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Soon, the book inspired a classic horror film, and to this day, many believe the events depicted in both the book. Afterwards Walter goes home and inexplicably shoots his wife and himself. Meanwhile Kat is trapped in a room with a ghost, and Dean is unable to. Characters describe exposition with beautifully leaden prose that sounds like a bunch of first graders were asked to do improv for the very first time. Click here to see what other pishfests made the.

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Cancel Unsubscribe. Movie Strip Countdown One of the welded hinges tore loose. The right door flew open!

Frantically Father Mancuso tried to brake the car. Then it stalled by itself. Shaken, he finally got to a telephone and reached another priest who lived near the Expressway. Fortunately the other cleric was able to drive Father Mancuso to a garage where he hired a tow truck to bring in the disabled car.

Back on the Expressway, the mechanic could not get the Ford to start. Father Mancuso decided to leave the vehicle at the garage and have his friend drive him on to the Sacred Heart Rectory.

Coming to almost the very end of his strength, George decided to complete the day's labor with something more pleasurable for himself. He'd rig his stereo up with the hi-fi equipment that the DeFeos had built into the livingroom. Then he and Kathy would have music to add to the joy of their first night in their new home. He'd barely begun the job, when Harry began an awful howling outside. Danny came rushing into the house, yelling that Harry was in trouble.

George ran out to the back fence to find the poor animal strangling. He had tried to jump over the fence and was now choking on his chain, which had looped across the top bar. George freed Harry, shortened the lead so the dog couldn't try that again, and returned to installing the stereo.

An hour after he was back in his quarters, Father Mancuso's telephone rang. It was the priest who had helped him out earlier. I couldn't stop them! I never turned them on, Frank! What the hell is going on? It had gotten colder outside, down to almost 6 degrees above zero. George burned some now-empty cardboard cartons in the fireplace, making a merry blaze.

It was the eighteenth of December, , the first of their twenty-eight days. He had heard a knock on his front door. He looked around in the darkness. For a moment, he didn't know where he was, but then it came to him. He was in the master bedroom of his new home.

Kathy was there, beside him, hunched down under the warm covers. The knock came again.

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George reached for his wristwatch on the night table. It was in the morning! Again a loud rapping. Only this time, it didn't sound as if it was coming from downstairs, more from somewhere off to his left.

George got out of bed, padded across the cold, uncarpeted floor of the hallway and into the sewing room that faced the Amityville River in the back. He looked out the window into the darkness. He heard another knock. George strained his eyes to see. Instinctively he ducked, then looked up at the ceiling. He heard a low squeak. The boys, Danny and Chris, were on the floor above him. One of them must have pushed a toy off his bed in his sleep. Barefooted and wearing only his pajama pants, George was shivering now.

He looked back out the window. Something was moving, down by the boathouse. He quickly lifted the window, and the freezing air hit him full blast. Who's out there? George, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, saw the dog spring to his feet. The shadow was close to Harry. Go get him! He began running back and forth in his compound, barking furiously now, the lead holding him back. George slammed the window shut and ran back to his bedroom. Kathy had awoken. I just want to take a look around out back.

Harry's onto something near the boathouse. Probably a cat. I'd better quiet him down before he wakes the whole neighborhood. Go back to sleep. Put your jacket on. When George came out the kitchen door, Harry was still barking at the moving shadow.

There was a length of two-by-four lumber lying against the swimming pool fence. George grabbed it and ran toward the boathouse. Then he saw the shadow move. His grip tightened on the heavy stick. Another loud rap. Knock it off!

As an ex-Marine, not too many years out of the service, he was fairly accustomed to emergency wake-up calls. It was taking him time to turn off his inner alarm system. Waiting for sleep to return, he considered what he had gotten himself into-a second marriage with three children, a new house with a big mortgage.

The taxes in Amityville were three times higher than in Deer Park. Did he really need that new speedboat? How the hell was he going to pay for all of this? The construction business was lousy on Long Island because of the tight mortgage money, and it didn't look like it would get better until the banks loosened up. If they aren't building houses and downloading property, who the hell needs a land surveyor?

