1/31/2002

1/31/2002 - 12:00

A GHOST STORY: AKRON PRE-DAWN SHIVERS

We rented a tall big box-like old yellow house on a cul-de-sac off of Merriman drive in the early nineties. The shared drive and the postage stamp yard gave it that inner city feeling, while the valley it rested over blessed the vintage home with rural sensitivity. The interior was mostly wood; the floors, banister, steps and two big columns off the foyer stained dark. It had an attic big enough to be used for band rehearsals and a sweaty dank basement for laundry. Blood red carpeting cushioned the second floor master bedroom while a soft pink shag covered the baby's.

I woke before God himself in those days, 5:00 or 5:30 in the a.m. One particular October morning, the house totally black, I trudged down the dark stairway and felt my way across the living room. I reached around the corner into the kitchen to turn on the light and saw a flash, like a luminescent cloud, scoot down the basement stairs. The light burned out as soon as it flashed on. By now, I was trying to keep my stomach out of my throat. I ran, like a girl, around the corner again, up the stairs and into bed where I asked, like a girl, for my wife to come downstairs with me. I don't remember her reaction; probably not very sympathetic. We went down, her first, and turned on all the lights we could possibly turn on. I, unnerved, replaced the burned out bulb in the kitchen and tuned it on. After coffee I went to work a little more humble than the day before.

I don't know if I really saw a ghost that morning. If I did I probably caught it by surprise. I do know that I felt the electricity of something shoot through me. I also know my hair stood on its ends for hours after the 'encounter'. From then on I always turned on the nearest light before moving through the house.

We moved shortly after, not because of the scare, to the house next door. It was older and bigger and 'warmer' than the yellow house. And the spirits which lived there never bothered me. I never snuck up on them, either.