Haunting on Groening Road

                  Stacy began noticing that things were not in their right place. It started slowly. Knives in the wrong drawer. Pillows on the wrong couch. Toothbrushes in the wrong holders. She went on about her days, fixing the rearranged items, assuming that it was her husband or son that kept moving them. Until one day, their bed had been moved to the opposite side of the room.

                  “Ted,” Stacy called out. “Can you come up here please?”

                  Ted hopped up the stairs and popped his head in the doorway of their bedroom. “What’s up?” He asked.

                  “This.” Stacy pointed towards the bed. “What were you thinking when you moved our bed? It doesn’t fit right here. I need you to help me move it back.”

                  Ted looked confused.

                  “What?” Stacy questioned.

                  “I didn’t move the bed,” Ted replied. “I haven’t been upstairs at all since we got up this morning.”

                  Stacy stared at him blankly, then broke out in a big grin.

“Are you messing with me?” She asked. “You’ve been moving little things for months, and now you are making a show of it, aren’t you? Because I didn’t mention all the little things.”

                  She laughed under her breath. “Just please come help me put it back.”

                  Ted stared at her, his brow furrowed. “Honest, Stace, I didn’t move the bed. I haven’t moved anything in this house.”

                  She turned back towards him, confused. “What do you mean? How did this get across the room then?”

                  “Scott, maybe,” Ted replied.

                  “Scott is only 12,” Stacy said. “He couldn’t move this bed if he tried.”

                  They stared at each other for what felt like hours. Their questioning was cut short as a loud thud echoed from downstairs.

                  “What the hell was that?” Ted questioned.

They both raced for the door and down the stairs. They stopped short as the oversized chair that sat next to the fireplace was now across the room, near the front door.

“Stace,” Ted’s voice quivered. “What is going on?”

* * *

                  Ted and Stacy Miller bought the house at 1843 Groening Road in the early 90s. The house was a split level that sat on a corner. It was made of honey colored shake shingle with bright white trim. The front door was a deep red and had a giant bronze knocker hung in the center. The front lawn was decorated with tulip trees and boxy hedges. The backyard was fenced and it had a large patio with a portico.  

                  The neighborhood was safe and full of families. The summers were full of shouts from kids running through sprinklers and the tune of the ice cream man. Winters came with twinkle lights, snowmen and caroling.

                  Stacy knew this was home the minute she saw it. This was the dream. She was four months pregnant with Scott when she and Ted bought the home. She painted the nursery olive green and trimmed the room with baby animal prints. She spent every night in that room, rocking in the plushy oversized gliding chair they’d tucked in the corner near the crib. She regularly slept in that chair when Scott was an infant.

                  Ted would wake to find her snuggled in the chair, Scott cooing gently in his crib. He was a great baby. Slept through the night early and wasn’t too fussy. They even lucked out that he didn’t get colic.

                  As the years went on, Ted and Stacy poured themselves into their home. They pulled out the old cabinets and put in new ones; bright white with frosted glass fronts. They redid the entire bathroom, installing a claw foot tub that Stacy made very good use of.

As Scott got older, they became the “fun” house. They’d have backyard barbecues for his friends with sleepovers and movie nights projected onto the side of the house for his birthday.

                  By the time Scott was eleven, everything got a little quieter. The neighborhood felt less noisy. Scott’s friends weren’t around as much. The house settled and seemed creakier. Ted and Stacy got into a routine and everything felt calm.

                  That was, until things started moving without reason. The chair being drug across the room was the last straw, though neither Ted nor Stacy knew what to do next.

* * *

                  “Ted, I don’t know what is going on, but things have been moving around for weeks now. I really thought it was you.”

Stacy shivered. “Are you cold, too?”

                  Ted inched closer to Stacy and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re freezing,” he replied. “Why didn’t you tel—“

                  Ted was cut short as a woman walked in front of them into the kitchen. She was staring straight ahead, as if she hadn’t seen them at all. The sound of running water filled the air.

                  “What in the actual fuck was that,” Stacy said, her eyes wide as saucers.

                  “Why is someone in our house?” Ted questioned.

                  Together they stormed towards the kitchen, Stacy clutching Ted’s arm behind him. She inched her head around him to peer into the kitchen. It was empty. The water was running but there was no one there.

