I've heard several times that ghosts follow certain "types" of people. These people are perfectly normal in every way. They live their lives the exact same way you do. Only, when they're alone, doors have a way of opening by themselves, light bulbs burn out and they hear soft footsteps creaking through empty wooden hallways.
Around them, odd things seem to happen far too often. Everyone has probably been around a person like this at some point. Someone with just a few too many stories you don't want to hear at night.
I am one of those people.
I spent most of my childhood nights restless and under my bedsheets (or as I preferred to call it— "strategically camouflaged"). When I think back, I wasn't the smartest kid, especially at ghost deterrence, but the fact that my cover doubled as a protective cocoon made it seem more sensible.
I made it very clear to whatever spirit was around me that the "Fortress of Solitude" wasn't my last line of defense. If needed, I would scream for mom.
As more and more time passed, the same things would happen over and over again. Doors slammed shut, trinkets would fall over and lights would flicker. I even recall a toilet flushing by itself once. It wasn't until early adulthood that I realized I didn't need to actually do anything about any of this. Nothing ever hurt me physically. It was all just varying degrees of mental strain.
Even what I considered the more significant encounters like a television turning on by itself or actually seeing a misty form appear eventually become well... annoying. My defense simply became ignorance.
Things still happen as an adult, but they don't really bother me anymore. If something falls, I whine and pick it up. If a door opens, I grumble and close it. And if light bulbs burn out, I replace them and have an electrician look at my wiring... (you can never be too safe there). The people around me have a hard time adjusting, but me... I'm rock solid.
Nothing creepy really scares me because I've seen it all many, many times. It gets old.
This leads me to the actual story. I'm 27 years old now and have just purchased my first house. It looks like a hipster's headquarters. You know the type: big vaulted ceilings, wooden floors, big metal heating grates, etc... The basement was grubby and needed a little work, but it was home. It's in the oldest part of town -- the part that always seems to be right next to downtown. The house is really the perfect storm as far as the supernatural goes. Zac Bagans from Ghost Adventures could show up drooling at my doorstep tomorrow .
Storied history of multiple deaths (yawn). Check. Frequent encounters with a prominent poltergeist (sigh). Check. The best freaking steal on the block. Check baby!
The prior owner was actually a landlord looking to make money off his tenants, but he couldn't keep any. They all eventually freaked out and broke their leases. After his first loss in court, he was finally so frustrated he didn't mind taking a loss on the property.
For the first couple of weeks it was business as usual as I settled in. There was definitely a poltergeist there. My pictures would rattle on the wall at night disturbing my sleep. Once more, the doors.... (What is this obsession with doors?) But this wasn't my first rodeo. I coexisted, even if it was incredibly irritating.
Late one night, I awoke to the sound of shattering glass. I moaned at being woken up... again. That stupid poltergeist. It was literally its only redeeming quality that nothing had ever broken while I was living in the house. I said a silent prayer, hoping it wasn't my favorite Ninja Turtle coffee mug.
I turned on my light. It wouldn't work. Groaning about the light and the electrician's bill, I got up and walked to the door, which closed right as I was about to walk through. I took a deep breath, opened it again, and walked down the hallway into the kitchen. Without light, I stepped on a shard of glass, letting out a yelp of pain as the sharp edge sank into the ball of my foot. I pulled it out to inspect it. It was a piece of Leonardo's head. I stood in my kitchen in silence, looking for other fragments on the ground. And then, I felt something... Something I had never felt before when dealing with events like this... anger.
I lost it...
"Do you have any fucking idea how annoying you are!? I mean knocking things over— it was creepy when I was 10, but I'm an adult now and this is just rude. 'Oooooh look at me I'm a ghost; I don't have any responsibility. I can just float around and make a bunch of noise by knocking things over whenever I want.' Well guess what, I have to work tomorrow. I have to work to pay for this house you apparently still live in RENT FREE. 'Ooooh but I don't want anyone living in my house, even though I'm dead it's still mine.' You already had this house and a life, a beautiful life on this planet, and now an afterlife and now you want more!? You're greedy. You're a greedy jerk.
I want to make something else clear too. If you don't stop bothering me and you think that if you keep doing this I'll move: I will never move. I will never move ever. I will tear down this house before I move. I will tear down this house and build a 24-hour-a-day Denny's. And you know what else? I will be open Thanksgiving, I will be open Christmas, I will be open every single day of the year and all just to spite you. I'll leave the Denny's in my will and guilt trip my kids into running it when I'm gone. It will literally be my dying wish. You will never have peace and quiet ever again because of the cycle of shame I will create in my own family.
And when they ask me why weird things keep happening in the kitchen. I'll just be like, 'Oh don't worry, that's just Mr. Wiggles.' That's right! You'll get a nickname! A totally crappy nickname! That's the road you're headed down. Just ask your ghost friends what happened when nobody wanted to live in the houses they died in. Besides, I'm respectable! That dirty basement that no one cleaned? That's my man cave now. A clean, respectable man cave where I watch Netflix. Leave me alone! Leave me alone and I'll leave you alone! I'm gone most of the day anyway!? When I'm home all I do is just watch television. Is it REALLY that bad?
I got a broom and dustpan out of the closet and began sweeping up the shards of glass in the dark. The lights flickered on. I put everything away and began to head back to bed. Before I flipped the lights off I added, "One more thing, what are you doing with your afterlife? Don't you have any ghost ambition? You can fly! Take a ghost vacation with your ghost friends. Go see Niagara Falls or Jupiter. Find out if Hogwarts is real or something. Seriously— why the hell are you wasting your time here?"
Haven't had a problem since.
