Haunted
Your eyes crack open in the middle of the night and scan across your darkened bedroom to the shadowy form crouched in the corner of the room. It’s just a pile of clothes on the night table… right?
Your last co-worker left hours ago left hours ago, but you NEED to have inventory finished by tomorrow. The Office seems eerily empty and for the first time you understand how silence can echo. Suddenly a shrill “SCHREE” echoes from down the hall. Was that a chair being pushed? You ARE alone here, right?!? ‘hello?”…
Even the most Die-hard skeptic, has had that moment. When the hair on the back of your neck tingles upright and you could SWEAR, you’re not alone. I’ve always considered a level-headed guy. There is, after all, always a rational explanation for any phenomena.
Except for ONE time in my life.
Years before Sara and I got Married, while we were both Students, we lived in what might be the Grandest Old Mansion in Brandon, 122 18th Street. The Daly House. Built in 1882 for Thomas Mayne Daly, the very first mayor of Brandon, Thomas and his Family stayed there until they moved to Roseland, BC in 1896. Then sold to Daly’s law partner George Robson Coldwell who kept it in the Family for 32 years.
Around 1930 the Children’s Aid Society purchased the building and used it to house The Maples, a children’s shelter that ran out of the building until 1971.
After five years of vacancy, Brandon Museum Inc. took over the building opening in 1978.
When Sara and I took over duties as live in care-takers we made the old Servants Quarters in the back of the building our Home. I loved it at first sight. Narrow Hallways with a dog-leg staircase and several “secret” doors so that the “Help” could move around the Mansion without being seen. ONE such panelled door was from our upstairs hall into what we called the Doll House Room. This room was packed with Period Toys and a magnificent Doll House (still in the Museum for you to check out!) as well as sleeping chambers for some child of the time. Kids LOVED the Doll House Room and naturally gravitated to it – but I’d always felt it was somewhat… creepy.
Maybe just because when it’s 1 am and you’re the ONLY living soul in that Huge Space waxing the floors, it’s easy to imagine those Elder Dolls in their white sleeping Gowns… moved a bit.
One day I was rushing to get ready for my night shift slinging Steaks at The Keg. Heading through that upstairs Hall I paused for a moment, was that… giggling? Two Children’s voices tinged with what seemed delight on the other side of the panel that led to the Doll House room. No surprise really – like I said Kids loved that room. I finished throwing my work kit into a bag, took off out the side door and proceeded to hoof it down 18th Street.
I was most of the way there when it struck me. It was Sunday today. The Museum was locked up tight.