Kathy shifted in her sleep, so that her arm fell across George's neck. Her face burrowed deep into his chest. He sniffed her hair. She certainly smelled clean, he thought; he liked that. And she kept her children the same way, spotless. Her kids? George's now. Whatever the trouble, she and the children were worth it. George looked up at the ceiling. Danny was a good boy, into everything. He could handle almost anything you gave him to do. They were getting closer, now.

Danny was now beginning to call his stepfather "Dad;" no more "George. Kathy said that Chris looked just like his father, had the same ways about him, the same dark, curly hair and eyes. George would reprimand the boy for something, and Chris's face would fall and he'd look up at him with those soulful eyes. The kid sure knew how to use them. He liked the way both boys looked after little Missy.

She was a little terror, but smart for a five year old. He'd never had any trouble with her from the first day he met Kathy. She was Daddy's girl, all right. Listens to Kathy and me. In fact, they all do. They're three nice kids I've got.

It was after six before George finally fell into a deep sleep. Kathy woke up a few minutes later. She looked around this strange room, trying to put her thoughts together. She was in the bedroom of her beautiful new home. Her husband was next to her and her three children were in their own bedrooms. Wasn't that marvelous! God had been good to them. Kathy tried to slip easily from under George's arm. The poor man worked so hard yesterday, she thought, and today he's got more ahead of him.

Let him sleep. She couldn't; she had too much to do in the kitchen and she had better get started before the kids got up. Downstairs, she looked around at her new kitchen.

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It was still dark outside. She turned on the light. Boxes of her dishes, glasses, and pots were piled up all over the floor and sink. Chairs were still sitting on top of the dinette table. But, she smiled to herself, the kitchen was going to be a happy room for her family. It might be just the place for her Transcendental Meditation, which George had been practicing for two years; Kathy, one.

He had been into TM ever since the breakup of his first marriage, when he had been attending sessions of group therapy; out of that grew his interest in meditation. He had introduced Kathy to the subject, but now, with all the work of moving in, he had completely ignored his established pattern of going off by himself into a room and meditating for a few minutes each day.

Kathy washed out her electric percolator, filled it, plugged it in, and lit her first cigarette of the day. Drinking coffee, Kathy sat at the table with a pad and pencil, making notes for herself on the jobs to be done around the house. Today was the nineteenth, a Friday. The kids would not go to their new school until after the Christmas holidays. There was so much still to do Kathy sensed someone was staring at her.

Startled, she looked up and over her shoulder. Her little daughter was standing in the doorway. You scared me half to death. What's the matter. What are you doing up so early? Her blonde hair hung across her face. She looked around, as if not understanding where she was. This is our new home. The two ladies of the house sat there in their pleasant kitchen, Kathy rocking her daughter back to sleep. George came down after nine. By that time, the boys had already finished their breakfast and were outside, playing with Harry, investigating everything.

Missy was asleep again in her room. Kathy looked at her husband whose big frame filled the doorway. She saw he hadn't shaved below his jawbone and that his dark blonde hair and beard were still uncombed.

That meant he hadn't showered. Aren't you going to work? I still have to unload the truck and get it back out to Deer Park. We blew an extra fifty bucks by keeping it overnight. Don't you have the heat on? George looked up.

Can't you keep them quiet, Kathy? You're their father, you know! You do it! The sharp sound made Kathy jump.

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George opened the kitchen door and leaned out. Danny, Chris, and Harry, whooping it up, ran by again. The three of you! Kathy was speechless. This was the first time he had really lost his temper with the children.

And for so little! He hadn't been in a bad mood the day before. George unloaded the U-Haul by himself, then drove it back to Deer Park, with his motorcycle in the rear so that lie could get back to Amityville.

He never did shave or shower and did nothing the rest of the day but gripe about the lack of heat in the house and the noise the children were making in their playroom up on the third floor. He had been a bear all day, and by eleven o'clock that night, when it was time to go to bed, Kathy was ready to crown him.

