A wee ghost story
tara_incognito asked tonight about whether the people on her friends list believe in ghosts, and that combined with having talked about that house my mom finally moved out of along with the diet drinks made me think of this.
Shortly before she finally moved, my mom, giggling in her characteristic somewhat maniacal way, said, "Do you think we have a ghost?"
From the time we moved in, several times a night, you would hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the stairs. Not creaks and shifts; it was a steady thump-thump-thump that would progress along the hallway and finally cause the boards at the top of the steps to creak as they only did when rather a lot of weight was placed on them. At the beginning, we would always go and look, wondering if someone was actually home even though we'd thought we were there alone. But after a while, we just got used to it.
My sister, who is not one to hyperbolize about such things, swears up and down that things would move from the place she'd left them. She told me--and this was much later, when I off-handedly mentioned Mom's suggestion, and my sister leapt to concur with it--"I would know I had put something down, like in the middle of my bed. Then it wouldn't be there. I'd look everywhere, and I'd look in that place I was sure I'd left it ten times, and then I would find it, right where I knew I'd left it."
Now, I was quite oblivious to all this stuff; I didn't believe in ghosts at all at the time, nor did I want to. I lived in that house from age ten to age twenty; so after I'd left the question was more or less moot, and before I arrived, I was kind of too young to know how these things worked. I do seem to recall losing things and "misplacing" them much more often than I thought natural, but I blamed it on myself, or the cleaning lady, or Mom sneaking into my room, or whatever. I will say, it doesn't happen anymore!
Mind you, my mother is a person unlikely to believe in such things--I mean, a huge part of the reason I never suggested it myself--indeed, that it scarcely ever occurred to me--was that I was certain she would have soundly ridiculed the notion. In any case, when Mom finally asked that question, she admitted she had believed for years that we must have a ghost. She giggled, "But I didn't want to tell you until we were about to move." And I'm really glad she did that.
hee hee--while I was finishing that up, I heard all this creaking and shifting and scrabbling near my door--I mean LOTS, CERTAINLY not just a house shifting--and I was kind of all freaked out, writing this post. ... And then Mattie finally managed to get her door open (our doors stick); it was her! Phew!
Shortly before she finally moved, my mom, giggling in her characteristic somewhat maniacal way, said, "Do you think we have a ghost?"
From the time we moved in, several times a night, you would hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the stairs. Not creaks and shifts; it was a steady thump-thump-thump that would progress along the hallway and finally cause the boards at the top of the steps to creak as they only did when rather a lot of weight was placed on them. At the beginning, we would always go and look, wondering if someone was actually home even though we'd thought we were there alone. But after a while, we just got used to it.
My sister, who is not one to hyperbolize about such things, swears up and down that things would move from the place she'd left them. She told me--and this was much later, when I off-handedly mentioned Mom's suggestion, and my sister leapt to concur with it--"I would know I had put something down, like in the middle of my bed. Then it wouldn't be there. I'd look everywhere, and I'd look in that place I was sure I'd left it ten times, and then I would find it, right where I knew I'd left it."
Now, I was quite oblivious to all this stuff; I didn't believe in ghosts at all at the time, nor did I want to. I lived in that house from age ten to age twenty; so after I'd left the question was more or less moot, and before I arrived, I was kind of too young to know how these things worked. I do seem to recall losing things and "misplacing" them much more often than I thought natural, but I blamed it on myself, or the cleaning lady, or Mom sneaking into my room, or whatever. I will say, it doesn't happen anymore!
Mind you, my mother is a person unlikely to believe in such things--I mean, a huge part of the reason I never suggested it myself--indeed, that it scarcely ever occurred to me--was that I was certain she would have soundly ridiculed the notion. In any case, when Mom finally asked that question, she admitted she had believed for years that we must have a ghost. She giggled, "But I didn't want to tell you until we were about to move." And I'm really glad she did that.
hee hee--while I was finishing that up, I heard all this creaking and shifting and scrabbling near my door--I mean LOTS, CERTAINLY not just a house shifting--and I was kind of all freaked out, writing this post. ... And then Mattie finally managed to get her door open (our doors stick); it was her! Phew!