The wife and kids had gone to bed.
I was still up, watching TV.
I heard a noise from upstairs, my daughter was crying, she had somehow cut her finger on her bed.
She was really young and had never seen her own blood before, so she wasn't taking it in stride, she was freaking out.
I grabbed some Bactine and band aides from the bathroom at the foot of the stairs.
We moved into the kitchen (right next to the bottom of the stairs) under the bright florescent light.
I reassured her that everything was alright and that we just needed to spray it and get a band aid on it.
While we were busy doing that we heard someone run downstairs and into the bathroom, we could have looked to see who it was but were concentrating on the cut.
Only seconds later we had applied the band aid and I said
"Why don't you see who's in the bathroom, your brother or mom?"
She hopped up and went into the bathroom.
A second later, as she steps out of the bathroom, I hear this sheepish "Dad...there's nobody in there."
(There had to be someone in there, I just heard them, they weren't exactly quiet.)
I looked at her in disbelief and walked into the bathroom, no one there.
|Image courtesy hauntedamericatours.com|
It was at this time that I got a hellacious adrenalin rush, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, or at least felt like it did.
My daughter and I just looked at each other, trying to let it soak in.
Because of the way the house is set up, there is absolutely no way anyone could have gotten out of the bathroom without us seeing them.
We had heard a ghost!
Believe it or not, I'm kind of sensitive about vibes, especially negative energy.
The house had nothing but positive energy, nothing creepy about it, except maybe it's looks, a very old two story house.
What ghost could be here?
Then I remembered, this house use to belong to the town doctor.
Back in the old days when doctors made house calls and all that.
I think it was the old doctor, running down the stairs to help, just like he had done so many times in the past.
(All three bedrooms are upstairs.)
I know a cut finger isn't really an emergency, but think about it from my little girl's perspective.
The first time she ever saw her own blood, she didn't know how bad it was or wasn't.
To her it was a first class emergency, maybe the friendly old Doc picked up on that.
I don't know about my daughter, but I slept with one eye open that night.
By the next day, to my daughter and I, it was official, we lived in a house with a friendly ghost.