So…we have a ghost in our house.
At least he / she / it seems to be of the friendly variety.
I’m not Fox Mulder here; I don’t want to believe. But the evidence leaves me no other option.
When we moved into this house a year and a half ago, Sunny and I both started having these weird experiences. We noticed that when we were each alone in the house, we’d invariably get the feeling that someone was in the house with us. You know that sound that someone’s feet make when they’re walking across the kitchen tile? I’d hear that when I’d be here at the house all by myself. About two weeks ago, I promise you I heard a woman’s voice whisper “Hey” while I was watching Baseball Tonight in the living room. I honestly thought Sunny was playing a joke on me or something.
About two weeks ago, Sunny was here at the house one afternoon. All three kids were down for naps and she was in the study working on some school work. Outside the study we have some pictures of the kids hanging on the wall. All is quiet in the house; no one is slamming any doors; nobody stomping through the house. A rare moment of calm….interrupted by the sounding of breaking glass. This picture of Jackson, which had been hanging on our wall for the past 7 months or so, just falls off the wall. All by itself. Nail still hanging in the wall; hanging apparatus on the back of the picture still intact.
Of course, when the glass hits the tile, it shatters into a million pieces, shattering the silence in the house along with it. Before Sunny can even grab a broom to sweep up the shards, everyone in the house is awake. And cranky.
Our ghost is a mischievous little devil. Why else disrupt the peaceful slumber of the Bybee children?
Still not convinced? Last week, Sunny and the kids went up to Nashville on Tuesday night. I stayed back for a couple of days before driving up to join them on Thursday night. Which means I spent two nights here alone. Wednesday morning, I get up and get ready for work just like any normal morning. I’m shaving at the bathroom sink when I hear this crashing sound in our shower. Our shampoo bottle has fallen down. No biggie; I simply put it back in its place. Not five minutes later, while I’m still shaving, the shampoo bottle falls down again. Not only is our ghost mischievous, he’s persistent, too. Before he can bewitch me a third time, I take the shampoo bottle and sit it on the counter next to me. “If you do it a third time,” I tell him, “you’re gonna have to do it right here in front of my eyes. Come and get it, Casper.” Intimidated, our ghost retreats to more specter-friendly confines.
Until last night. At approximately 4:30am, Sunny and I awoke to the same crashing sound in our bathroom. Adrenaline pumping, I rush to the bathroom and flip on the light to find our shampoo bottle lying on the floor outside the shower, mocking me.