of a child. Cindy would soon identify the face of the littlest ghost wailing for her mother. The moans seeping from deep within the eaves were, after some research, presumed to be the sick and pitiful sound made by Johnny Arnold, a man in the self-inflicted throes of a poisonous death. He suffered, departing life in excruciating pain; a haunting, desperate sound, as if he attempted to muffle his agony so to avoid detection. Was he unwilling to risk discovery before the deed was done?

Soon enough chanted incantations would begin. Whispered words, barely perceptible, over time became audibly intelligible. The distinctly articulated statements made no sense at all to the child suddenly struggling just to be a child, striving to grasp and interpret the cryptic pleas, to determine a source. Cynthia heard the call of seven dead soldiers buried in the wall. Come to me, little girl. Telepathic messages, conveyed within the sealed mind field of sound surrounding each recipient, altering their state-of-being. During these encounters, what Cynthia often describes as being in the bubble, all external activity was deflected as a spirit shielded itself, protected from any intrusion. It soon became apparent to five children listening with new ears, observing with new eyes… they were not alone. They were never alone and would not ever be again. Such disturbing interludes were enlightening in this respect.

Carolyn saw the little girl, dressed up in her green velvet finery, what she would later describe as the child’s burial outfit. A tiny cherub chanting with cohorts was seemingly oblivious to the terrified woman being targeted: Will drive ye out with fiery broom . . . will drive ye mad with death and gloom: their unholy chapter and verse… perhaps not so benign, after all. Footsteps in stairwells or whispers from walls, mournful cries of a child, the incantation of a crowd of souls resembling a coven of witches or the soft, soulful whine of a distant bugle—these were but a few of the distinctly disquieting sounds which they heard incessantly. Sensory perception is a gift, though as much a curse as a blessing… as a balancing act of God.

Supernatural/psychic sound was not relegated to the farmhouse. Giggling spirits at play in the pine forest became an equally common occurrence, as if they assumed it was safe to reveal themselves in the presence of others their own age. Had they always been there? Was it something about these children which allowed their mortal eyes the ability to see all there was to behold? A heightened sensitivity developed, undoubtedly due to over-exposure. They lived among dead people. It was something none of them could ever afford to forget, not for an instant, to be on the safe side but there was no safe side. Anyone could see anything at anytime. Family pets often responded to things their humans could not see or hear, frequently alerting them to any pending manifestation. Accused of being alarmist by nature in the beginning, the dogs proved consistently reliable; keen senses quite telling. The self-doubt of mere mortals would dissipate with time. After awhile they did believe their eyes. The animals knew it all along, from the moment they arrived, precisely why they refused to cross the threshold. The sounds of silence came always with a message. Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again, because a vision softly creeping left its seed while I was sleeping, and the vision that was planted in my brain still remains… the sounds of silence. Everyone was beginning to understand. It was not the wind. It was not the rain. It was something else entirely, perhaps something wicked. Either they would have to find their way or forge a new path on this intrepid journey through another dimension while dwelling with the dead in a portal cleverly disguised as a farmhouse.

Opposing forces were about to engage in a ferocious battle as adversaries waging war within the dark confines of the borning room, against the evil in an old house. Disobedient heathens would be severely tested, admonished for the deliberate splicing of dimensions. Foolishly doing so would mean taking a terrible risk as antagonists exploring treacherous boundaries of an inherently inconceivable realm. Overtly provocative behavior functioned as the clarion call, the command to be obeyed, essentially calling on all enemy combatants: for every action… a reaction. The children had no concept of the consequences, no idea of the power they were about to unleash as warnings went unheeded. It was destined to become a test of wills. Inviting disasters into their home, stupid girls got what they deserved. The ultimate wake-up call to arms, Cindy would be forced to fight for her own life in the darkness. Indistinguishable is the fine line between brave and stupid, and they brazenly crossed it. Hubris found in one so young, Cynthia was certain she’d identify then banish what had haunted them, day and night, for years. So confident and prideful in her assertion, the child arranged a get-together from the ages, for the ages. Her anger manifested as arrogance, pride as over-confidence. A mere waif decided to take on a demon in their midst. Everyone else thought that was somehow a good idea! Be watchful, girls. Be sober and be vigilant. Lessons learned the hard way. Mother always said: all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Best they brought the white flag along for their wild ride across the cosmos. This was not philosophy. It was physics.

