Monday, April 30, 2012

The House Ghost

Odd Occurrences Before the Move

The first time we visited the house, it was a cold and windy afternoon in mid-February.  We explored all over the ground floor, upstairs in the loft, the backyard, and we ended up in the living room with our realtor.  While we were standing there, the front door opened on its own.  I didn’t think too much of it because of the wind, until that following week…

It was the next Wednesday when I received word that the house was ours for the taking.  My realtor called me and said that he had just emailed the agreement to me.  He advised me to print it out, review it with Kit, and then turn everything in, along with our deposit, the next day.  I just happened to be home this day, so I immediately went to our computer and proceeded to print out the 28-page document.  About seven or eight pages in, the computer shut itself off.  I thought it was a bit odd, but I powered the computer back up and found the place where the printing stopped.  I resumed printing, and several pages later, the computer shut itself off once more.  I was beginning to get weirded out, but I figured there must be a logical explanation for it.

I powered up the computer again, found the place where the printing had stopped and resumed printing for a third time.  Several pages later, the printer stopped—it was suddenly out of ink.  I had to run out to the store to purchase more cartridges, and then the remainder of the agreement finally printed without trouble.  I stacked the agreement neatly and placed it on our coffee table in the living room, then I went back to our dining room where I had been packing some dishes and other things we weren’t going to use prior to the move.

Vinnie and Reggie’s crates were also located in the dining room, so the pups were there with me.  For most of February, we had unseasonably mild weather, and I had windows and the patio doors open.  While packing, I heard someone’s television turn on—I figured I could hear it since the patio doors were open.  It was an hour or so later when I finished what I intended to pack that day, and I went into our bedroom to discover that it was actually our television that had been turned on.  I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up—I hadn’t been in our bedroom since that morning, and nothing like this has ever happened before.  If a neighbor’s remote could have somehow triggered our television to turn on, you would think that it would've happened some other time in the seven years we had lived there.  But no, this was the first time, and I was home alone.  I unplugged the bedroom television, and we didn't use it the rest of our time at the condo—and, thankfully, it never turned itself on again.

Any of that day’s events, on their own, could be filed under coincidence; however, all of those occurrences in conjunction, and within only a couple of hours’ time, had me beginning to believe I was receiving some sort of sign.  Could there be a presence that either didn’t want us in its house, or a presence that simply didn’t want us to leave the condo?

I spoke with my dad and with a close friend, and [whether they meant it or not] they both told me that, while these events were indeed oddly timed, they should not be a determining factor on whether or not we move out of the condo and into the house.  I was frustrated because I was completely freaked out [I still get goosebumps now just remembering how I felt that afternoon], but I really, really wanted the house.  We opted to proceed with the move.


Odd Occurrences Since the Move

The house was built in 1933—it’s 79 years old.  We have adjusted to some of the house’s settling noises and hardwood floor creaks, but there have been a few weird noises that have gone unexplained.  Closet doors open themselves, lights are the opposite of how we remember leaving them—we find some on, that we are sure we had turned off, or vice versa.  The attic door is accessed through the loft, and I’ve seen it sitting open after I’ve closed and locked it earlier in the same day.

Thankfully, I was not at the house to witness the creepiest event which occurred last Saturday morning.  I was out at the market and the pups were still in the bedroom with Kit, who was still snoozin’.  Kit heard one of their toys squeak in the living room—no one else was in the house, and the toys have never squeaked on their own before.  I would have lost my shit if that happened on my watch.

We have not heard a voice telling us to “Get out!” or noticed any bleeding from the walls, so hopefully things will be alright.  I can cohabitate with a spirit, as long as it is not evil and means no harm, it stays up in Kit’s loft, and it doesn’t keep opening the damn attic door and running up my electric bill.  And if it doesn’t turn on the gas and explode the house, that would be great, too.

Why can’t it just go live with Tommy in the garage!?


Possible Origins

I had dinner with a close friend a few weeks before we moved into the house.  In my excitement of the pending move, I was showing him photos of the house and explaining the layout when he interrupted me to get clarification on its location and neighborhood.  I explained where it was, and he began asking questions about the layout—“…right, so from the living room, there is a hallway with the guest bath here, the master bedroom there, and then the loft is over this way, right?”  He knew this house.  He had been there before—a lot more than he led me to believe initially [Which I found out recently.  Yeah, that’s right, I know how much you were really in that house, Friend!].

Apparently, 8-10+ years ago, someone owned the house and it was quite a popular venue for parties.  Parties = Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll…lots of all of those, and not necessarily in that order.  And I bet there was booze, too!  My friend revealed that he had been to the house for a party or two back then, and he had engaged in acts of paramour while there.  In my house.

A friend of mine had relations in my house before I did.  It was quite funny to think about, while trying not to think too far into detail about it, that this had all transpired.  What a coincidence!  Who knew I would find this house 10 years later and decide to live in it.

Due to the oddity of it all, my friend shared this information with some mutual friends, and word got around.  I was out shopping one Sunday afternoon when I received a text from one of these mutual friends which read, “Girl, I’m going to bring some sage for us to burn out those 90s gay sex ghosts from your house!”  When I finished peeing my pants, I told him that I may need to take him up on that offer.

We may never know the exact origin of our house ghost, but if it has anything to do with the wild gay parties of the 90s, that would at least explain why the closet doors randomly open.

Friday, April 20, 2012

The Midnight Intruder

We fell asleep in the living room last night watching television.  Sometime around midnight, we woke up just enough to turn out lights and waddle ourselves to the bedroom.  Kit, Vin and I laid in bed, drifting back off to sleep, and Reggie was nestled in his "night-night" crate next to the bed.

It was completely dark and silent when I suddenly heard the tap, tap, tapping of claws walking on the hardwood floors in our bedroom.  At first I had assumed that Vinnie jumped off of the bed and was roaming around the room.  To check, I stretched my leg towards the foot of the bed.  When my toes touched fur, I knew Vinnie was laying with us.  So what the hell was on our floor?

My insane imagination began conjuring up ideas about what had somehow gotten into the house and was preparing to devour us in our slumber--I narrowed it down to either a squirrel or a giant rat.  Oh, God, what if it had been a possum!?  If it were a rat, it would've been absolutely huge because it sounded like the animal had to weigh several pounds.  Whatever it was, I was almost certain it had rabies.

I told Kit to stand on the bed to turn on the ceiling fan light so we could see what we were dealing with—I had no idea what to do if either of those animals were actually standing in our room.  Some people stash firearms and cash between their mattresses; thoughts were racing through my mind about, "if only I had thought to keep a net and tranquilizer gun there for this very moment…"  That would have been convenient.

The animal intruder must have known where we were in the room—it must have heard us talking—because it approached our bed to greet attack us.  It turned out to be Reggie, wagging his tail and surely wondering why no one had put him to bed.  Kit and I both assumed that the other had put him up for the night.  It took a while, but my heart finally stopped pounding and I was able to drift back off to sleep.