Some like to read a good story with ghosts in it. Some can see and communicate with the dearly departed. Me, I live with them and love to write stories about my friends.
I live in a 200+ year old farmhouse where I’m sure many lives walked the floorboards and took their last breath. But depending on how you look at it, it can be a good or bad thing. When I was newly married and I moved in, I always felt someone was watching me. You know the feeling, the skin on your back will crawl and tingle. And if you quickly turn around, you might see something out of the corner of your eye.
That’s me. I started to lose things too. I would put something on a shelf, only to have it show up in the oddest places. I finally asked my husband about what I’ve been experiencing and he said that he felt it too.
Most of the activity is in the kitchen where doors would open in succession, light bulbs would pop and an all-around feeling you are not the only one living in the house. I call the kitchen ghost, Les, since he is the only one that I know that died in the bathroom doorway. Though there are others here, quiet and you won’t notice them for long stretches of time.
The ghosts in the house are not the menacing type, but just going about their own business, maybe reading the paper or walking up the stairs.
I could go on but I’ll let you read more in my story, Bewitched, which has one of my ghosts’ in it. In my post yesterday, you read about Aunt Alice. She was a real person who lived here. She liked to collect alarm clocks, sheets, and of course pressure cookers. When my husband bought the house and moved in, her room was filled with her obsession.
So the next time you feel you are being watched and turn around to see who is there, make sure you say hello. You never know, they may say hello back.