I grew up in a little town of about 600 in Alberta. When the new hospital was built, the old hospital (already a house-like structure) was converted into a livable house area and rented out. We lived there for a brief spell when I was a young lass. The main floor was the only space we occupied, and the upstairs was closed off as it was still uncoverted from the old hospital rooms they had been.
One day when I was at home alone after school, I was standing in the kitchen area and could suddenly hear this very heavy breathing coming from the hall leading towards the bedrooms. At first I thought it was maybe our dog Dobey having a pretty intense sleep. But when I went to look for him, he was sleeping in the front of the house by the door. So it wasn't him.
I very cautiously started to walk down the hall to investigate, my heart going a million miles an hour. By the time I got to my dad's bedroom, it was getting louder and louder. That was all I could take. I quickly turned around, beat a quick path to the door, grabbed the dog and went crying down the street to find someone I knew. I found my dad who came back to the house to find out what in god's name was going on.
To this day, I don't know know that we ever found out what or where the breathing was coming from. And needless to say, we didn't live in that house very much longer after that. A few years after I had graduated and moved away, it was demolished. Hopefully it took all its mouth breathing spirits with it. Because I'm pretty sure that's what it was.
Tia
No comments:
Post a Comment