So I figured that enough time has passed and I can now talk about the Mysteries of Center Tuftonboro, New Hampshire. People close to me, and even a few not so close, know these stories. However, I have been using them to entertain the good folks here in Wales and decided at last that they belong on the web in some form. I did a random search and didn’t find anything else posted about the subject at hand so I guess I’m the first…
It started on a wet and rainy day in The Middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire. I knew that I would be living out in the country, fairly far from anything of significance, but I had no idea I would be so isolated. No telephone, no television, no neighbors, nothing. The house was a big farmhouse, about two hundred years old, and I lived in the attic. There were offices below me so during the day it was quite social with lots of people buzzing about. At 5:00 pm, however, everything shut down and I was left alone. Alone, on a mountain, ten miles to the nearest town. I thought I could handle it. I had my laptop to work on my novel, some books that I hadn’t gotten around to reading yet, and a CD player that would occasionally get in a radio station as well.
The first week was uneventful. I got to know the place a little bit, through walks and through drives in the country. I liked the fact that the lake was only a short walk down the hill from me and in the evenings it was kind of peaceful to sit on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs and watch the sky.
Week 2 was when I started going crazy.
The old wooden staircase that lead up to my room was noisy. There’s no way I could have sneaked down them at any time. A door at the bottom of the stairs was always kept shut. The hallway outside my room, leading to a storage room, was also noisy. No creeping around here. Well, one night I went to bed, read a little while, and switched off the light to go to sleep. I hadn’t been out for very long when I heard a ruckus on the stairwell. It wasn’t the soft creaking of my shoes or even someone of my size. This was “CLUMP, CLUMP.” At first I thought something had happened and someone was coming to get me. I didn’t have a phone, after all. So I jumped out of bed and ran to the door. The footsteps continued coming up the stairs. I flung open the door and switched on the light and-nothing. The stairwell was completely empty and the door at the bottom closed.
I was disturbed, but not enough to be scared so I went back to bed. I thought it could have possibly been the wind.
The next night I heard the same thing. I checked the time to see if it was happening the same time it did the night before, but it wasn’t. This time, I did not get up but lay in bed and listened. (With the light on at this point.) The steps reached the top of the stairs, seemed to pause at my door, and then went across the hall to the other room. I slept with the light on for the rest of the night.
I didn’t exactly start getting scared until the next night. I hadn’t slept well the night before, obviously, and tried wearing myself out by staying up as late as I could so that once I laid down I would be able to sleep. Once again, I drifted off, only to awaken an hour later to the footsteps. This time they were not on the stairwell, but outside my door. I listened for a moment and was about to get up when my bedroom door shook. It didn’t look like someone was trying to turn the knob; it just looked like someone hand their hands flat on the door and was pushing. This went on for several seconds and then I heard the footsteps walking away to the other room.
He next evening I closed the door to that other room. I had decided that whatever was inhabiting the upstairs seemed to like it and I didn’t want to look at it. Whenever I would have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night I would open my door and look right into that room and I was afraid that one night I would see something that I didn’t want to see.
A week went by with the same noises. By then I was sleeping with the lamp on and constantly on alert. A few other noises were added to it, and I discovered that they really started as soon as the sun went down. One night as I was taking my shower on the second floor, I heard the noises above me. Again, they stopped at my door and then went across the hallway to the other room. When I went back upstairs, the door to that room was open. I was not amused. But I DID find it interesting that I could hear the noises all over the house and not just upstairs.
The pounds and rumblings were enough to make me jittery, but when the voices started I knew I was at the end of my rope. It was about three in the morning and I had finally settled into some good sleep when the whispering started. It was quiet at first, and then gradually got louder. I could make out words know and then, but it was so soft that I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman’s voice. It came from outside my bedroom door. I listened to it for along time and then turned on my CD player to continuous repeat.