Around 2008-2009 I rented a house in Concord N.C. It was part of the Brown Mill Community. If you're not familiar with what that means, N.C. had thread and fabric mills. The local mill, in this case Brown Mill, would setup villages for their workers to live in, at a reduced rate of course. These historic neighborhoods are very quaint, a piece of history. Depending upon the surrounding area, these homes could be very expensive to occupy if in the right neighborhood. This wasn't the case for me. I paid $500 a month, quite inexpensive at the time. I got a discount because the owners son was married to a secretary at our rehab.
The original owner though was the current owners Dad. He was one of those mill workers in the day. When I went to tour the home to see if it was worth the money, I immediately fell in love. So cute. Two fireplaces, only five rooms, a built on bathroom, fenced in yard, plenty of parking, large trees shading the whole home and a front porch. I couldn't have wished for more at the time. It was close to work and I looked forward to decorating. As I walked from room to room, I was of course using "all" of my senses to see if it was a positive dwelling or negative. Each room gave me an all clear, except for the front bedroom. Someone was there, a male. He was watching, curious, not threatening. I didn't mention this to Richard, at the time.
Kitchen
After I moved in, it took several months before things started happening. At first it was the kitchen cabinets. I'd come home and one or two would be open. On other days, it wold be more than a few and only upper cabinets. I assumed it was because they were original to the home, worn latches. Yet, I did notice they didn't open when I was home, just when I was gone. Then one day, after I acknowledged to myself that it may be something more, I was home and heard a noise in the kitchen. A knock. I went to investigate, thinking one of my cats was on the counter, if so, I was going to spray the with water. Instead, I saw a cabinet door open. As I entered the kitchen, another opened, then another. I was a little afraid but more mad than anything. I told whoever it was something to the effect of "stop this shit. I'm not scared of you. Quit opening these cabinets." It never happened again.
CAT and MOUSE?
My cats were kittens and usually sleeping or wrestling together on the floor. Often, my cat Bailey would sit facing the wall, next to the living room fireplace and stare. She'd stare for up to 30 minutes at a time. Never pawing the wall, just staring. I used to listen to the walls with my stethoscope to try and hear if there are mice in the wall. I never heard anything.
Smoke em' if you got em'
My front bedroom was a source of different feelings, and smells. I only felt him watching me in there. I felt welcomed at first. I felt his grandfatherly presence looking after me. I used to get residual smells in there of pipe smoke. It was sweet and very aromatic. I enjoyed it.
Andrew Wyeth
My favorite painter is Andrew Wyeth
He is well known for his collection of paintings, but one is named "Christina's World".
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Christinasworld.jpg#/media/File:Christinasworld.jpg
I had a few framed poster prints of his. This print was fairly large, and hanging just next to the front door entrance. I took special care when hanging paintings. I didn't just put a brad nail in the wall, I used a anchored screw or a toggle bolt for heavier prints. For some reason, after my typical hanging routine, this print was on the floor when I got home. Not face down, but sitting on its bottom edge. I assumed at the time that me opening/closing the door had knocked it from its screw. I hung it again on the wire and angled the screw up more to prevent it from jumping off again. A few weeks later, I came home and it was on the floor again, this time face down. I was mad. I knew it was likely him, or someone else who didn't like the image. I hung it for the third and final time, using more anchored screws, and different mounting backs to secure it to the wall. I even tried to rip it down without lifting it off its mounts, and I couldn't. A few months went by. I had all but forgot to check and see if it was hanging as I came home from work. I came home, found it face down on the floor, glass broken within the frame. The glass falling to pieces upon me lifting the frame to check the damage. I decided not to hang it again. Let it be I thought. If he doesn't like it, then that's his loss. Its' still my favorite painting by Andrew Wyeth.
The painting does have a haunting effect on some people. The true "Christina" in the painting, was a polio survivor, partially paralyzed below her waist.
The original owner though was the current owners Dad. He was one of those mill workers in the day. When I went to tour the home to see if it was worth the money, I immediately fell in love. So cute. Two fireplaces, only five rooms, a built on bathroom, fenced in yard, plenty of parking, large trees shading the whole home and a front porch. I couldn't have wished for more at the time. It was close to work and I looked forward to decorating. As I walked from room to room, I was of course using "all" of my senses to see if it was a positive dwelling or negative. Each room gave me an all clear, except for the front bedroom. Someone was there, a male. He was watching, curious, not threatening. I didn't mention this to Richard, at the time.
Kitchen
After I moved in, it took several months before things started happening. At first it was the kitchen cabinets. I'd come home and one or two would be open. On other days, it wold be more than a few and only upper cabinets. I assumed it was because they were original to the home, worn latches. Yet, I did notice they didn't open when I was home, just when I was gone. Then one day, after I acknowledged to myself that it may be something more, I was home and heard a noise in the kitchen. A knock. I went to investigate, thinking one of my cats was on the counter, if so, I was going to spray the with water. Instead, I saw a cabinet door open. As I entered the kitchen, another opened, then another. I was a little afraid but more mad than anything. I told whoever it was something to the effect of "stop this shit. I'm not scared of you. Quit opening these cabinets." It never happened again.
CAT and MOUSE?
My cats were kittens and usually sleeping or wrestling together on the floor. Often, my cat Bailey would sit facing the wall, next to the living room fireplace and stare. She'd stare for up to 30 minutes at a time. Never pawing the wall, just staring. I used to listen to the walls with my stethoscope to try and hear if there are mice in the wall. I never heard anything.
Smoke em' if you got em'
My front bedroom was a source of different feelings, and smells. I only felt him watching me in there. I felt welcomed at first. I felt his grandfatherly presence looking after me. I used to get residual smells in there of pipe smoke. It was sweet and very aromatic. I enjoyed it.
Andrew Wyeth
My favorite painter is Andrew Wyeth
He is well known for his collection of paintings, but one is named "Christina's World".
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Christinasworld.jpg#/media/File:Christinasworld.jpg
I had a few framed poster prints of his. This print was fairly large, and hanging just next to the front door entrance. I took special care when hanging paintings. I didn't just put a brad nail in the wall, I used a anchored screw or a toggle bolt for heavier prints. For some reason, after my typical hanging routine, this print was on the floor when I got home. Not face down, but sitting on its bottom edge. I assumed at the time that me opening/closing the door had knocked it from its screw. I hung it again on the wire and angled the screw up more to prevent it from jumping off again. A few weeks later, I came home and it was on the floor again, this time face down. I was mad. I knew it was likely him, or someone else who didn't like the image. I hung it for the third and final time, using more anchored screws, and different mounting backs to secure it to the wall. I even tried to rip it down without lifting it off its mounts, and I couldn't. A few months went by. I had all but forgot to check and see if it was hanging as I came home from work. I came home, found it face down on the floor, glass broken within the frame. The glass falling to pieces upon me lifting the frame to check the damage. I decided not to hang it again. Let it be I thought. If he doesn't like it, then that's his loss. Its' still my favorite painting by Andrew Wyeth.
The painting does have a haunting effect on some people. The true "Christina" in the painting, was a polio survivor, partially paralyzed below her waist.
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