                  Ted crossed the threshold carefully, afraid he might conjure whatever it was that was messing with them. As Stacy stepped into the kitchen, the floor creaked and they both jumped. Stacy let out a small yelp.

                  They turned quickly to see if something was behind them, but they found nothing. The only sound in the house was the water, still running. Ted turned and shut the faucet off. A few small drips hit the porcelain and then the house fell quiet. Ted and Stacy looked at each other, dumbfounded.

                  Ted took Stacy’s hand in his and they walked out of the kitchen. The chair was still near the front door, but everything else seemed to be in it’s right place.

                  Until the water turned back on. They stared at each other and Stacy turned pale. Just as quickly as it started, it stopped.

                  “I think our house is haunted,” she whispered to Ted as the woman drifted out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

                  Ted stared, frozen in place.

                  “I guess it’s a good thing Scott is with his grandparents this weekend,” Stacy whispered, her eyes still glued to where the woman had just wafted by.

                  “What … what do we do?” Stacy asked.

                  Hurriedly, they rushed up the stairs to their bedroom and slammed the door shut. “I think maybe we should go find a priest or something. Maybe they can help us get these ghosts out of here.”

                  “Ghosts? You think there’s more than one? More than just that woman downstairs messing with our kitchen?” Ted looked horrified.

                  “I mean, this bed is heavy, Ted. Do you think she could have moved this all on her own? And that chair? There has to be more than on—“

                  The door creaked open slowly. Both Ted and Stacy stared in terror, waiting to see what was behind it.

                  Nothing.

Nothing came jumping out to scare them. No one was standing behind it, staring at them blankly. The door just, opened.

                  They huddled together tightly on the bed. Neither realized they’d been holding their breath until the clink of hangers swinging into one another came from the closet. Stacy yelped and dug her face into Ted’s arm. He stared at the dark space the sound had come from. He’d gone completely numb.

                  The sound stopped and Ted gently pulled himself from Stacy’s grasp. He walked towards the closet. One lone wire hanger was swinging back and forth gently.

                  “We have to get out of here and find someone who can help us,” he said to Stacy. She shook her head vigorously. They gripped each others hands and headed down the stairs.

                  Just as they got to the front door, the phone rang. They both jumped at the shrill sound. They turned and stared at the phone.

                  “I’m sure it’s Scott,” Ted said, urging Stacy towards the receiver. Stacy pulled the phone from it’s cradle and softly answered.

                  “Hello?”

                  There was nothing but static. She stared at Ted, wide eyed. She dropped the phone to the floor as the sound of voices, not that of her son, started chatting on the line.

                  “Someone’s there,” she cried. Her eyes were wet and red. “Someone, not Scott, is on our phone line.”

                  Ted picked the phone up off the ground and listened. Two women were talking about the house down the street. The one with the fire damage.

                  Fire damage? He thought to himself. Whose house caught fire?

                  He racked his brain, staring straight ahead as he listened intently.

They went on about how the Jensen’s had been hosting some neighbors when the flue in the fireplace lodged and oh, just how awful it was that they’d all been killed in such a horrific way. They went on about how they couldn’t believe that it had been a year ago to the day. What a shame.

                  Ted knew the Jensen’s, quite well in fact. They were one of he and Stacy’s favorite couples in the neighborhood. They often had game nights and the kids would regularly have sleepovers. Ted scoured his memory. He couldn’t recall a fire at their home.

                  The phone slid from his grip and thudded to the ground. He stared at Stacy, his eyes welling with tears. His body began to shake.

                  “Ted!” Stacy cried. “Ted, what is it? What did you hear?”

                  She shook him, trying to get him to respond. He stared right through her.

                  Stacy picked the receiver up from the floor and placed it to her ear.

                  “That poor couple. Having a fun night and then boom, just like that, all four of them, gone in an instant. I’m just so glad that their son wasn’t home. What was his name? Ralph, yes.  That was the Jensen’s son. Who was the other one? Ah, that’s right. Scott Miller. Poor boys.”

                  Stacy let out a howl that came straight from her toes. Ted continued to shake, unable to speak. The ladies on the phone went silent.

                  “Did you hear that?” one of them whispered.

                  “I think it came from … from my living room.”