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Tranquility is the name of a house on Gay Street in our little village of Washington. It is the setting for the true story that I am about to tell.
My son Robin was living in the ! basement of Tranquility while he was repairing the house for the owner. This, I believe, was about 13 years ago. This story should be interesting to the present owner and to any other nearby residents who are students of the occult.
• I must first provide some background. At that time I was keeping company with a woman named Mary Anne. She was an intelligent, attractive and pleasant person. We had known one another for several years. She had three sons. Two of the sons lived with her and the oldest, who was 22 years old, lived by himself close by. I had met with the oldest boy only once and then briefly.
It was a warm and pleasant fall Sunday. Mary Anne and I had been traveling in the Massenuttens. On the way back to Arlington, where we both lived,' • I decided to stop and see Robin at Tranquility. It was about dusk. Since the visit would be brief Mary Anne decided to wait in the car.
I estimate that I was in the basement with Robin for about 10 minutes and then returned to the car. The mystery begins. Mary
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