_____________________________________

"The conflict of forces and the struggle of opposing wills

are of the essence of our Universe and alone hold it together."

Havelock Ellis

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~ a room with a view of the universe ~

secrets and lies

"If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not

blame the wind for revealing them to the trees."

Kahlil Gibran

Keeping secrets from each other, lies as sins of omission, was contrary to any previous behavior displayed by these siblings. Things had changed. Prior to moving to the farmhouse, these children always shared everything with each other, from triumph to tragedy. Nothing was off-limits in a discussion, even if the conversation was kept as temporary secrets between sisters. All of them knew how trustworthy their mother was and they would confide in her with ease; no fear of retribution. Eventually, Carolyn would be made privy to any and all significant events in their lives. Then she’d consider it, deciding if it was something serious enough to warrant their father’s attention or his intervention, often strictly handled on a need-to-know basis. If it was an issue she could resolve without him, Carolyn did so, simply to keep things peaceful and quiet. Never one of those you just wait until your father gets home mothers; she preferred to settle disputes on her own. Roger’s tendency to overreaction was something to avoid, so, if a minor incident happened there was no need to involve him. That is, unless he asked, in which case she was always honest with her husband; a hard fact that would become a major point of contention between this troubled couple. Carolyn took profound exception to his overt disregard for her opinions and blatant skepticism he’d express in reaction to her descriptions of the supernatural activity, experiences occurring all around them. It was insulting and offensive. She’d never given Roger any reason to doubt her voracity.

All family dynamics evolve over time. This is a given. Children grow up. Even adults mature with age. As deep and abiding bonds alter, relationships change: love deepens or chasms widen. The family functioned relatively well until the move to a place in the country. Thus began an inevitable breakdown in communication. As the girls were exposed to the supernatural phenomena, they withheld information as a matter of course and did not share sightings with one another for quite some time. Truth be told, they did not trust their own perceptions; no need to disclose what each could not believe she’d seen. It created a covert atmosphere, a deceptive mindset among five siblings in an environment where everyone present was keeping the same secret.

When the floodgates of hell burst open and the deluge began, the sense of relief was palpable amongst the group of girls who really had something to talk about! When the eldest divulged her concerns to the mother in a crisis of her own, it actually eased much of the low-level angst present in the house, effectively clearing the air of an oppressive and omnipresent fear. The secret was out. A comparative analysis of episodes proved beneficial for all those questioning their senses and, to some extent, sanity. As a rule, honesty is the best policy. Yet, when the father and husband, the one relied upon to protect and defend his family against all enemies, foreign and domestic, does not believe a threat exists, it makes for a rather convoluted report up the chain of command. Sometimes it requires bypassing the general entirely. Good God. Seeking assistance, they were forced to go right to the top.

For all practical purposes, their secrets, lies as sins of omission, served to provide sufficient time to process events as they happened, to emotionally and intellectually absorb what had just transpired. By necessity, a brief but imperative pause for reflection accompanied every event. Keeping it private seemed the only thing to do. No one knew how to initiate such an absurd conversation, where to begin. Cindy uttered as holy words: There are seven dead soldiers. As encounters continued to accumulate, there came a gradual recognition, awareness that they were dwelling within a cosmic laboratory, in a living museum, an unusual place among a decidedly eclectic, often eccentric group of spirits who, for some reason or another, never left. As months became years, the unusual became rather commonplace, to such an extent, many ethereal encounters were barely even mentioned in passing, if discussed at all. There was no need. Everyone knew the drill. Natural: no longer so Super / natural. Manifestations became an ordinary part of life; the new paranormal. Seven mortals touched and were touched by immortality, traversing the spectrum from keeping the secrets to telling the tales, in some cases, thirty years hence. One important lesson was learned: all is revealed in its right and proper time. The Universe cannot keep a secret.

________________________________

"In the long run, there are no secrets in science.

The universe will not cooperate in a cover-up."

Arthur C. Clarke

make yourself at home

"Where we love is home—home that our feet may leave,

but not our hearts."