She was exhausted from putting things away and trying to keep the kids away from George. She'd start cleaning the bathrooms in the morning, she figured, but that was it for tonight. She was going to bed. George stayed down in the livingroom, feeding log after log into the roaring fireplace. Even though the thermostat read 75 degrees, he couldn't seem to get warm. He must have checked the oil burner in the basement a dozen times during the day and evening.

At twelve, George finally dragged himself up to the bedroom and fell asleep immediately. At in the morning, he was wide awake again, sitting up in bed.

There was something on his mind. The boathouse. Did he lock the door? He couldn't remember. He had to go out and check. It was closed and locked up. Over the next two days, the Lutz family began to go through a collective personality change. As George said, "It was not a big thing, just little bits and pieces, here and there. Normally George devoted as much time to his business as he could; two years before, he had had a second office in Shirley to handle contractors farther out on the South Shore.

But now he simply called Syosset and gave gruff orders to his men, demanding they finish some surveying jobs over the weekend because he needed the money. As for arranging to move his office to his new basement setup, he never gave it another thought.

Instead, George constantly complained the house was like a refrigerator and he had to warm it up. Stuffing more and more logs in the fireplace occupied almost his every moment, except for the times he would go out to the boathouse, stare into space, then go back to the house. Even now, he can't say what he was looking for when he went there; he just knew that somehow he was drawn to the place. It was practically a compulsion. The third night in the house, he again awoke at A. The children bothered him too.

Ever since the move, they seemed to have become brats, misbehaved monsters who wouldn't listen, unruly children who must be severely punished. When it came to the children, Kathy fell into the same mood.

She was tense from her strained relationship with George and from the efforts of trying to put her house in shape before Christmas. On their fourth night in the house, she exploded and together with her husband, beat Danny, Chris, and Missy with a strap and a large, heavy wooden spoon.

The children had accidentally cracked a pane of glass in the playroom's half-moon window. The town is right on the Atlantic side of Long Island and the sea wind blew in like a nor'easter.

The thermometer hovered at 8 degrees and media weathermen were forecasting a white Christmas. Inside Ocean Avenue, Danny, Chris, and Missy Lutz were up in the playroom, slightly subdued from the whipping the night before. George had still not gone to his office and was sitting in the livingroom, adding more logs to a blazing fire. Kathy was writing at her dinette table in the kitchen nook.

As she worked over a list of things to download for Christmas, her concentration wandered. She was upset about having hit the children, particularly about the way George and she had gone about it. There were many gifts the Lutz family still hadn't bought, and Kathy knew she had to go out and get them, but since they had moved in, she never had any desire to leave the house.

She had just written down her Aunt Theresa's name when Kathy froze, pencil in midair. Something had come up from behind and embraced her. Then it took her hand and gave it a pat. The touch was reassuring, and had an inner strength to it. Kathy was startled, but not frightened; it was like the touch of a mother giving comfort to her daughter.

Kathy had the impression of a woman's soft hand resting on her own! Come up here, quick! Kathy looked up. The spell was broken, the touch was gone. She ran up the stairs to her children.

They were in their bathroom, looking into the toilet.

Kathy saw the inside of the bowl was absolutely black, as though someone had painted it from the bottom to the edge just below the rim. She pushed the handle, flushing clear water against the sides. The black remained.

Kathy grabbed toilet paper and tried vainly to rub off the discoloration. I just scrubbed this yesterday with Clorox! Kathy was fit to be tied; the incident in the breakfast nook was forgotten.

She looked into the sink and bathtub, but they were still gleaming from her scouring. She turned on the faucets. Nothing but clear running water. Once more, she flushed the toilet, not really expecting the horrible black color to disappear. She bent down and looked around the base to see if anything was leaking through to the inside of the bowl.

Finally she turned to Danny. It's in the little closet under the sink. You stay here! Let Danny get it. Chris searched his mother's face, his eyes watering. Please don't hit me again. Something's happened to the water, I think. Maybe some oil backed up the line.

