Bump in the Night
The house looked like a normal house. An older home, built shortly after WWII. It was a two story home that had been converted into a duplex. It was white stucco, with green trim. There were awnings on the front windows. The yard had pretty flowers planted here and there.
The neighborhood was typical for the area. Similar houses on both sides of the street. Tall full grown trees bordered the boulevard, creating an arch over the street. The children played in the street, catch, tag, and other games. It was a nice quiet neighborhood.
Did I mention that the house was haunted? A young boy had died there. He was 11 when he died. He fell off the back steps, cracked his head on the cement, and never woke up. I guess he wasn't ready to cross over or whatever it is they say about the dead because he was haunting his family's home.
I know these things are fact because I lived there for a year. When I first noticed strange things happening, I put it to my landlord and her crazy sense of humor. My roommate found my earrings in the toe of her shoes. Her contact lens case was in the bottom of my closet. Just little things that didn't really add up but that weren't scary. My landlord denied having anything to do with the "pranks", but rather than accept what it then must be my roommate and I pretended it was her and not a ghostly possibility.
I guess we had lived there about 8 months when the landlord's innocence was proven to us. It was a work day morning. I rolled over, looked at the clock, and screamed. My clock was an hour slow. I was an hour late for work. I couldn't understand why my roommate didn't wake me up, until I saw she was still in her bed. All of our clocks were set back by exactly 1 hour. No, it was not the end of day light savings time.
I was sitting in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to finish (I don't do anything without coffee), I was feeling frustrated at the late start to my day. I said in a loud perturbed voice, "Tommy, if you have to mess with the clocks could you at least wait until the weekend?" The broom closet door flew open, and garbage started flying out all over the kitchen. I screamed, my roommate came running, and we both stood there in a state of half undress while a couple days worth of garbage was flung about the room. Again in a loud voice I spoke, "OK, OK I take it back." The garbage settled to the floor.
I do not believe in ghosts. I do not believe in life after death, except in heaven. I do not believe in haunted houses. I believe that when we die we either go to heaven or hell, immediately. We do not pass go and we do not collect $200.00, and we do not linger here on earth as a ghostly spirit.
Having said all that, I do believe that I lived in a haunted house. I do believe that there was a ghostly quality that lived there. I don't know how that is possible but with all of the evidence before me I had to admit that the house was no normal house.