around, trying to see if there were any changes to our existence—just in case. Ifirst checked the wood paneling that covered the southern wall. “Nothing.” My attention quickly turned toward the heavy drapes on the northern wall, which covered the forever-locked French doors. Finally, I looked at the windows in front of the built-in, bench seat at the eastern wall. “Hmm.”
I first checked the wood paneling that covered the southern wall. “Nothing.” My attention quickly turned toward the heavy drapes on the northern wall, which covered the forever-locked French doors. Finally, I looked at the windows in front of the built-in, bench seat at the eastern wall. “Hmm.”
“Hmm?” Isaiah repeated, slightly over a whisper. He glanced up from the phone and quickly back at the seemingly never-ending, dancing screen. He turned his head and then, again, looked up. “Do you hear that?”
“What?”
“It sounds like Harper, but she’s talking like us.”
“Not again.”
Slowly, we rose and crept to the room’s entrance.
Isaiah put his finger to his lips and leaned. “She’s right there,” he whispered.
“I hear her.” I leaned and saw Harper sitting in front of the washer and dryer, playing with a doll.
“I will,” I heard her say. “I’ll tell him later.” She paused like she was talking to someone. “I love you too,” she continued, then seemingly waited for someone to finish a sentence. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
“OMG! Wow.” I turned my unbelieving eyes toward Isaiah.
“She can’t talk like that,” Isaiah scorned. “See, I told you. It’s last Christmas all over again.”
“Maybe,” I muttered, trying to hide my distress. “Let’s see.” I peeked my head out and cleared my throat. “Harper?”
Harper looked up. “I Aidey.”
I knelt next to her, and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Paying daws.”
“Playing with your dolls?” I looked up at Isaiah and we shared shrugs.
“Es.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“A ady.”
“A lady? Harper, were you talking to a lady?”
“Es.”
“What lady?”
Harper shrugged and turned to her left. She stared right at the door leading to the garage, and in a clear, coherent voice said, “I won’t tell them.” Suddenly, as if we weren’t there, Harper stood and walked toward the kitchen.
I stood and looked Isaiah in the eyes. Anticipating his next question, I blurted, “No, we’re not telling our moms.”
“Okay,” he said. “So what then?”
“I don’t know.” I looked around and then went back inside the room.
“No.”
We stood in the middle of the room.
Isaiah looked around without turning his head. “You feel it?”
“I do,” I said, trying to fight the eerie feeling. “It’s just like when we landed in the field of snow that surrounded the Christmas town.” Continuing in my frozen stance, I searched the room, including the carpet and all the wires. “Stay away from the wires!” I barked. “You never know, there could be an electronic connection like in that movie about haunted electrical lines.”
“You mean The Mothman Prophecies?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”