I told Eddie my “Ghost Stories” onTheDog Walk.
Boys like him grew up less concerned about their first car and more determined to own their first boat.
He spent the first 13 years of my life landlocked, surrounded by landlubbers.
The house in New London was, in part, his liberation, his return to the Sea.
The Thames is not actually a river but an estuary of the sound.
By definition:“The wide mouth of a river into which the tide flows from the sea.
The college was across the street, occupying a good stretch of Pequot Avenue.
The street was the only flat ground; beyond it, the elevation rose steadily for several blocks.
They were much more appealing from a safe distance.
Built in the attic space, the second floor towered over the water at the rear of the house.
Both the closed stairwell and upstairs hallway were finished in dark veneers, thickly coated with oil-based shellac.
The room was completely empty except for a full-length mirror that stared back at you upon approach.
My father lived in the house alone for three months until my mother arrived.
My sister and I stayed with our grandparents in Sharon.
She went on to say that the Coast Guard conducted an extensive search, but he was never found.
My sister stayed with my grandparents to finish her senior year at Sharon High.
They’re very different than pullouts.
There was no avoiding the split that ran the entire length, and it took some getting used to.
It looked much like any ordinary closet door and had always been kept closed.
My father eventually grew curious and put a hasp with a padlock on the door leading to the upstairs.
The next morning it was wide open, and the door to the small bedroom upstairs was closed.
After some extraordinary things began to happen, my mother gave them a call.
I went to school in Norwich and drove in with my father every morning.
That night, it snowed hard, and I remember visibility was brutal.
We stayed at the Y late, and after a slow drive, we arrived home just after 10:00.
My mother had been home alone.
I didnt find out about the events of that evening until after we moved…
The view was nothing short of spectacular during a squall.
The whole time, it was looking directly at my mother.
She described it as having a head, torso, short stubby arms, and male in its appearance.
I wasn’t told about the strange activity when we got home, and I went right to bed.
When my mother told my father what had happened, he didn’t believe her.
He told her it had to be a mist, the snow, her imagination…
It was after that night that my mother began ringing the doorbell before entering the house.
That night it snowed.
My sister stayed up and watched… “They told my sister to go to bed, but she didn’t.
My father carried two mortgages for almost a year.
He said to keep the deposit; $10,000 was a large sum of money back then.
We eventually sold the house, but not before the basement flooded.
I knew he was watching from the small attic room on the second floor.
It was #347 Pequot Ave. We were #352.
My mother and I drove back to see where this house was in relation to ours…
It was a larger, three-story house, higher up on the hill, diagonally across from ours.
Recent photo of 347.
The white house down the hill and to the left is 352.
The four-year-old boy who lived there was found up in the attic late one night.
“Each time he was found up in the attic, the child had the same explanation.
Experts were called in.
He spent months at sea while his wife waited at home for his safe return.
The family at 347 accepted his presence, understanding he had only good intentions.