Oliver Wendell Holmes

It is often said that hospitality is making your guests feel at home, even if you wish they were at home. The Arnold Estate was packed to the rafters and eaves and nobody seemed able to determine who was the guest or the tenant. Animosity was bound to brew as both camps outstayed their welcome. Even if they were a family, enough was enough. Carolyn wanted the house cleared out, cleansed of the presence that meant her harm. The trouble was two-fold: everyone present was home! These spirits had no place to go, or they would have gone long ago. Obviously, it was their home first. Retaining ownership as former (and current) inhabitants, claiming the space as their own, certainly complicated matters. As the presumed mortal mistress of the house, Carolyn wanted to stake her claim and was prohibited from doing so as a struggle of wills ensued. Eventually she would succumb in battle, losing the war.

Mr. Kenyon used the common phrase, ushering the Perron family through the doorway, inviting them across his threshold, having already chosen this clan as his successor to this estate. Difficult to interpret who really belonged there, in actuality, the house was pre-occupied long before they arrived. To those crossing into strangely familiar yet uncharted territory, it felt more like welcome home than make yourself at home to those who sensed a vague permanence about this home place, right from the inception. There was no explaining how the children knew their way around when Mr. Kenyon gifted them with his unfettered access to the property. The grounds were enticing enough but it was as if the barn had called to them, as did the grand old apple tree, stone walls and a woodshed. Andrea had been put in charge of counting heads, a task she’d abruptly abandoned. No point in trying to keep up with everybody, as no one was going far and each knew where she was going. It was obvious. Theirs was an inexplicable mission of rediscovery. Though no one mentioned it that day, it has since been a topic of conversation within the family… for decades. Why did it feel so strange yet so familiar? Why did the sights and sounds and smells of the place seem lodged so far back in their collective consciousness? It was an ancient memory, a sensation shared by all and it remains a mystery yet to be solved.

There was no arguing or bartering for rooms. Every one of the girls knew where they would eventually settle and on the day they moved in, there was no need to assign a space. Each child took her belongings to the room where she was destined to dwell for the next ten years of her life. No discussion. No complaints. The space occupied was where each belonged, where every child had lessons to learn from the messages received. It was no coincidence Cynthia gravitated to the middle bedroom upstairs, the most active spot on the second floor. It was located directly above the room Carolyn chose to share with her husband. He agreed it was the perfect place for them without saying a word. The house itself assigned the lodging, or so it seemed. Beds were assembled well before the truck was emptied and furnishings appeared sparse in comparison to where they had come from, but all made the most of the move. Roger did as Mr. Kenyon had suggested… he left the lights on at night. A solitary lamp in the dining room illuminated the path through the center of the house, yet the light was all but swallowed by the surrounding darkness, requiring more light from the kitchen to navigate the structure safely. The shadows cast were not spooky but beautiful, the wallpaper often bathing by moonlight, being the natural images of a supernatural portal, so cleverly disguised as a farmhouse, as magical as mysterious.

During the following decade many friends and family members would be warmly welcomed into the home, there to see the Light. It was odd how the spirits would pick and choose who to contact whenever they’d come to call. Fran and Eddy always created a ruckus with their presence, while Tim and Ray saw nothing unusual, in spite of so much time spent on the premises. There was no explaining it. When the house came alive with death, a blatant display of what was there all the time, some visitors were terrified and never returned while others were especially anxious to revisit the farmhouse with a personality or ten all its own. Apparently beckoning the souls with a history, some connection to it, others were profoundly and permanently turned away, rejected, never invited to return. Holly felt embraced by it while Lori ran for her life! Freddy felt threatened. Fran was impaled by blue light. Katy, queen of denial, made matters worse. Lenora’s time was too brief but she loved it there and longed to return. Perhaps she has…

In time, Carolyn would come to know a sense of homelessness within her own walls. She eventually lost her will to fight on, unwilling to struggle for a place that rejected her on every front. It was a test of wills, conflict from the start. It had taken all the strength she possessed to battle her way back to her family. For all she’d lost, Carolyn found a new understanding of peace in the midst of war. Up went the white flag. Surrender, Carolyn. It became a battle to the death of her belief system. She was forced to call upon a higher power. Lo! And behold came her answer, the merciful savior who always intervened on their behalf. God help me crossed her lips spontaneously in times of crisis but the answer was far more significant than the question implicit to the plea. Is someone there? Yes. Listening, watching and coming. She was not alone.

