A Ghost Story

I have decided that Michael's house is haunted. I know that some people scoff at the idea of ghosts, spirits, leftover energy, whatever you want to call them. And everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But my opinion is that there are such things as the supernatural and there's something in Michael's house. Hear me out.

There have been a few times that I have actually heard someone talking to me while I am almost asleep. It's been a whisper here and there, and an actual quiet voice here and there. It doesn't scare me, it doesn't make me feel uncomfortable or anything like that, so I don't even mind it. Which may sound wierd considering that something is talking to me when I'm at Michael's house alone. But I just don't get a bad feeling about it.

With my whole living situation, Michael and I have decided to cohabitate. Live together. I'm moving in. (Wahoo!) Michael decided that since I'll be living there and he's gone a lot that he'd feel more comfortable with me having a shotgun handy. He sat me down and went through the process with me. It's ingrained in my head now. Push up button, cock it (click click!), flip off the safety, push the button for the flashlight if needed, and BOOM! I have a small fear of guns, but only because I don't understand them. Knowing how to protect myself if it came down to it feels good. So I am armed and dangerous now when it comes to someone trying to break in to rape and kill me.



Anyways, so I had brought over some bags of clothes to Michael's house last night. I threw some clothes in the washer and went outside to read. After the insistent beep-beep of the washer letting me know it was done, I went back downstairs to throw the clothes in the dryer. That was when I heard someone walking around upstairs. I'm not kidding, I'm not exagerating, whatever. Someone was walking around upstairs and that's a fact. I felt real terror. My heart started pumping, I started sweating. Pictures of me raped and killed flashed through my head. I thought about how it would hurt my friends and family. I wondered who would find my body. I'm not kidding, people- these are actual thoughts that I had while I was just standing there frozen in terror. And then I got pissed. The shotgun is in the bedroom upstairs. I was stuck in the landry room downstairs. How was I going to get to the gun? I looked around the landry room for something, anything, to defend myself and give me the distraction I needed to get to the gun. The only thing I found was a can of brake parts cleaner which we use as spider-killer. So I grabbed the can and shook it to get it ready. I crept up the stairs as silently as I could. I couldn't see anyone in the kitchen so I made my way to the bedroom. Dropped the break-parts cleaner and grabbed the shotgun. Got it all ready to be fired with the exception of the safety, as I wouldn't want to panic at something stupid and shoot a hole in Michael's wall. I looked like a bad-ass, actually. Little 5 foot tall, 95 pound me with a big old shotgun. Anyways, so I went through the entire apartment checking the closets and dark corners. Nothing. Both the front and back doors were still locked up tight. The place was empty. At least it was empty of a living breathing human being (other than myself, obviously).

Now if I had been drinking or sleeping, I could tell myself that I imagined it. But I genuinely did not imagine this. I don't have a super-active imagination that actually makes me imagine sounds and the like. It was real.

I'm not scared of the ghost walking around and talking to me. I just wish it would do it a little more quietly so I didn't assume I was going to be violently attacked. Maybe if I ask nicely????

Much Love!