This is the story of a house. A house in Tennessee
that sets in the middle of a 90 acre farm. It is a small
white house with neighbors at least a half mile away. In
this small 2 bedroom house lived myself, my mom and dad,
and my baby sister. I grew up in this house, but only
after we moved out did I realize it's rarity.
Every night, for as long as I can remember, when the
house was quiet and everyone was asleep, the house would
come alive all on its own. I would lie in my bed and
listen to a conversation. Not a loud conversation, but
mumbled one. The type that was not intended to be heard.
In my young mind, I was convinced that it was my parents
having a midnight chat. I was wrong. There were many
nights when the voices would wake me from my sleep. I'd
yell for them to be quiet, and the voices would stop for a
minute or two, but always they could still be heard.
While I heard voices, my parents were having their
own experiences with our invisible room mate. No matter
the weather, be it rain, wind, or peaceful, my mom would
always hear music playing outside her bedroom window. The
type of music that one would hear hear if he/she were
sailing on the Titanic. On one occasion, my dad actually
saw our ghost. He awoke in the middle of the night to see
him standing in the hallway. My dad's reaction was to
throw a pillow at him which went right through him. He
then walked into the next room where he wasn't seen
again.
Other strange things happened that were not easily
explained.
I often found missing toys that I had been
searching for conveniently placed on my bed. A glass
walk clock that hung above our fireplace was often moved
to the other side of the room sitting upright against the
wall.
It was after we moved out that my parents and I
finally pieced together our stories and realized that we
weren't alone in our house. I haven't been inside that
house in 10 years, but I'd like to think that our friend
is still there playing his jokes on the new owners.
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