Ghost Stories, Part 1
I spent the night at a friend’s house again last night, for what I think is about the third time in as many weeks. You see, my oven does not work, and I had to make my contribution to the office Thanksgiving dinner. And, well, her place is just so comfy and cozy, and she is such a good hostess and great friend – how could I not stay? I want to be her when I grow up, I want to have a home that’s always guest-friendly. (Or at least, friendly to guests who are comfortable around kids.) On the way over there, I was trying to figure out exactly why her apartment has such a good feeling to it, aside from her own natural charm and openness. About halfway there, it dawned on me.
Her apartment is not haunted. She has no ghosts.
It’s a newer complex, I guess, or an exceedingly lucky one. I’ve yet to find a residential building more than 20 years old that has no ghosts to it; most commercial ones do too. And of course, I bring my own ghosts wherever I go, so I’m never truly without them (mostly family, a few friends, so I have no reason to fear). Many people go through their entire lives not noticing the ghosts around them, and explaining away as coincidence the attendant oddities. For me, though, their presence is very similar to the refrigerator running. A steady, low hum that is so much a part of everyday life that you don’t notice it at all, until that moment when it stops, and the house moves from just plain quiet into an eerie silence. That’s what it’s like being at her house, except that it’s not an eerie silence, it’s a welcome one. Nice change of pace.
I have a friend who lives in Iowa, and once he had finished grad school and settled into his nice new job, he started shopping around for a “starter house.” He would IM me and send me links to listings on a real estate web site. We’d discuss the relative merits of square footage, amenities, garage size… and then I would tell him, “But you don’t want that one, it’s way too haunted” or “That one’s only got one ghost, anyway, and he’s a nice one!” At first he was a little taken aback. He didn’t really believe in ghosts, and he claimed he had never lived in a haunted house. “How old are you?” Mid-twenties. “And how many houses have you lived in, in your lifetime?” More than ten. “Then trust me, you’ve lived in a haunted house, you just didn’t know it.”
I used to babysit in a haunted house. The friend for whom I babysat later told me, after she had moved out of that house and I had moved out of the state, that she thought it had been haunted. I just looked at her and said, “Yeah, thanks for not warning me; I had to figure that one out on my own!” That house was on the same street where the Zodiac killer stalked one of his victims, BTW, and there’s another good story in that. My sister’s high school, which was adjacent to the CCD building and on the same grounds as our church and elementary school, was very haunted. And my mom lived in a haunted house when she was 13 – again, a story for a later time.
Yeah, some of you think I’m crazy(er) now.
And some of you know I’m right.
Her apartment is not haunted. She has no ghosts.
It’s a newer complex, I guess, or an exceedingly lucky one. I’ve yet to find a residential building more than 20 years old that has no ghosts to it; most commercial ones do too. And of course, I bring my own ghosts wherever I go, so I’m never truly without them (mostly family, a few friends, so I have no reason to fear). Many people go through their entire lives not noticing the ghosts around them, and explaining away as coincidence the attendant oddities. For me, though, their presence is very similar to the refrigerator running. A steady, low hum that is so much a part of everyday life that you don’t notice it at all, until that moment when it stops, and the house moves from just plain quiet into an eerie silence. That’s what it’s like being at her house, except that it’s not an eerie silence, it’s a welcome one. Nice change of pace.
I have a friend who lives in Iowa, and once he had finished grad school and settled into his nice new job, he started shopping around for a “starter house.” He would IM me and send me links to listings on a real estate web site. We’d discuss the relative merits of square footage, amenities, garage size… and then I would tell him, “But you don’t want that one, it’s way too haunted” or “That one’s only got one ghost, anyway, and he’s a nice one!” At first he was a little taken aback. He didn’t really believe in ghosts, and he claimed he had never lived in a haunted house. “How old are you?” Mid-twenties. “And how many houses have you lived in, in your lifetime?” More than ten. “Then trust me, you’ve lived in a haunted house, you just didn’t know it.”
I used to babysit in a haunted house. The friend for whom I babysat later told me, after she had moved out of that house and I had moved out of the state, that she thought it had been haunted. I just looked at her and said, “Yeah, thanks for not warning me; I had to figure that one out on my own!” That house was on the same street where the Zodiac killer stalked one of his victims, BTW, and there’s another good story in that. My sister’s high school, which was adjacent to the CCD building and on the same grounds as our church and elementary school, was very haunted. And my mom lived in a haunted house when she was 13 – again, a story for a later time.
Yeah, some of you think I’m crazy(er) now.
And some of you know I’m right.
posted by SaraSmile | 10:03 AM
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