Didn't you notice it before? I saw it first! Well, let's see what the Clorox does before I call your father and he Kathy leaned out the bathroom doorway. I said it's under the sink! I found it!

But the black's in your toilet, too! And it stinks in here! Danny was standing outside the bedroom, holding his nose, when Kathy and the other two children came running down.

As soon as Kathy stepped into the bedroom, the odor bit her-a sweetish perfume smell. She stopped, sniffed, and frowned. That isn't my cologne.

Kathy gagged and started to cough, but before she ran, caught a glimpse of her toilet bowl. It was totally black inside! The children scrambled out of her way as she headed down the stairs. I'm busy! There's something in our bathroom that smells like a dead rat! And the toilet's all black! The other bathroom toilet bowl on the second floor was also black inside, as George discovered, but it had no smell. He sniffed the perfume in his room. Then he heard Kathy's voice. Look at this! One, which looks out at the boathouse and the Amityville River, was the window George had opened that first night when he had awakened at The other faces the neighboring house to the right of Ocean Avenue.

On this window, clinging to the inside of the panes, were literally hundreds of buzzing flies! House flies, now? Flies don't live that long, and not in this weather.

And why are they only on this window? There was a closet in one corner. He opened the door and peered in, looking for cracks; for anything that would make sense. But this wall's against the outside. I don't see any way they could have survived. He opened the other window overlooking the boathouse, then took some newspapers and chased out as many flies as he could. He killed those that remained, then he closed the window.

By then, it was freezing on the second floor, but at least the sweet perfume odor was gone. The bathroom stench had also diminished. This didn't help George in his efforts to warm his house. Though no one else was complaining, he checked the oil heating system in the basement. It was working fine. By four o'clock in the afternoon, the thermostat just off the livingroom read 80 degrees, but George couldn't feel the heat.

Kathy had scrubbed the toilet bowls again with Clorox, Fantastik, and Lysol. The cleaners helped somewhat, but a good deal of the black remained, stained deep into the porcelain. Worst of all was the toilet in the second bathroom next to the sewing room. The outdoor temperature had risen to 20 degrees and the children were out of the house, playing with Harry.

Kathy warned them to keep away from the boathouse and bulkhead area, saying it was too dangerous for them to play there without someone to watch them. George had brought in some more logs from the cord stacked in the garage and was sitting in the kitchen with Kathy.

They began to argue violently about who should go out to download the Christmas gifts. Kathy was about to mention the eerie thing that had happened to her in the nook that morning when the front doorbell rang. A man, who looked to be anywhere from thirty-five to forty-five because of his receding hairline, was standiDg there with a hesitant smile on his face and a six-pack 44 of beer in his hands.

His features were coarse and his nose was red from the cold. You don't mind, do you? It struck George that he didn't look like a neighbor who would own one of the large homes in the area. Before they even moved to Amityville, George and Kathy had considered the idea of having an open house, but once in the new house, they had never brought up the subject again.

George nodded to the one-man welcoming committee. If they don't mind sitting on cardboard boxes, bring them all. The man stood there, and repeated his speech to her. Kathy nodded. He continued by telling the Lutzes that he kept his boat at another neighbor's boathouse, several doors down on Ocean Avenue. The man held on to the six-pack and finally said, "I brought it, I'll take it with me," and left.

George and Kathy never found out his name. They never saw him again. That night when they went to bed, George made his usual check of all the doors and windows, latching and locking, inside and out. So, when he woke once more at in the morning and gave in to the urge to look downstairs, he was stunned to find the two hundred and fifty pound wooden front door wrenched wide open, hanging from one hinge! When she felt the chill in the house, she threw on a robe and ran downstairs to see her husband trying to force the heavy wooden slab back into its frame.

Here, look at this! The doorknob was twisted completely off-center. The metal facing was bent back as though someone had tried to pry it open with a tool, but from the inside! To open the door from in here, all you had to do was turn the lock.


There's nothing wrong with the knob or the outside plate. Somebody'd need an awful lot of strength to pull away a door this heavy and tear it off one of the hinges Somebody or something had to do this!

