We bought a house in the older area of the little town. The houses on that two-block neighborhood were on quarter-acre lots, made of brick on all four sides, and were spacious. The owner had passed away and the heir had inherited several houses and wanted to liquidate all the properties, so he sold the house to us at a ridiculously low price.
The real estate agent knew the deceased and told us she had passed away within days after one of the neighbors found her ill inside the house. Her husband had died several years previous and their one son had died in a war a long time ago, probably Vietnam.
My first husband and I divorced, the dog and cat died, and the three kids grew up and moved away in the fourteen years I lived in that house, but I never felt alone.
There were lots of times I felt, heard, or saw movement inside the house, but when I went to check, there was nothing or no one there.
One time I was standing at the sink washing dishes and saw movement out of the corner of my right eye. A person came out of the bedrooms, crossed the living room, and stood on my left as I scrubbed at a dish. Thinking it was one of the kids, I turned to joke with them if they wanted to rinse or dry the dishes, but there was no one there when only a moment before I had seen and felt a real presence.
There were many times, mostly in the evening or at night, when I saw a shadow move that I knew was my “ghost.” The lady across the street complimented me one day as we both worked on our front yards that the owner would be pleased with the way I cared for her house, so after that I would talk to the empty rooms, letting my ghost know that I was taking care of our home and she could rest easy.
In a way, we had both ended up alike – lonely females in a lovely old house.
One evening I became so engrossed in a novel that I read far into the night. As I lay on my bed I noticed a flash of white in the darkened hallway. I got up and followed it, thinking one of my kids had seen the bedroom lights on from the street and had come to visit. Barely out of their teens, they sometimes would drop by and crash at my house, especially if they were troubled.
In the dark, I could see the flash of white turn into the living room/kitchen area. By the time I got there, its luminescence was visible outside on the back patio. I did not have time to turn on lights if I wanted to catch my child’s attention so I rushed to the back door.
It was then I noticed movement around the Morgan building in the back yard. Three shadows lurked back there. I took a step away from the door when I noticed it was unlocked. In my carelessness, I had not secured the house for the night before becoming engrossed in my novel. I quickly latched the door, turned on the outside security lights, and raced to the alarm system that armed the perimeter. If the trespassers tried to get in, the alarm would blare, alerting the neighbors.
The three scurried away, one jumping the back fence, the two others ran toward the side of the house. I did not waste time and ran to the other outside doors making sure they were all locked. I stayed awake, alert the rest of the night until I saw the sun rise.
I never doubted afterwards who the flash of white was in my hallway. My friendly ghost kept constant watch over her house and me. She wanted me to know I was in danger. She led me to the unlocked back door. She saved my life.
I don’t remember any more apparitions after that, but on that last day when the house was empty and all my junk was ensconced in my new home far away, I said goodbye to her. I stood in the middle of that big kitchen/dining/living room and thanked her for sharing her home with me.