As we draw down to the last few days before Samhain/Halloween, I thought I’d tell about the resident ghost we had in our house when we moved in.
June, 2000: We closed on our house in late June, on our 1-yr. wedding anniversary, no less. That same night, I decided to go up to the house to vacuum and get the rooms ready for us to start moving in the next day. I went up there armed only with the vacuum and my headphones.
Just for a little back story: Before we moved in, the house had only been empty for a few months. The previous owners were an elderly couple, the husband a minor local television celebrity. He’d been the “ag” guy on one of the news channels for more years than I’ve lived in North Dakota, and was known for his very distinctive voice. Gravelly and deep, with a certain Scandinavian/North Dakota accent, you knew this man with your eyes closed just by that voice. He’d passed away from cancer in December of 1999, and his wife followed just a few months after, we were told, from a broken heart. She simply couldn’t continue on without him. They had raised their children in this house, loved, lived, and had passed over from here. Both of them choosing to “die with dignity” at home. Both, as we found out later, had passed away in the living room. Ironic, that.
None of the stories deterred us from buying the house, we loved it from the moment we walked in, and had to make our offer right away.
Well, that night, I drove up to the house, in the evening gloom, and locked all the doors behind me. We didn’t know the neighborhood, and I was going to be listening to music with a loud vacuum running. Didn’t want any “curious neighbors” just popping in to say “hi”.
I started out in the master bedroom, Metallica jammed as loud as I could stand, when I heard a distinct and dinstinctive voice in my ear.
“What are you doing in my house?”
My heart threatened to jump out of my chest as I ripped off the headphones and spun around.
“Hello?” I called out, checking to see if someone had found another way in. I actually opened every interior door in the house, upstairs and down, looking to see if someone was playing a prank. No one was there but me.
When I finally decided that I was probably hearing things, I turned the music in my headphones back on, and went back to my vacuuming. Different band, different song.
“What are you doing in my house?” reverberated in my ear, as though someone was standing right next to me, talking loudly right in my ear.
It was at this point that I realized who I was hearing. And the lightbulb in my head lit.