The Strange Occurrence

Submitted by Spicewood

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

We had a very strange occurrence happen recently on our return to Ohio, after a visit with relatives in New York.

We got home around three in the afternoon after a rather leisurely drive from Western Pennsylvania. Strangely though, a white Escalade had been in close proximity to us the whole trip, but not enough that we became suspicious, until he got off the main stream highway, 70 West, and it was close behind us in Zanesville, Ohio, the last town till we reached our destination, Newark, Ohio.

Looking back, we thought we had seen it a few times at The Would, where we were staying, The Would in Highland, New York. My daughter is one of the owners, and she had saved an apartment for us while we visited.

The apartment was vacant, with the exception of an old address book, that we really payed no attention to. It sat on a corner table in the living room, under a replica of a Tiffany lamp. I really never gave it more than a passing glance, but did notice once that there were many names and phone numbers in it.

Debra, my daughter, did mention that the previous tenant had been a rather strange, secretive man, who spoke very little, and kept primarily to himself. He left every morning at ten-thirty and always was back by three in the afternoon. On one occasion he ate dinner in The Would dining room, but spoke to no one. He stayed at The Would for three weeks, and regularly paid his rent, in cash, and on time.

We called New York soon after we arrived, to let them know we had made the trip safely, and for some reason I was going to ask what kind of a car the stranger had driven, but in my haste, I forgot to do it. I almost called them back, my curiosity about the white car was aroused. It probably was just a coincidence, so I dismissed it from my mind.

Then, that evening, I looked out the window, just in time to see a familiar white car heading out of our apartment complex, at a rather high rate of speed. Later on, on three occasions, our phone rang, no one on the other end, as if someone was checking to see that we were home.

To say the least, I was getting a little concerned. I didn't want to alarm Marilyn, but there were too many coincidences related to that white car, and it obviously had something to do with the address book in our room, at the apartment, at The Would, in New York, or at least, it seemed that way.

And that got me to thinking, and I looked, and sure enough, when we took our things off of that coffee table with the Tiffany lamp, the address book had accidentally been placed in my shoulder bag, with my laptop and some other items. We now had the address book, and I was getting the feeling that it had something to do with the mysterious white car.

Before we went to bed last night, I checked out the window, and saw no white car in the apartment parking lot, and had not heard any cars coming in, other than those of apartment dwellers, so we went to bed without giving the mysterious white car and the address book, another thought.

There was a rather severe storm last night, a lot of rain and wind, and I don't know what woke me up, but I looked over at our clock radio, and the power was off. I had not heard the storm, so I wondered what caused the electricity to be off. I didn't think much about it, so went back to sleep.

Later on, some noise woke me up, and I got up and looked out the window as a power truck went by, and shortly after that, I noticed, that the power went back on, as the clock radios were visible again. I glanced out again, and saw a white car make a quick turn, out of the parking lot, right behind the power truck.

I was concerned, but went back to bed, fell asleep, and thought nothing more of the incidents that had occurred during the night.

This morning, I was the first one up, but I didn't open the front blinds as usual. Our granddaughter had spent the night with us, and was asleep in the living room, so I didn't want the additional light to disturb her.

Around eight, Marilyn, my wife got up, and we had coffee together, and Caleb, our dog, started scratching at the door and obviously wanted out. Just then, the telephone rang, and another one of those mysterious calls, no one there. That brought back memories of the preceding night, the calls, the mysterious white car, the address book, all those memories came back.

As Marilyn opened the door to let Caleb out, I heard her say, "There's a box on the porch, and it's dry, must have been put there recently."

And then, she added as she looked out, "There goes that white car again,, that's odd."

It was a white box, about a foot square and a foot high. It was dry, so that meant it had been placed there since the rain.

"Well," Marilyn said, "are you going to see what it is?"

I cautiously walked out to the box, it looked innocent enough, and I slowly took the lid off, and looked inside.

"What is it?" Marilyn asked.

I paused, and said, "Bologna, like the rest of this story."

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