In spite of assistance received, this ongoing skirmish drained the woman of energy and enthusiasm, effectively killing Carolyn’s spirit of adventure on a farm she once found enchanting. It became a noose around her neck which strangled any love she felt for a place at first adored. What she still perceives as a nightmare and a burden lingers as love lost in the minds of her children. It will always be home for those who continue mourning its loss. None of them were born there, at least not this time around, yet a connection remains strong more than thirty years after their departure. They often return there in a dreamscape which captures their imaginations after dark. Roger never fails to note his regrets when the subject comes up. All but Carolyn and Christine have gone back to walk the land and see the farmhouse now restored to its Colonial splendor, as a true original. Neither of them can bear to revisit the past yet their past will never leave any of the family behind for as long as they live, and so it is. ’Tis true, there’s no place like home… no need to click their heels. They need only close their eyes. No matter where they go, there they are, in a memory, a scent or a song; in a moment of recognition. Here they are, omnipresent… like God.

______________________________

"May the roof above us never fall in and may

we good companions beneath it never fall out."

Irish Blessing

comes and goes

"The woman’s like the night, she comes and goes /

She breaks my heart each day and never knows /

And the time I spend in sorrow

will match the time I live /

And the time that’s left is all I have to give."

Dan Fogelberg

Andrea came home with another new love in tow, nothing too unusual. Dan Fogelberg, not the man but his music, tucked securely beneath her arm, in a loving embrace. The album had been opened and placed on the turntable moments after she entered the parlor. Of course, as was her nature, she had happily shared Dan with her family. Let there be volume! Surely these picky spirits would not object or tamper with the stereo. This music was beautiful, even spiritual. Carolyn was moved by what she had heard, what had enticed her through the house, that is, until one song struck a chord of discontent. As she listened to lyrics which described her situation, it pained her, evoking many not-so-distant memories of nights spent in abject terror while a solitary entity provoked then threatened her. Seemingly coming and going in mere moments, yet there for eternity, all of their spirits seemed to travel like the wind but nobody had been fooled. There was an omnipresence about them which could not be denied and could only be described as a feeling but there was nothing out-of-sight-out-of-mind about them. Did they come and go as they pleased? Or was their circumstance quite the opposite, perhaps a fate worse than death? Impaired sense of direction? Were they already home?

"The woman’s like an ivy on a pole / She wraps her twisted love

around my soul / There will come a sudden

winter when she’ll seek

the warmth of day / And there’ll come a time when

she will come to stay."

That is precisely what Carolyn was afraid of, that she would come to stay, essentially moving in on a mother of five, there to reclaim her position as the mistress of the house. By this time, Carolyn had been hobbled and humbled by pain of all sorts and the weakness she could not fight off was draining her of mortal energy. Standing silently in the corner of the parlor, lowering her head, sudden darkness overcame a lighthearted mood all present had shared. There it was again; an oppressive spirit had entered the room. What escaped Carolyn at the time was the fact that she had never relinquished the position in the first place and her nemesis was becoming a dark spirit. Had the ghost known as Bathsheba literally moved into their mother? The children watched as her bright smile curled into a grimace, once sparkling green eyes appeared hollow and vacant. An intertwining had occurred, much like tendrils of ivy climbing a pole. No mistaking this twisted love, its momentum appeared to be reversed, from the eyes down. As transformation, it was an eerie sight to see. They knew not who was with them as music frolicked through the air.

Had an unholy spirit come to stay? Could it be true, she’d never left? Was Carolyn becoming consumed by a spirit, one with an eternal longing to feel the warmth of human flesh again? Did she crave the sensation of wrapping children in her arms or long to rest beside a man she loved? Lyrics as lovely as any ever written lashed at a mother’s mind as she listened intently. When it came to an end she raised her head and uttered only one word: Haunting.

________________________________

"The woman’s like the tide, she comes and goes /

She knows the things that I can just suppose /

And the time I spend in sorrow

will match the time that she laughs /

And the songs I sing cannot explain but half."

Dan Fogelberg Comes and Goes

timely manners

Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.

