A Simple Ghost Story

I've never been the type to get spooked when it came to things the go bump in the night, but recently, there was an occurrence in my home that refuses to be ignored.

My home is one half of a duplex that is one hundred and twelve years old and stands a couple of hundred yards from the ancestral home of Abigail Adams.

The house itself is rather unimpressive, being of the standard suburban Boston fare. When entering, you must pass through what in the past was a screened porch that had been converted into an entry way and an addition to the dining room. The staircase to the upstairs bedrooms is the very first thing that you see when entering the house. To the left of the entryway is the dining room which is where the original house terminated; the kitchen lies beyond that if you were to continue to the left. To the right of the entryway is the living room, or parlor.

The stairway that leads to the upstairs bedrooms wraps around on itself, so if you climb the stairs from below, you will end up facing in the opposite direction when you have reached the top of the first staircase. There is a window immediately in front of you and a bedroom to the left and the right. The stairs wrap around again to ascend to the attic bedroom, whose door lies to the left once the stairs have been climbed.

Having lived in the house for several years and not having experienced anything strange, My wife and I had assumed that the house was to be considered 'inactive' in the paranormal sense; boy, were we wrong!

My wife and I had both had interests in the world of the paranormal in the past; having both been involved with various investigation groups and fancied ourselves rather accomplished whenever the subject arose in conversation. So, when the following account happened, it did not take long before we'd realized that we were not quite up to snuff.

It happened while the two of us were lying in bed in the attic bedroom, reading, as we were wont to do before going to sleep. There was a ruckus that appeared to come from the first floor; it sounded like furniture was being thrown and broken.

"What the hell was that?!" I exclaimed. The noise was extremely loud and had continued for several seconds.

My wife had already leaped out of the bed and was at the doorway peering down the staircase. "I have no idea. It sounded like a table had been flipped over or something." She replied. Her voice never betrayed the looked of concern in her eyes.

Fearing an intruder, I rose from the bed and searched the room for something, anything, that could pass for a weapon; I had no intention of wandering into a dangerous situation without some form of protection in hand. I had to settle for a miniature wooden baseball bat that Wendy, my wife, had purchased at a major league baseball game some years prior; why it was so handy, I'll never know, but it fit the bill as well as anything else I would have found in the bedroom.

Clasping the tiny bat, I began to make my way down the stairs toward the second floor. I would never have admitted it at the time, but I was petrified of what I might discover when I had reached the first floor.

I made every effort to keep my footsteps as silent as possible, but the old wooden stairs seemed bent on announcing to the world that I was descending them. With every creeeaak of the steps, I winced as though I was stepping on upturned nails. Eventually, I made it to the second floor landing, sweat had begun to bead up on my brow.

The second floor landing is small enough that I could peer around the corner to the first staircase that leads to the next landing; the darkness was unnerving enough, but the sound of footfalls from below made the hair on my neck stand up and my heart skip a beat.

Looking up the stairs toward the doorway of the attic bedroom, my eyes met those of Wendy; She's heard the footsteps as well. "Want me to call the police?" she whispered, the fear in her eyes had multiplied by this point.

I shook my head and turned my attention to the stairs leading to the first floor once again; gathering my resolve, I began the slow descent into the unknown.

I was about half the distance down the stairs when another deafening crash sounded from the floor below me; I froze instantly; every fiber of my being was tensed as I fought to keep myself from darting back up the stairs to relative safety. The darkness of the staircase was no longer my friend, it had become an even more potent enemy than whoever, or whatever was trouncing around the first floor of my home. I resisted the urge to turn the lights on; they could keep me from obtaining any semblance of the element of surprise on the intruder.

There were more footfalls, heavy footfalls. I silently prayed that this person wasn't so large that I would be overpowered too quickly to be able to make this trip worthwhile. The beating of my heart had become deafening, and I took a moment to try to calm myself down somewhat; the effort hadn't accomplished much.

Once I had at least gained some composure, I began to descend once again when the footfalls from below grew louder; they were approaching the stairs! I stood stock-still and gripped the small bat to reassure myself that I would be able to knock someone unconscious in the event of a struggle. I also realized that I was holding my breath. As I exhaled as quietly as I felt was possible, the footsteps ceased; at what sounded like the bottom of the stairs.

Had they heard me? Was my position compromised? I had no idea; no idea that is, until I heard the steps resume, and they were now ascending the staircase,

Fear gripped me tightly. I prepared myself for the fight that was surely coming up those stairs. Each step that the intruder took shook the small amount of resolve that remained within me. I was standing solidly on the landing above the first floor when the footsteps of the intruder indicated that they too, were now on the landing with me. I swallowed hard and decided to tell them that I had a weapon and wasn't afraid to use it.

"Stop right there!" I croaked. "I don't want to have to hurt you!"

The footsteps ceased and there was a long silence; a foreboding silence, and I could swear before a judge that I heard breathing that did not belong to me.

With a blinding flash, the hall light snapped on and I found myself staring directly at the wall of the staircase.

"Are you okay?" Wendy called from directly above me. "I heard you yelling."

I was dumbfounded; Where had the intruder gone? How the hell could I be alone on the landing?

"Are you okay!?" she called as she made her way down from the bedroom.

"I'm fine, I don't- I don't understand it." I stammered.

We embraced briefly as Wendy explained that once she'd heard me calling out, she couldn't bear to stand idly by. I reassured her that I was okay, regardless of the sheen of perspiration that had collected on my face and soaked through my t-shirt.

Making our way downstairs, we investigated the first floor entirely; nothing was out of place, nothing was broken, and all doors were closed and locked. Eventually, we decided that perhaps we'd heard noise from one of our neighbor's homes and turned in for the night. Though neither of us was really convinced.

To this day, I have no idea what had really happened that night, and I'm not sure that I want to, but I know that I was not alone on that landing, and no one will ever convince me otherwise.