Kathy was the first to react. A small light in the shape of Yogi Bear was plugged into the wall near the bottom of the little girl's bed. In its feeble glow, Kathy glimpsed the form of Missy lying on her stomach. Missy whimpered, then turned over onto her back. Kathy let out a sigh of relief and tucked the covers up under her daughter's chin. The cold air that had come in while the front door was open had made even this room very chilly.

She kissed Missy on the forehead and silently slipped out of the room, heading for the third floor. Danny and Chris were sleeping soundly. Both were on their stomachs. I even remember I was almost going to say something to George, that it was kind of strange. It was cloudy, and the radio kept promising snow for Christmas. In the hallway of the Lutz home, the thermostat still read a steady 80 degrees, but George was back in the livingroom, stoking the fire to a roaring blaze.

He told Kathy he just couldn't shake the chill from his bones, and he didn't understand why she and the children didn't feel that way too. The job of replacing the doorknob and lock assembly on the front door was too complex for even a handy individual like George.

The local locksmith arrived about twelve, as he'd promised. He made a long, slow survey of the damage inside the house and then gave George a peculiar look, but offered no explanation as to how something like this could have possibly happened. He finished the job quickly and quietly. Upon leaving, his one comment was that the DeFeos had called him a couple of years before: "They were having trouble with the lock on the boathouse door.

George wanted to say more about the boathouse, but when Kathy looked at him, he held back. They didn't want the news spreading around Amityville that again there was something funny going on at Ocean Avenue. By two in the afternoon, the weather had begun to warm.

A slight drizzle was enough to keep the children in the house. George still hadn't gone to work and was in constant transit between the livingroom and the basement, adding logs and checking on the oil burner.

Danny and Chris were up in their third floor playroom, noisily banging their toys around. Kathy was back at her cleaning chores, putting shelf paper in the closets.

She had worked her way almost to her own bedroom on the second floor when she looked in Missy's room. The little girl was sitting in her diminutive rocking chair, humming to herself as she stared out the window that looked toward the boathouse. Kathy was about to speak to her daughter when the phone rang.

She picked up the extension in her own bedroom. It was her mother, saying that she would be over the next day--Christmas Eve-and that Kathy's brother Jimmy would bring them a Christmas tree as a housewarming gift. Kathy said how relieved she was that at least the tree would be taken care of, since she and George had been unable to rouse themselves to do any shopping at all.

Then, out of the comer of her eye, Kathy saw Missy leave her room and enter the sewing room. Kathy was only half listening to what her mother was saying; what could Missy possibly want in there, where all the flies had been the day before?

She could hear her five-year-old daughter humming, moving about some still unopened cardboard boxes. Kathy was about to cut her mother short when she saw Missy come back out of the sewing room. When the child stepped into the hallway and returned to her own bedroom, she stopped her humming. Puzzled by her daughter's behavior, Kathy wound up her conversation with her mother, again thanking her for the tree.

She hung up, walked silently toward Missy's room and stood in the doorway. Missy was back in her rocking chair, staring out the same window and humming again, a tune that didn't sound quite familiar. Kathy was about to speak when Missy stopped humming, and without turning her head, said, "Mama?

Do angels talk? The little girl had known she was there! But before Kathy could step into the room, she was startled by a loud crash from overhead. The boys were upstairs! Fearful, she raced up the steps to the playroom. Danny and Chris were rolling on the floor, locked in each other's arms, punching and kicking at each other. You stop this right now, you hear! Chris was crying in his anger. It was the first time, ever, that the two brothers had gotten into a fight.

She slapped each boy in the face-hard-and demanded to know what had started this nonsense. What are you fighting about? There was no answer from either boy. Both suddenly withdrew from their mother.

Whatever happened, Kathy sensed it was their affair not hers. Then her patience snapped. First it's Missy with her angels, and now you two idiots trying to kill each other! Well, I've had it! We'll just see what your father has to say about all this. You're both going to get it later, but right now I don't want to hear another peep out of either of you!

