I've got a new house, an old Victorian place. Out front in the fading evening, I talk to my brother Bill, and he says that there's something scary he feels about the house, but I brush it off.

Later at night, I'm asleep in my bed, with my son who is about 5 or 6 years old, and he wakes up and says he is cold, and it's caused by the wind coming from the guys in the jackets who are working out in the garage. I assure him, no, it's just a little cold, and it's because he's not under the covers. So I put the blankets over him and get close to him to warm him up.

My ear is against his skin, and through his body I can hear the voice of my brother Bill, saying "no, it's not the guys in the garage with the jackets".

Suddenly the door into the next room opens itself and a gust of chilly wind comes in. A red light from somewhere illuminates some drifting fog, and I get up and go around to the foot of the bed, on my way to investigate. My son, as if still asleep, murmers "see, it's those guys with the jackets, why don't you tell them to stop?"

And I say again... "no, son, believe me, it's not those guys in the garage with those jackets."