Today’s post is shared by Frances Flynn Thorsen, who is a Realtor in PA and AZ and is the managing editor of Real Town.
Ghosts? Haunted Houses? I confess that I love to read the stories here and elsewhere. I have two personal stories that may be about haunted houses. Perhaps they are NOT about haunted houses. I do not pretend to have an explanation for strange events, but I will share one story here and let you decide for yourself.
The morning was quite bleak, cloudy overcast sky threatened rain. Spirits were soaring as we approached the first house on our round of showings that day. A retired couple from Northern New Jersey was planning to move to the Lehigh Valley, PA, and we embarked upon our second appointment to view properties in search of their new home.
The first home on our itinerary was a detached, single-family, two-story farmhouse in a semi rural corner of Bangor. The house was vacant and the property listing remarks said that there were repairs and renovations underway. There was a great yard and the property had all of the features on the couple’s “Wish List.” We were cheerful and optimistic when I opened the lockbox, inserted a key, and opened the door.
There was no furniture in the house, the ladder in the corner and a set of scattered tools was evidence of work in progress. The rooms were large and windowed to a park-like setting in rear and side yards.
The male spousal unit headed for the basement for a close look at the mechanicals. A retired engineer in search of a “fix” was like a kid in a toy store with an opportunity to roam at will to trace the wires and pipes in the subterranean crevices of a hundred-year-old home.
We left him alone with the furnace and fuse box and proceeded to inspect other areas of the home. The kitchen was large and modestly appointed, and it offered a splendid eating nook with an inviting view of the patio and yard. It was time to see the second floor. As the wife and I started to ascend the stairs we heard a man’s voice. We were surprised. There was no car in the driveway when we arrived. I guessed that the voice belonged either to the owner of the home or to a contractor who was busy upstairs.
The sound of the voice became louder, it sounded like the man was very angry and he was yelling at another person there. I yelled, “Hello! I am a REALTOR and I am showing the house. We are coming upstairs.”
The yelling continued, followed by the sound of a slamming door and a series of crashes. I continued to issue loud greetings and we climbed the stairs. I was concerned that someone was seriously hurt and somewhat fearful that we heard an episode of violence.
Suddenly there was silence. We stepped into the hallway, stopped, and listened. I called out again, “Hello! This is the REALTOR. Is everyone all right?”
There was no response. We gingerly stepped down the hall and looked into the bedrooms and the bathroom. All the rooms were vacant, there was no furniture and no sign of life. The closets were empty. We were chilled. The wife and I shared a look and without saying a word to each other we retreated to the first floor. She called to the basement, “Jim, come upstairs, we are leaving RIGHT NOW!”
He sauntered to the first floor and she ushered him out the door hurriedly, ignoring his pleas for an explanation. I did not say a word. We got into my car and pulled out of the driveway. He continued to inquire about our sudden departure and his wife’s ashen face.
As we pulled onto the highway and headed to the next house on the itinerary the sky smiled. The clouds parted and a glorious ray of warm sun pierced the chilly autumn day. She and I looked at each other and smiled. We never discussed it again. I’ll have to find her e-mail address and send her this link.