This story takes place in 2006 when my [then] boyfriend’s mother decided to have a garage sale. However, it wasn’t just one person selling their unwanted stuff, it involved an entire neighborhood. I contributed a lot of my own stuff to the sale and managed to short-change myself out of forty dollars, but that’s not creepy. This is why there should always be two people present when selling stuff at a garage sale. The stuff donated was massive, and in the mix of things, names get jumbled, who owns what is Greek to me. I had my pen and paper and the initials on some of the price tags was so tiny, it was difficult to read.
Two nights before the sale was due to start I had bought three wall plaques made by a company called ‘Putti”. And these three cherub plaques were gold painted plaster and embossed on a red velvet inlay. And the farmer that sold them to me said he just got done wheeling and dealing for a major antique barn haul from a family that hoarded everything in their barn. This story didn’t sound out of the ordinary.
I brought the plaques home and began to gently clean them because they had been residing in an old barn since who knew when. The date these Putti cherub plaques were produced was likely from the 40s/ early 50s. While I was cleaning them, a very odd—and I do mean– cold impression swept through my being. I tried to shrug it off figuring I had worked hard getting things ready for the upcoming sale and was tired.
One cherub played a trumpet, the other a harp and the third, a violin. Their expressions almost seemed mischievous in an evil sort of way instead of being ethereal or ‘heavenly’. I proceeded to clean off the layers of grime and cobwebs (ewww!) without disturbing the gold-washed finish.
The more I delved into this little project, the more my senses alerted me that something wasn’t right with these cherub plaques. That little voice of reason was practically screaming for me to quit what I was doing and get these plaques out of the house, pronto!
The cold impression I perceived quickly turned into a sense of deep grief, sadness, ill-tidings and gloom almost like when something bad’s about to happen only without an eerie soundtrack playing in the back ground. It was those kinds of feelings. Normally I don’t ignore my feelings and this time I did, for a while at least. The plaques were left on the table overnight. I assured myself it was just my overworked imagination and I’d have a different view after breakfast.
Well… I still received the same deep sense of sadness, gloom, ill-tidings and grief– a lot of that emanating from these otherwise harmless-looking ‘cherubs’ as I did the night before.
I really didn’t know what possessed me to buy those cherub plaques and wish I had snapped a picture of them because they were seriously creepy in appearance. Rather than slap them up on eBay and list them as “haunted”, I decided to send them to the trash early the next morning. I didn’t know who owned these cherubs plaques until the next day. I caught the farmer bringing in another haul and setting it up for the garage sale in a building across the street. I asked him who owned the cherub plaques under the guise I was interested in the provenance (history of the items).
The farmer just chuckled and unloaded a galvanized wash tub, laundry dinger (primitive hand-held laundry agitator), and a few more ruined antiques that the weather, mice, wasps, spiders and time destroyed and then he said to me, “Oh, I forgot to tell you those plaques belonged to a family who were in the funeral home business for many generations. Their family goes way back to the 1850’s and they never parted with anything.”
Now you tell me. I thought.
I thanked him for his time and we proceeded on with the garage sale. I never did see any other plaques like those 3-demensional cherubs and was quite thankful I never ran across any again. I have no idea if these particular plaques were haunted as the information of exactly ‘who’ owned them was never disclosed. But knowing that they came from a family-owned funeral home was in itself creepy. It took a while for the creepy feelings to go away in the atmosphere, and when it had, I was so relieved. So, in closing, be very careful what you buy at garage sales. Thanks for reading! 🙂