I need to state upfront, that I do not believe in "ghosts" or "spirits."
But like even the most rock-headed pragmatists, I've experienced things which I can't explain.
I bought my first house in college. I was looking at what I was paying in rent for a rather dingy studio apartment and comparing that to what a mortgage payment would be on an inexpensive house in a dingy neighborhood. I just could not rationalize the rent.
This was in the pre pre pre real estate meltdown days. FHA programs still worked as intended - getting working people into homes that they really could afford without large down payments.
So I bought a house at a price that is less than the cost of some vehicles. It was on a quiet one-way street, in a working-class neighborhood. There were no houses on the other side of the street, since that was taken up by the interstate. The interstate sat up a huge, steep hill, making the noise just a dull din in the background. For a college kid - it was idyllic.
The house was affordable, and I loved spending time and what little money I had improving it. Most rooms were painted; rough fixes done to allow the sale under FHA rules were remedied; carpeting was installed in many rooms. The energy that seems to inherently come with a first house is enviable now.
Still, money was tight. I made OK money working as a line mechanic and restoring cars, but the school year was tougher, with tuition due and often less work. Multiple jobs while going to school sometimes made things hectic.
The kitchen in the house was fairly large for its age. At some point in the house's history, it was lifted off its foundation, moved over several feet with a new basement dug under it. This was done to give the property a driveway, and (as I've been led to believe) as an overreaction to fighting with the neighbors at the time about the property lines. I believe the kitchen may have been enlarged at this same time.
The house had been owned by the same family for decades prior to my purchase. The family originated in Eastern Europe with a last name that had too many consonants. It was changed for most family members at some point to make it more pronounceable. The last member to leave was Annie. I bought the house from Annie's son.
Money was tighter than normal, with the end of the school semester approaching when I returned home on a late winter day. Opening a drawer in the kitchen, sitting right on top was a birthday card to Annie. I found this quite disconcerting as much time was spent cleaning before moving into the house.
I wasn't too disturbed, but did spend a few hours later that week removing all the drawers in the kitchen, looking under the cabinets and under every drawer; I had assumed the card was stuck under or behind a drawer somewhere. I found nothing else.
Through that spring, several more old birthday cards appeared in the kitchen drawers!
I won't say this freaked me out, but it was far more than curious.
As that school year wound down, a final envelope showed up under the sink this time. It contained a few more birthday cards and a massive wad of $2 bills. Humidity and water from the sink had caused all the bills to stick together in some even-numbered cancerous mass.
This was a blessing as money was scary tight by that point, with relief in the form of the summer work season not yet providing.
I've previously written how old houses have a breathing history, and this was only one very pronounced example of that house.
I wedged the wad of bills into a blue folder, and took it to the bank. A friendly teller and I spent a considerable amount of fun time separating the bills. I'm not sure if the average bank teller today would have taken that same amount of time. She returned the sum to me in uncirculated currency.
I used the cash to catch up on a few bills, buy food, and I think I also splurged on a really expensive bottle of beer - it was found money. As I recall, I was not impressed with the beer.
I suppose it is hard to have any fear about a ghostly windfall, but the circumstances of it appearing after specifically looking for anything stuck in the kitchen drawers due to the birthday card(s) was a little unsettling.
Either way, it is still very hard to explain.
At some future Halloween, I'll have to tell what I found out about Annie dying - it wasn't at the hospital, and the unexplainable noise and door behavior shortly after moving in...
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