Two nights ago, around about 10:30, I was sitting comfortably and quietly on the antique Victorian chaise in my livingroom, minding my own business, when I heard a distinct and loud “CRACK” emanate from my upstairs hallway.
It was sharp and quick and startling, and I was “it” in the space; there was no explanation I could readily think of for the noise. Unless…
I texted a friend, saying I wish he still lived around the corner and telling him why.
His immediate reply: “Hmmmm Human?”
That gives you, perhaps a clue as to my “Unless…”
I live in what I like to call an “active” house. This house used to be a hotel back in Victorian times, with at least seven guest rooms on the second floor and all common areas on the first floor (probably typical).
The original brick structure now hosts three townhouses, of which mine is one. An ell, which extends out from the right rear, was added sometime in the early- to mid-20th century and the first floor is a small apartment.
This gracious building is situated beside a small old cemetery. In fact, it’s fully viewable from my office window. The cemetery wall is about 12 feet from the side of the house.
It’s a vague possibility (ahem) that this next door neighbor of mine could have something to do with the “CRACK!” and other, seemingly inexplicable, noises and scents that I am gifted with on a regular basis.
So, “Hmmmm Human?” Probably not.
At any rate, I was made uncomfortable enough by the bold noise that I called one of my Ya-Yas: Linda. She lives down over the hill and around a corner and up a smaller hill (my hill is bigger; just saying).
She offered to come over so we could check out the situation and was here within minutes, knocking on my door. She held a long-bladed knife in one hand and had a big smile on her face. Ya-Ya!
I let her in and grabbed my phone in case we needed to call 911 or Ghostbusters. (More like Ghost Hunters; they’re “just down the road.”)
She charged (Really. She charged.) ahead of me up the steep flight of stairs, merrily calling out, “Hello!” as she went.
That was a perfect way to diffuse the bulk of my lingering concerns. How could I do anything but laugh?
By the light of the upper hallway light, which I’d turned on hours earlier as it was darkening, we checked out the upstairs rooms (vacant, save for us).
Linda even took a moment to call out the hallway window open out over the back yard with another “Hello!” Too funny!
After Linda left, I did some energy work to clear the entire building, as I do with some frequency. Even so, the feel of the house remained unsettled, which sometimes happens regardless of what I do.
For a good part of the night I listened to light poppings and murmurings, which faded away sometime after 2:30am.
What can I do? As the saying goes, “Ghosts were human, too.”