You hear me? Not another sound! Cool down, she told herself. As she passed Missy's room again, the little girl was humming the same strange tune to herself. Kathy wanted to go in, but then thought better of it and continued on into her own bedroom. She'd talk to George later when she had a chance to be calmer about the whole affair.

The Amityville Horror

Kathy picked up a roll of shelf paper and opened the door to the walk-in closet. Immediately a sour smell struck her nostrils. What's that? It was empty except for one thing. On the very first day the Lutzes had moved in, she had hung a crucifix on the inner wall facing the closet door, just as she had done when they lived in Deer Park. A friend had originally given her the crucifix as a wedding present.

Made of silver, it was a beautiful piece about twelve inches long and had been blessed a long time before. As Kathy looked at it now, her eyes widened in horror. She began to gag at the sour smell, but couldn't retreat from the sight of the crucifix-now hanging upside down! The eerie episodes of that day and night were still very much on his mind, but he had discussed them with no one-not with George and Kathy Lutz, not even with his Confessor.

During the night of the twenty-third, he had come down with the flu. The priest had alternated between chills and sweating, and when he finally got up to take his temperature, the thermometer read degrees. He took some aspirin, hoping to break the fever. This was the Christmas season, and with it began a host of clerical duties-a particularly bad time for a priest to be indisposed. Father Mancuso fell into a troubled sleep. Around four in the morning of Christmas Eve, he awoke to find his temperature now up to degrees.

He called the Pastor to his rooms. His friend decided to get a doctor. While Father Mancuso waited for the physician, he thought again of the Lutz family.

There was something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He kept envisioning a room he believed to be on the second floor of the house. His head swam, but the priest could see it clearly in his mind.

It was filled with unopened boxes when he had blessed the home, and he remembered he could see the boathouse from its windows. Father Mancuso recalls that while ill in bed, he used the word "evil" to himself, but thinks the high fever might have been playing tricks with his imagination. At the same time, in Amityville, Kathy Lutz was also thinking about the room on the second floor.

Every once in a while, Kathy felt the need for some time to be by herself, and this was to be her own personal room. She had also considered the room, along with the kitchen, for her meditation. That third bedroom on the second floor would also serve as a dressing room and storage place for her and George's growing wardrobes.

Among the cartons in the sewing room were boxes of Christmas ornaments that she had accumulated over the years. It was time to unwrap the balls and lights, get them ready to put on the tree her mother and brother had promised to bring over that evening. After lunch, Kathy asked Danny and Chris to bring the cartons down to the livingroom.

George was more interested in his fireplace logs and only halfheartedly worked on the Christmas lights, testing the many colored bulbs and disentangling their wires.

For the next few hours, Kathy and the children were busy unwrapping tissue paper that enclosed the delicate, bright-colored balls; the little wooden and glass angels, Santas, skaters, ballerinas, reindeer and snowmen that Kathy had added to each year as the children grew up.

Each child had his own favorite ornaments and tenderly placed them on towels Kathy had spread on the floor. Some dated back to Danny's first Christmas. But today, the children were admiring an ornament that George had brought to his new family. It was an heirloom, a unique galaxy of crescents and stars wrought in sterling silver and encased in 24 karat gold.

There was a fixture on the back of the 6-inch ornament that let one attach it to a tree. Crafted in Germany more than a century before, it had been given to George by his grandmother, who in turn had received it from her own grandmother. The doctor had come and gone from the Rectory. He confirmed that Father Mancuso did indeed have the flu and advised the ailing priest to remain in bed for a day or so. The fever was in his system and could remain high for another twenty-four hours.

Father Mancuso chafed at the idea of remaining idle. He had so much work to do. He agreed that upcoming items on his busy calendar could be put off for a week, but some of his clients in counseling could not afford the same kind of postponement.

Nevertheless, both the physician and the Pastor insisted that Father Mancuso would only prolong his illness if he insisted upon working or leaving his apartment. There was one thing he could still do, however, and that was to call George Lutz. The bad feeling he had about that second-floor room remained and it made him as restless as his fever. When he finally made the call, it was five p. Danny answered the telephone and ran to get his father.

