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Authors: Elizabeth Cody Kimmel
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the front door, which was locked. Through the window I could see the mailbox. The flag
was down again. Something made several loud popping sounds in the kitchen, then I heard the sound of a chair being dragged
across the floor. The next noise I heard came out of my own throat. It was a tight whimper of one hundred percent fear.
The sitting room had given me an okay vibe, I remembered. A child had played in there. In four giant steps I was out of the
hallway and in the old sitting room. No ball. The room was empty. And freezing.
Something grabbed hold of the back of my shirt and yanked sharply.
I screamed again, backing out of the room and swatting my hands in the air as if I was being attacked by bees. I turned in
the direction of the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to get out of the house as quickly as possible. But I was stopped
by the sound of a crash from that direction, and what sounded like a heavy piece of furniture being dragged across the floor.
I ran up the staircase, freezing at the top of the landing. The old man’s room was up here. But I didn’t want to go back downstairs.
I didn’t want to go back to the kitchen. I was literally stunned with terror, my breath coming in short shallow gasps. If
it really was possible to die of fright, then I’d have been dead at that moment.
Something had
touched
me in the living room. Grabbed me. I had never been physically touched by a spirit. My mother had never said such a thing
was possible. If a thing down there could grab my shirt, what else could it do? Shove me down the stairs? Put its hands around
my throat?
I was crying now, at least as much as I could cry between gasps for breath. My face felt prickly and strange, and I was dizzy
and nauseated. I felt like I was going to throw up. I stumbled into the third bedroom, the only one I hadn’t been inside yet,
only to be hit by a wall of air so cold it took my breath away. I turned to get away from the room and came face-to-face with
the old man, who had appeared in the doorway. His face was contorted with rage. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Instead he uttered a kind of howl, the cry of an animal in pain and terror.
This was, as they say, the last straw. I opened my mouth and screamed longer and louder than I thought physically possible,
determined to drown him out. I closed my eyes tightly, and backed further into the room, finally pressing myself into the
corner. I wedged myself there with my hands up by my face, and kept screaming, over the sound of breaking glass in the distance.
The floor was spinning, and something was coming up the stairs, heavy and fast. The last thing I remembered was opening my
eyes and looking into the startled face of Orin.
Then I guess I passed out.
Chapter 10
I woke up on the old wicker couch on the van Hechts’ porch. I was still feeling sick to my stomach.
“Stay still,” I heard. “Don’t try to sit up yet.”
I didn’t try to look up at Orin. I honestly felt like I was dying.
“There’s something wrong with me,” I said, barely whispering. “It’s hard to breathe . . . I feel really weird . . .”
“You’re having a panic attack, Kat,” Orin said. “Will you let me help you?”
Anything was better than feeling like this. I nodded.
“Close your eyes,” Orin said. “Take a deep breath through your nose, and slowly let it out through your mouth. While you’re
breathing in, think
soooooo.
While you’re breathing out, think
hummmmmm.
Try not to think about anything else. Just the breathing, and those two words.”
It sounded ridiculously stupid, but I was desperate. I did as he instructed. After a minute or so, miraculously, I began to
feel a little better. And the fact that I did feel a little better made me realize that maybe I wasn’t going to die. But a
panic attack? I didn’t even know what that was, but it sounded kind of pathetic.
“Sooo . . . hum . . .” Orin reminded me. “Your
was down again. Something made several loud popping sounds in the kitchen, then I heard the sound of a chair being dragged
across the floor. The next noise I heard came out of my own throat. It was a tight whimper of one hundred percent fear.
The sitting room had given me an okay vibe, I remembered. A child had played in there. In four giant steps I was out of the
hallway and in the old sitting room. No ball. The room was empty. And freezing.
Something grabbed hold of the back of my shirt and yanked sharply.
I screamed again, backing out of the room and swatting my hands in the air as if I was being attacked by bees. I turned in
the direction of the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to get out of the house as quickly as possible. But I was stopped
by the sound of a crash from that direction, and what sounded like a heavy piece of furniture being dragged across the floor.
I ran up the staircase, freezing at the top of the landing. The old man’s room was up here. But I didn’t want to go back downstairs.
I didn’t want to go back to the kitchen. I was literally stunned with terror, my breath coming in short shallow gasps. If
it really was possible to die of fright, then I’d have been dead at that moment.
Something had
touched
me in the living room. Grabbed me. I had never been physically touched by a spirit. My mother had never said such a thing
was possible. If a thing down there could grab my shirt, what else could it do? Shove me down the stairs? Put its hands around
my throat?
I was crying now, at least as much as I could cry between gasps for breath. My face felt prickly and strange, and I was dizzy
and nauseated. I felt like I was going to throw up. I stumbled into the third bedroom, the only one I hadn’t been inside yet,
only to be hit by a wall of air so cold it took my breath away. I turned to get away from the room and came face-to-face with
the old man, who had appeared in the doorway. His face was contorted with rage. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Instead he uttered a kind of howl, the cry of an animal in pain and terror.
This was, as they say, the last straw. I opened my mouth and screamed longer and louder than I thought physically possible,
determined to drown him out. I closed my eyes tightly, and backed further into the room, finally pressing myself into the
corner. I wedged myself there with my hands up by my face, and kept screaming, over the sound of breaking glass in the distance.
The floor was spinning, and something was coming up the stairs, heavy and fast. The last thing I remembered was opening my
eyes and looking into the startled face of Orin.
Then I guess I passed out.
Chapter 10
I woke up on the old wicker couch on the van Hechts’ porch. I was still feeling sick to my stomach.
“Stay still,” I heard. “Don’t try to sit up yet.”
I didn’t try to look up at Orin. I honestly felt like I was dying.
“There’s something wrong with me,” I said, barely whispering. “It’s hard to breathe . . . I feel really weird . . .”
“You’re having a panic attack, Kat,” Orin said. “Will you let me help you?”
Anything was better than feeling like this. I nodded.
“Close your eyes,” Orin said. “Take a deep breath through your nose, and slowly let it out through your mouth. While you’re
breathing in, think
soooooo.
While you’re breathing out, think
hummmmmm.
Try not to think about anything else. Just the breathing, and those two words.”
It sounded ridiculously stupid, but I was desperate. I did as he instructed. After a minute or so, miraculously, I began to
feel a little better. And the fact that I did feel a little better made me realize that maybe I wasn’t going to die. But a
panic attack? I didn’t even know what that was, but it sounded kind of pathetic.
“Sooo . . . hum . . .” Orin reminded me. “Your
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