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.
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