Kathy was surprised by the call, but not George. Sitting by the fireplace, he had been thinking about the priest all lay. George had felt an urge to call Father Mancuso, but couldn't decide just what he wanted to say. He was sorry to hear of Father Mancuso's flu and asked if there was anything he could do. Assured there was nothing any man could do to relieve the priest's discomfort, George began to speak of what was happening at the house. At first it was a light conversation; George told Father Mancuso about bringing down the ornaments to trim the Christmas tree that Jimmy, his brother-in-law, would be delivering at any moment.

Father Mancuso interrupted George. Do you know the room on your second floor that faces the boathouse-the one where you had all those unopened boxes and cartons? That's going to be Kathy's sewing and meditation room when I get a chance to fix it up. Hey, you know what we found in there the other day? Hundreds of houseflies! Can you imagine, in the middle of winter! He got it. You have to stay out of there! What's up there?

Both men pulled back from their earpieces in surprise. George couldn't make out Father Mancuso's next words. All that remained was an irritating static noise.

I can't hear you! There must be a bad connection! He could hear the phone ringing, but no one picked it up. The priest waited for ten rings before finally giving up. He was very disturbed. When he could no longer hear Father Mancuso through the crackling, George had also hung up his receiver.

He waited for the priest to call back. For several minutes he sat in the kitchen and stared at the silent telephone. Then he dialed Father Mancuso's private number at the Rectory. There was no answer. In the livingroom, Kathy began wrapping the few Christmas gifts she had accumulated before moving to Amityville.

She had gone to sales at Sears and to the Green Acres Shopping Center in Valley Stream, picking up bargains in clothing for her children and other items for George and her family.

Sadly, Kathy noted that the pile of boxes was rather small and silently berated herself for not leaving the house to go out shopping. There were few toys for Danny, Chris, and Missy, but it was too late to do anything about it.

She had sent the children up to the playroom so she could work alone. She thought about Missy. She had not answered her daughter's question about talking angels. Kathy had put it off by telling Missy she'd ask Daddy about it. But it never came up when she and George went to bed.

Why would Missy come up with such an idea? Did it have anything to do with the child's peculiar behavior yesterday in her bedroom?

And what was she looking for in the sewing room? Kathy's concentration was broken when George returned from the phone in the kitchen. He had an odd expression on his face and was avoiding her gaze. Kathy waited for him to tell her about Father Mancuso when the front doorbell rang.

She looked around, startled. George, they're here already and I haven't even started supper! That evening, his face exuded a special warmth and charm. He was to be married on the day after Christmas and had asked George to be his best man. But when mother and son entered the house, Jimmy lugging a sizable Scotch pine, both their faces changed at the sight of George, who hadn't shaved or showered for almost a week. Kathy's mother, Joan, was alarmed. Then be and Jimmy hefted the tree into the livingroom.

That's some fire you've got going there! Maybe there's something wrong with your burner or thermostat? Come on down to the basement and I'll show you. Even though he was uncomfortable and his stomach hurt, the priest's mind kept turning to the strange telephone problems the Lutzes were having. It was now eight o'clock, and his repeated attempts to contact George had been fruitless.

Several times he had asked the operator to check to see if the Lutzes' phone was out of order. Each time it rang interminably until a supervisor called him back to report no service problems with the line. Why hadn't George called him back? Father Mancuso was sure George had heard what he said about the second floor room.

Was there now something terribly wrong?Aren't you going to work? He sniffed her hair. Kathy had awoken. He had tried to jump over the fence and was now choking on his chain, which had looped across the top bar. Startled, she looked up and over her shoulder. The eerie episodes of that day and night were still very much on his mind, but he had discussed them with no one-not with George and Kathy Lutz, not even with his Confessor. Superstitious people seize on psychic phenomena as justification for a sometimes unreasonable approach to life.

The program cut to reporter Steve Bauman investigating an allegedly haunted house in Amityville, Long Island.