A Language You Can See

I first visited the "area" in June of 1999. I was asked by a friend to look into some "strange happenings" in the attic of the old W.L. Blake building on Commercial St. in Portland, ME. The building was like any other building in the area, not very impressive but had a nice homey feeling to it. That was on the outside. Upon entering the building I was overcome with a feeling of unease. A macabre sense of stillness. I still have trouble shaking it.

Determined, I went to the reception desk and asked where I could find the attic. A young woman looked up and stared at me for what seemed like seconds but couldn’t have been more than seven minutes. I asked if there was a problem, which, upon finishing my sentence, snapped her back from a sort of strange state of mild unconsciousness. She said, "Upstairs," pointing with her right index finger while looking at me. I thanked her and started my descent.

I was almost to the attic when I first heard them, bewildering sounds of woe. My hands reflexively clutched the sides of my head as I sank to the floor. I was awakened moments later by the receptionist. She asked if I wanted a glass of water. I politely asked who she was and inquired about my whereabouts. She proceeded to tell me that the two of us had spoken only a short while ago, and that I was at the W.L. Blake building. Slowly, I remembered but I didn’t lead on. I got up, grabbed my coat and hat and ran out on to the street. Having no reason for doing this I went back inside; thanked her and left quietly.

My next visit to the "area" was a little more troubling than the first. I managed to slip past the receptionist and went to find the attic once more. I knew that I was getting close when I heard the muffled sounds from before. Muffled because I was wearing earmuffs this time around, for obvious reasons.

As I drew closer to the door that leads to the attic, I put my hand out in an effort to "feel" the room. As I did this I experienced a strange sense of awareness. This wasn’t to frighten me, but to welcome my arrival. I felt calm, lucid even. I grabbed the handle and proceeded to walk in.

When I entered the room my vision was immediately accosted by white light. Maybe ‘light’ isn’t the right word here. It was something that lingered but wasn’t forthright. More like a white shadow. I closed my eyes and wiped my forehead with my forearm. Timidly, I opened my eyes. Nothing. I shifted my head to the ceiling. Again, nothing. I heard a whisper. I looked over my right shoulder. A whisper in my left ear. I turned. Nothing. Something grabbed my arm. Hesitantly, I looked down. Whatever was holding my arm was not visible. Just as I finished realizing that I could feel something holding my arm but couldn’t see it, it was gone. A bright flash occurred. I shielded my eyes, then felt myself standing on something.

Upon investigation I realized that I had stepped on a cord. A cord with a switch. I had turned on a floodlight. I shut the light off. Darkness. I felt dizzy. Then I saw it. Across the way by the windows, the lighter part of the room. It was hiding. Something that quite possibly hid in the light. I first entered the attic unexpectedly, surprising the enigma. But now… now it had fled to lighter areas of the room to hide.