Ghost…A Real Life Experience

A Night on Cypress

What a boring evening. I was home alone, my husband was at work and I had just lain the baby down for the night. I sat on the couch searching for something to watch. I remember wondering why in the hell I wasted so much money on cable. Anyway, I’m sitting there and I hear this light thudding noise. I figure it’s probably the neighbors; I swear they either moved their furniture around every day or they were owners of some sort of torture chamber. I knew living in a town house was a bad idea. I continue searching through the channels and settle on a Criminal Minds marathon. Now, I have to tell you, I am overly sensitive and I have convinced myself too many times that my house was on the verge of a hostile takeover by demons that turned out to be the cat. Embarrassing really, but it keeps me keenly aware. So, I pause the show to go investigate the fridge for the 100th time that evening. I settle on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich…I look in the fridge and I hear that damn thudding noise again, except this time it’s louder. “I wish they would shut the hell up!!” Talking to yourself is never a good sign, but there I am in the kitchen with a knife full of peanut butter audibly complaining about my too loud neighbors. Has it become evident that I don’t have too much of a life? Well anyway, I start cleaning up and the patio door flies open. Scared the shit out of me to be honest. That door never did lock properly and where we lived the wind had abdominal strength so it only stood to reason that that was why the door is having a bi-polar mood swing. I close the door back, lock it and go sit down. Now here’s where the shit gets freaky. No sooner than I can hit the play button, the back door flies open again. Ok, what the hell is going on? And there’s that damn thudding only now it’s like a banging. I can’t pinpoint where it is coming from. There are no noises coming from the baby monitor so all must be serene up there. I’m feeling kind of wonky and I want to go grab the baby and drive to the edge of the state. But, knowing myself, I figure I’m being paranoid and it’s all coincidence.

I sit back down and text my husband. He tells me to stop watching Criminal Minds and to go to bed. Yeah well, it’s only 830 buddy. *BOOM* I hop off the couch like my ass is on fire. I have HAD it with those damn neighbors. I grab the baby monitor, walk the 3 seconds next door and ring the doorbell. The wife comes to the door and I ask her if she could please quiet it down. She says, “I’m sorry but I’m not making any noise! I’m just watching Criminal Minds by myself.” Oh well, this is awkward. “Ok, I just keep hearing a lot of banging, sorry.” I skip back over to the house. The bathroom light is on. Did I turn that light on? No, I haven’t peed in the last two hours. Oh crap, now I have to pee. I definitely didn’t leave that light on. Did I? I peer into the bathroom expecting something to jump on me at any minute but there’s the bathroom looking as normal as ever. I pee and bolt out of there. I turn the light off and close the door for added precaution. I get a blanket out of the closet and wrap up in it because everyone knows that nothing can get you while you’re under a blanket. I finally settle down and watch my show. Things are quiet and I figure I probably did leave that light on. I look over at the bathroom. The light is on. The door is open. I shit my pants. Ok, I didn’t but I almost did. Every hair on my body is standing up and I am scared to move. My heart is going to beat right out of my chest. Panic presses in on me from every conceivable angle and I’m pretty sure I can’t breathe. The next series of events happen in rapid succession…There’s a huge boom, the bathroom light clicks off, the back door flies open again and the baby starts screaming like he’s being throttled. I scream like a maniac and I fly upstairs two at a time. If I weren’t so short, I would have tried three at a time. I burst in the baby’s room and I almost pass out. He’s sitting up laughing and pointing to the ceiling. There are lights, like LED looking lights dancing all over the room. The walls, the ceiling, everywhere. I can’t understand where they could be coming from. I look outside and it’s pitch black. There is no discernible light source. I grab my baby and run back downstairs. My blanket is on the floor, the fridge is open and the tv is on but the cable box is off. I scream like the girls in the movies and stand there for a second. I grab my phone, diaper bag and keys and run like hell into the garage. I get us far enough away from that house, and call my husband in hysterics. I’m almost sure he sprouted wings or learned how to apparate because he was there in three seconds. He convinces me to go back home with him. Well, when we get there everything is completely normal. No lights are on, the blanket is back on the couch, the fridge is closed, a Criminal Minds episode is ending and not one single thing is out of place. Well, of course my husband is like what in the hell were you talking about but I am visibly shaken up and he doesn’t press the issue.

We lived there for two more years and not one single thing happened after that. Not even a noise in the night. I don’t know what was going on that particular evening, but I know one damn thing: I will never forget 754 Cypress St.

Until next time, keep smiling.

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