Something Scary on TV
The Evenson family’s first television was a black and white machine, and it was small—its screen a mere thirteen inches. However, it must have weighed seventy pounds. It picked up exactly three channels, although the reception wasn’t great on any of them. Furthermore, there was no remote control for this ancient electronic device. In order to activate it, one had to stand, walk to it and pull the knob.
The family’s oldest son, Scott, loved that television. For him, Friday night was the best part of every week. That was when his family gathered inside the living room of their small home near Madison, ate pizza and watched whichever channel came in the clearest.
The following years brought new technologies. Soon Scott’s family had a color console TV, and the black and white box was moved into the kitchen. Then, in 1983, when Scott was twelve years old, the television was relegated to the upstairs bedroom he shared with his brother, Max.
Most children Scott’s age would have been thrilled with a TV, and at first Scott was no different. However, all of that changed just a few days after the machine was moved to the second floor. That’s when the haunting began.
It was a typically steamy July night, so Scott had been granted permission to leave a fan running in the bedroom window. It didn’t help; he fell asleep sweating. But strangely, when Scott awoke at 1 a.m., he was chilled to the bone.
The boy crawled out of bed and scurried toward the fan in order to shut it off. But he only made it halfway to the window.
Click!
Scott heard the TV’s knob being pulled. He swung around to scold his brother, but Max was still in bed—asleep. Scott could only watch in terror as the screen came to life, illuminating the room. The TV was on, but no one had touched the controls!
The screen’s black and white static reminded Scott of Poltergeist, one of his family’s favorite horror films. The mental connection served only to heighten his fright.
Forgetting his younger brother, Scott darted into the hall and down the stairs. He burst into his parents’ room and dove onto their bed. “Mom, Dad, wake up!”
“What is it, honey?” his mother asked sleepily, as she rolled onto her side.
Scott tried to speak, but all he could do was mutter, “Upstairs... ghost.”
The boy’s parents calmed Scott and waited as he explained what had happened. They led him back to his room, where the fan was still running but the TV was off (and Max was sound asleep).
“See? It was just a bad dream,” his mother whispered. “Everything is as normal as can be.”
His father walked over to the fan and unplugged it. “There you go, buddy. Now hop into bed. You’ll be asleep in a snap.”
By the time his parents left the bedroom, Scott was convinced that nothing extraordinary had happened. And if that had been the end of the tale, he probably would have lived the remainder of his life believing it. However...
Click!
The TV was on again.
It was the fourth night this week that the knob had been pulled by an invisible force. But this time was no less scary than the first.
Scott and Max screamed. Then, once again, they raced to their parents’ bed.
Mom and Dad were not pleased to see them.
“That’s it!” exclaimed Mr. Evenson. “I’ve had enough of this ghost business. Tomorrow, I’m taking that TV to the secondhand store.”
True to his word, Scott’s father removed the television from the house early the next morning. And with the machine gone, the Evenson brothers’ ghostly encounters came to an abrupt end.