So there we were, settling into our new (very old) house.
We’d finally finished most of the interior renovations on the 113-year-old bungalow we bought a couple years ago in Atlanta’s Historic West End. So we’d decided to take the rest of the year off before launching on the exterior renovations.
Not a bad place to be after grinding for almost two years.
But then a rather unsettling moment: We found, on a West End-related website, a letter from someone who lived in our house many years ago who said that living in the neighborhood was really nice – but the house was haunted.
We had had no inkling whatsoever of a … presence in the house. None.
And we have a bit of experience with ghosts. Seriously!
There was almost definitely a ghost in our previous home when we first moved in. We bought the house from an older, widowed lady who had lived there with her husband and remained after he died. She’d sold the house, because her daughter did not want her living alone anymore, and moved cross country to live near her daughter.
Apparently, nobody told her husband that she was moving.
For the first few months we were there, doors would open or close unexpectedly. The dog would be in a room alone when he would suddenly yelp and run out of the room. One night Kim and I were on the bed making out when something turned the bedroom lights off. We were used to the kids cock-blocking, but a ghost?
We weren’t scared. I think we felt like, Okay, you were here first, but we’re paying the mortgage now. So you can hang around if you need to, just don’t expect to run things. We turned the lights back on and proceeded.
After a few months, the odd incidents stopped happening. Either the husband had learned to tolerate our presence or he had left to search for his wife, we assumed.
So now we had another ghost?
We were extra vigilant for a couple days, but then we just sort of forgot about it.
We just assumed that perhaps the ghost here, like the one at our other house, had moved on – perhaps long before we even got here.