Romans xii. 21

Christine and Cynthia couldn’t help but notice how their belongings were being tampered with, as toys became a point of fascination. April and Nancy knew things in their bedroom were frequently displaced, later found in other places, moving by their own volition. How could something that was there in one moment, disappear in the next? Invisible spirit activity was rampant and included manipulating objects around them. It was commonplace, the natural in supernatural. There was a hotbed of kinetic energy in their farmhouse and an ever present sense of a potential energy; a prevalent something is about to happen sensation; particularly intense forewarning prior to manifestation. Stepping through time and space as tearing through dimensions is disruptive on either side of the perceived veil. If such quantum leaps exist, it must be a natural phenomenon, not some illogical supernatural event, as is frequently described; something beyond the corporeal realm, yet accessible, given the appropriate environment. More likely, it is an integrated function of energy being dispersed in different ways because it has accumulated. Ultimately, everything will be explained by physics or metaphysics. No mortal should presume to neither understand Mother Nature nor comprehend the complexities of the Universe. Discovery aside, anyone in the know will admit that we know nothing. Our existence remains a mystery.

In spite of all the displacement faced from the inception, once they settled into their farmhouse, what had been packed then unpacked then thoughtfully rearranged was now being shared. What the children considered as intrusions by each other soon proved otherwise. When the phenomenon began to occur, their first inclination was to blame each other, an initial defensiveness among them contrary to their personalities. Quite strange, considering the amount of space shared had, at the very least, quadrupled. Essentially, there was plenty of room for everyone. Accusations and suspicions were running rampant and Carolyn could not understand why she suddenly had to be a referee, running interference between daughters who somehow always managed to get along in the past! It was disconcerting for the lot of them and as far as their mother was concerned, unnecessary. Intolerant of the discourse, she would not abide it for long. Unaccustomed to breaking up such arguments, Carolyn reminded her children how fortunate they were to live in an awe-inspiring farmhouse; a beautiful place in the country. They’d hang their heads in shame… and hush! Gratitude is the foundation of acknowledging a gift. Her girls knew the sacrifice made to provide them with a very special home place.

These children knew about life beyond their borders. Underlying all else was a broad worldview, including knowledge of homeless, starving children and political oppression: war and pleas for peace. They’d received messages from their mother, assimilated by osmosis; a philosophy which would carry them farther than any formal education received. The woman knew precisely what it meant to be destitute, to have no possessions to misplace. She’d worked diligently to be certain her girls did not suffer that same cruel fate. Her divine intention had been to instill this abiding sense of gratitude as a fundamental element of her own innate spirituality. Carolyn appealed to their higher Nature, gently persuading them to reconsider their rather base, caustic approach, adopting one far more gentile, insisting that they think outside the boxing match. Play nicely, girls! An untenable blame game had to come to an end; a tug of war that suddenly erupted between five siblings was entirely unacceptable. The cease and desist order issued had challenged them to find alternatives to settle all disputes. The ladies opted for peace long before they knew where to rightfully place the blame. Then the trouble ended as abruptly as it began. Returning to a more copacetic existence they effectively defeated an invasively negative influence: evil as a presence whose source had yet to be identified. The house had already begun yielding its lessons as fruit, ripe for the picking of a fight.

Children must be taught. Guided. Directed. Within weeks, a significant if brief period of time, arguments subsided and dispositions brightened as these girls began to understand… their anger was as misplaced as their possessions. With each sighting the picture became clearer, more well-defined. A mystery unfolding before their eyes, witnessing a phenomenon of supernatural origin, events which could not otherwise be explained, also, could not be denied. The conundrum: by example, they were taught when to withhold and when to be forthcoming but they did not know which path to take. When Cynthia disclosed information to Andrea it released a pressure valve, nearly filling the frosty air with steam. It had been building within her for several months, threatening to explode. The child was so frightened and confused. Her relief was as real as her troubling report. Cindy successfully offloaded what

Reviews for House of Darkness House of Light

[carol420 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I couldn't wait to read this. It's based on the movie "The Conjuring" ...or maybe it's the other way around....anyway...The entire book was confusing. Not because it wouldn't have been a good story or because it's not interesting... but because of the style in which it was written. It was worse than trying to read a college text book if you are only in 5th grade. And this is only the first volume?? I understand there are 3 more just like it. It literally took me nearly a month to wade through it.