I think the We Are Wedges studio is haunted. I don't have any proof of this, but I think it's true all the same.
Often, I'm working late into the night, designing and sewing Wedges to send all over the world. For the longest time, I thought I was hearing things. Scratching noises. Creaking. At first, I assumed the cats had just gotten into the studio again. They can be pretty devious. But one night, I was getting some fabric out of the closet, and things got a bit weird.
One of the closets in the studio is under a staircase that leads up to the ground level floor. The closet door is directly below the top of the staircase above, so the closet ceiling gets lower and lower the further back you go in the closet. I was rooting around in there, looking for the purple velvet for some new
Octos, and I heard the stairs creaking.
But I was the only one in the studio.
I kind of freaked out a little bit, and needless to say I was done Wedging for the evening. Over the next few weeks, I calmed down a bit, and had written off the incident as a result of too much late night coffee (I've since cut back a bit). But, a few weeks later, I was working late again, this time the closet door was closed. And I heard the scratching again. Like fingernails on a chalkboard. Coming from the closet. I fled the room without opening the closet and it was several hours before I went back to the work at night.
A few weeks later, I was speaking to an elderly lady who lives in the same building as the We Are Wedges studio. She had been in the building for years, long before I arrived. She asked what unit I was in, and when I told her, her face went white, and she broke of the conversation politely and quickly walked (hobbled) away.
What's up with my studio?
I decided to do some detective work, and spoke to a few of my other neighbours I hadn't yet met. I ran into a man a few doors down at the mailbox and asked him if he knew anything about the tenants in my unit. He responded that as far as he knew the unit was vacant. He said it had been vacant til that boy died, and it would probably be vacant for quite some time.
!!!!!!!!!
Trying to retain my composure, I asked what boy he was talking about. He told me that the former tenants had a boy that they couldn't or wouldn't take care of, and they had been locking him in the basement closet, under the staircase, as punishment. The details are fuzzy from there, but the end of the story is that the parents went to jail, the boy is no longer with us, and I'm the new tenant.
This is a bit too weird to believe. But then again, I've always wondered why there was a latch lock on the
outside of the closet door when I moved in here...