Submitted by Vickie Gagnon

When I was in high school one of the places my parents rented was an old two story house that sat off the main road in town about a half mile.  The house was familiar to me because one of my dearest friends had lived there. But when we moved in, I quickly noticed things about the house that I had missed when Diana lived there.  The first thing was how cold the house was inside, even in the summer.  I also was uneasy being there by myself.  My sister and I shared one of the three upstairs bedrooms.  For some reason our room, which adjoined a room that was kept locked,  seemed to become sad feeling sometimes. Three of the boys had the next one.  

 The locked room was a mystery and one day I got the courage to peep into the key hole.  The room looked very old and dusty with sunlight shining through a dirty window.  In the dim light I could make out a baby carriage and some furniture odds and ends.  When Terri took her turn we both agreed that room was VERY old.

The house was not up to date with amenities, so we had to fall back to a simpler time.  One thing we had to do was bring in potable drinking and cooking water.  One night my parents went in to do that, leaving we two older girls as supervisors of the younger boys.  I can't remember now why, but for some reason we all started fighting.  It was like a switch had been turned on because the room seemed to flood with anger.  We have never fought like that before or since.  With some effort, we managed to stop and everyone began to quiet down. 

I was sitting next to one of the windows when suddenly a very loud long scream split the silence.  I remember feeling the hair on the back of my neck literally stand on end.  Terri's face went totally white and the youngest brother yelped. The sound was like a woman  screaming in great horror or fear, as if coming from her very soul.  Terri and I gathered our younger siblings on the sofa and were still there when Mom and Dad came back about twenty minutes later. 

We told Mom and Dad what had happened (carefully omitting the fight).  I remember the concern on Dad's face as he listened.  He quickly went outside and checked around the outside of the house but found nothing.  The next morning Mom told us that the scream had probably been a panther and not to be afraid.  Still, for unexplained reasons, all kids residing in the upper bedrooms were promptly moved downstairs and the upstairs was made off limits.

 Do I think it was a panther?  Not really.  My parents had both told us stories about these wild cats living in our area because it was heavily wooded.  Why do I doubt it?  Because that night, despite my own terror, the one thing I've always been aware of is that the scream came from overhead, from the second floor.  NOT outside.