The Haunting of 112 Randolph Street

When I finished the first draft of this story, I was so weary and wrung out that I collasped into bed. My dog took his usual place beside me on the floor. Somewhere between slumber and half awake, I felt a presence of a black form hanging over me: It had many arms and was made of netting. Whether I saw it or just felt it, one thing happened and that was that I could not move. As much as I tried to move from my side to the edge of the bed, it wouldn’t happen. At that point my dog barked and growled. I managed to finally move and got out of bed and the bedroom. My dog followed. Explained what had happened to a friend of mine and she told me to google “Black Shadows.” Unfortunately or fortunately I did and secured many containers of salt and poured the contents into three bowls that were sitting in my bedroom. Those bowls of salt are still there to this day. Whether you the reader believes this or not, it did happen. And it is all related to my writing about 112 Randolph Street. I had conjured up the spirits. Plain and simple.