Hi all! Today I welcome Lee to MFB. She’s going to show off her writing chops to tell us about some scares she had in her house. She’s a wonderful lady, so if you want to find out more about her and her writing, please go say hi on her blog.
Take it away, Lee!
I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t. Really. But . . .
Our house was built in the 1930’s as a mountain cabin for people from San Francisco who wanted to escape the city and live among the redwoods. We remodeled it when we moved in, adding a couple of rooms and reconfiguring the entrances and exits. I’m telling you this because it’s important to my story.
A few years ago things started appearing on stairs, on counters, and always in the original parts of the house. A red scarf came first, and I asked every one of my friends who’d visited in the previous month if it was theirs. “No.” was each person’s answer. I finally gave it away and forgot about it. I wouldn’t have remembered it, except a few months later, I tripped over a pile of combs and ribbons on the stairs up to my bedroom. I’m the only female who lives here. Still I discounted it. There had to be a logical explanation.
Then one day I went to my jewelry drawer to put on my favorite pearl earrings and there was only one in my jewelry box. I searched. I cleaned drawers. I accused my family of playing tricks on me and trying to make me think I was losing it. First things appeared, and then they disappeared, and I was getting a bit cranky.
After three years passed, I decided that earring was gone forever, so I had a jeweler make a matching one for me. I brought the two earrings home, opened my jewelry box to put them safely away, and there in the drawer was my long lost pearl earring. I don’t know how to explain why I have three pearl earrings, but I do.
Nothing else has happened for years, but a friend who spent the night in the old bedroom swears a ghost visited him. He described how a woman (At first he thought it was me.) entered the room. He said she ran her hand along the books on the shelf near the bed, then walked into the closet. That closet is located where the old entrance to the bedroom used to be. My theory, if I believed in ghosts, would be that the ghost knew her way around the old house and thought the closet was still the way out. Well, for her it was. She didn’t reappear, according to my guest. He’d never heard my stories about the appearing and vanishing items. He’s also never spent the night with us again.
Brrrrrr…. creepy. Thanks for the story, Lee
I have two slots left. The dates are: 2 and 9 November. The them: Keeping Track. This could literally be about anything in writing within this theme. Or even if you want to follow Lee’s example, a story you want to tell. If you’re interested, please contact me at mishagericke(AT)gmail(DOT)com.