the editor talks with you

What is there about haunted houses that fascinates us? What is there about ghosts and goblins that attract us, even if the chills give us the willys?

For years,I laughed at the idea that there might be haunted souls of the departed wandering the earth in search of something they never found in their real lives.

Then, our little family found a charming Cape Cod bungalow beside a park at the end of a dead end street. What happened there changed my mind abut ghosts.

The house had two bedrooms, living and small dining rooms, kitchen and bath on the main floor. Beneath that was a full basement with washer and dryer and plenty of room for our kids to play on rainy days.

It even had room for me to set up a darkroom to develop photographs long before digital photography was invented.

The top floor under the eaves contained a small bedroom where our sons slept.

It had a garden out back with a picnic table and a place where we set up a sandbox for the boys and their friends.

In the only nearby house lived a family with 2 children, Will and Shelly. They were a bit older than our sons but took an interest in them and spent time with them.

My job as an editor at the local newspaper required night hours. But with the park and the friendly neighbors, it was an ideal place for a young family.

Due to my hours, most of the day was available to us to be together. In the late afternoon I went to the paper, made sure our reporters all knew what they would be covering that night, came home for supper, and went back to office until the last reporters had turned in their articles.

One morning my wife had taken our boys to the grocery store with her.

I was in our basement darkroom developing photos. I heard footsteps in the living room above me and figured they had just come home. I went upstairs to bring in the groceries but no one was there. I went out front but our car was not in the drive.

What was going on?

When they returned, I asked my wife if she and the boys had come home earlier.

No, she said.

“I thought I heard you come in,” I said.

“Then you’ve heard it, too,” she said.

“Heard what,” I asked.

“The ghost,” she said.

Mrs. Bryant next door had told her that the house’s late owner had died in our bedroom. Others who had rented the house told her about bizarre things that occurred.

We came to accept that our ghost was friendly. Some nights we would hear him ascending the stairs to check on our sons.

Our oldest son reported seeing a strange light in the room, He wasn’t afraid. In fact, he said, he felt comforted by the light.

One night when I was at work, some teenagers gathered in the park after dark and began fighting. My wife stood in our darkened kitchen watching them through the window. She had the most comforting feeling. It was as if someone put his arm around her and told her not to worry,

Next: Other haunted houses.

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