THE HAUNTED HOUSE

The move was one of those “go where the work is” moves.  Ken got a call that he was needed to start a new program.  After some thought, he said yes.  He also said to me that he would stay two years maximum.  So we made a move and looked for a house to rent.  Our youngest son moved into the house in Georgetown.

We rented a temporary place and continued to look.  There was a house for sale in the town where I had taken a teaching job.  We were told by the realtor that renting was definitely not a possibility.  Mr. Brown*, the owner, had died, and the heirs only wanted to sell.  The house had been vacant for some time, and the grounds were in a state of disrepair.  Grass and weeds were high, and it was looking dismal.  Ken decided to talk to one of the heirs anyway.  Ken told him that he would clean up the grounds and take care of the house.  After several weeks, we rented the house.

The house was old and charming.  It had large rooms and high ceilings.  We fell in love with it.  We didn’t move furniture from Georgetown, so we went shopping.  We bought some furniture, and it became home.  There was a detached garage, and a yard man settled into quarters behind it.

The two dogs even liked the place.  It was not fenced.  We staked the Weimaraner, and every day for a week, Ken walked her around the perimeter of the property.  She seemed to sense that she was not to cross the line.  After we stopped staking her, she left the yard one time.  That time was to chase a German Shepherd down the driveway.  Our daughter’s poodle made the move also.  He was a house dog, but he liked to sit outside.  The property was several times the size of the yard in Georgetown.  He sat outside and surveyed the wide world around him.

After we had been in the house for several months, we were awakened one night by something on the roof.  It was a loud, frightening sound like heavy footsteps. Ken ran outside.  The yard man even heard it and also ran outside.  They went all around the house with flashlights and could not find anything.  The yard man even climbed a tree near a guard light that shone on the roof.   It was alarming.  I am not sure that I slept the rest of the night.

Ken was sure there would be tracks in the flower beds when daylight came.  There were none.  The house had a flat roof with a tar base and gravel.  We had heard a crunch on the gravel.  There was no evidence of anything having been on the roof.  We could not think of an animal heavy enough to make enough noise to wake us up.

Six or eight months later, the same thing happened again.  It was the same cadence of footsteps crunching on the gravel on the roof.   They started heavy over the master bedroom and faded away at the front of the house.  The two men searched for evidence and found nothing.  It was a mystery.

The third time that it happened, Ken and I woke up, looked at each other, and said, “There it is again.”

We decided that it was the ghost of Mr. Brown.

 

 

*not his name

 


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