Creeking stairs, slamming doors, things that go bump-crash-kaboom in the night; we have had it all here at the big old Shively House.
It wasnt long after we moved in that the ghosts started making an appearance. My sister-in-law saw her in the bed room, staring all night but not moving or saying a word. She was a modern ghost, right out of 1957 in a typical A-line skirt and matching short jacket. We later found out it was Katie Sue, who used to live here and sleep in the room where she was seen. Then there were things that ran up or down the stairs--I never saw them, but am confident they appeared to those who did. And the Shop Vac incident when the machine kept turning itself off untill i protested to the ghost that I had work to do and leave me alone for a while. The worst was a large black cloud-like figure in the corner of the dining room and the accompanying self-moving pointesttia plant. Thankfully, I didnt see that one either.
There is a creepy little room in the basement--really just the back porch foundation--that really gives everyone the willies. Another "hidden room" lies behind a wall and was found only when we were having a termite inspection done. This time just the front porch foundation, but it gives rise to great haunting stories. And the library on the third floor causes more than one friend to have the hairs on their neck stand on-end and one visitor got goosebumps that lasted all the while she retreated to the safety of the second floor.
The latest "haunting" is more problematic and far less romantic than these--we got bats. Sure it completes the tricked-out Scooby-Doo theme we got going, but Zoinks, Shaggy, why our house? There is no evidence that they were here for previous owners, who, like us, did have trouble with birds roosting under the eves on the south side of the house. We have tried eradicating the bats from the house ourselves. netting stretched over their openings, watching the house every evening (so we know where to stretch that netting), caulk, spray foam, tape, anything but poison and wringing their blind little necks.
Maybe its time to call in a professional, or just be happy when Scooby calls me Freddy ...
