In honour of October and Halloween, I thought I would tell my one ghost story. What I am going to do next year at this time I do not know, but who knows maybe something will happen to me from here to there.
It happened in the first apartment my wife and I lived in. This goes way back before we were married. I was a young man of about 24 or 25. It was a cute two bedroom, the kitchen and living room were open to each other with a hallway that ran down the middle of the place. When you came in the front door the bedrooms were on the left, living room and kitchen on the right, bathroom at the end of the hall. It was over a storage garage.The building, a square stucco design painted yellow, was set back from the road by a long driveway, to the right was the lawn and a big maple tree.
I have fond memories of this place, one of the first places the young woman who would become my wife and I called home. In fact it was in this place that we held our engagement party. At the time we only had my eldest daughter who would have been around 6 or 7 if my memory serves me. It was a good time in my life and although I have mainly happy memories of that place on Pare Street, I must admit that I had strange sleeping patterns when we lived there. At the time I thought nothing of it, it was not until years later, when we had moved away and I looked back on that time did I realize all had not been as it should have been.
Dreams, never in my life have I had such vivid dreams as when we lived in our small apartment on Pare Street. Such dreams that I would wake my wife up and ask her to sit with me a spell. I would wake in the middle of the night, sure someone was trying get into our place. It got so I would leap from our bed and prowl the apartment looking for the intruder, only to find no one. My wife would laugh at me and lure me back to bed telling me I was her hero. In the morning, with the sun up and coffee’s in hand, we would laugh about the night before.
Then one night I awoke with the usual “did I hear something?” feeling. I lay in my bed listening to the sound of my wife’s breathing and looking out of our bedroom door when it happened. Someone walked past my bedroom door. It happened quickly, but I can see him in my mind now as clearly as I saw him walk past my bedroom that night. He was a middle aged white male, with glasses. I jumped up and came running out of my bedroom, with murderous intent, as he had been heading towards my daughters room. There was no one in the hallway and of course as I got to my daughters room there was only her, sleeping like an angel. After checking all the door and windows I remember sitting in the living room looking out the front window and wondering if I was losing my mind. It was quite sometime before I was able to go back to sleep that night.
The next morning the incident seemed distant, and almost comical in a way. Our minds seem to work much differently in the dead of night compared with the light of the morning. I was getting ready for work when my daughter came out of her room. As she was getting her cereal bowl she asked me “who was that man last night?” I can remember time seemed to stop when she said that. With a very dry mouth I asked her, “what man honey?” to which she replied “the one that was sitting in the living room, the one with the glasses”. I stared at her for a long time, not really knowing what to say or do, literally shocked into silence. When my heart began to pump again, I told her that she must have had a dream.
I would love to tell you that something else amazing happened, I touched the supernatural world, spoke to Jim Morrison, voyaged to another plain. However, that is the end of my story. I continued to not sleep great in our cute apartment on Pare Street, my daughter got a year older and we move out the next summer.
Many years later I asked my oldest daughter if she remembered that night. She once again described the man she saw sitting in our living room that night.
That is my ghost story, you can believe it or not. I am not sure what I saw or did not see that night, but when I think about it the hair on my arms stands up.