Supernatural

I Married a Man Who Lived in a Haunted House

It would have been nice if he warned me on our first date

My husband was keeping a secret from me, which I was to find out the hard way. Someone or something else lived in the house with us.

Strange noises

When I met my second husband, George, who was quite a bit older than me, I was aware that his elderly parents had lived with him for the past few decades and that his father had recently died due to complications with his health.

His mom, whom everyone called Granny, was still alive at age 92 and occupied the middle bedroom of the house, where she once shared it with his father.

George was very close to his father, even more so than his mom, and after I moved in with him, she opted to move to California to live with her other son.

That’s when I noticed strange things happening I could not explain.

One night after my son went to bed and I had an evening to myself, as my husband enjoyed hanging out with his buddies and talking politics, an interest I did not share, I decided to take a nice, long bath.

The bathroom was at the end of the hall, close to our bedroom, and at a right to his parent’s old room.

While in the tub, I heard what sounded like footsteps in the hallway walking toward me. I called out to George, thinking he had come home early, but there was no answer.

The pacing continued throughout the hall, then stopped in front of Granny’s bedroom. Thinking it might be my son, I left the bathroom and checked on him, but he was still sound asleep.

I was a little skeptical about telling my husband later that night because I knew he’d probably brush me off for mentioning it.

After relaying the story to him, he smirked and said, “Really?” I didn’t know what to make of that. Did he know something that I didn’t know?

After that, I didn’t take a bath unless George was in the house with me.

More Footsteps

Sometime later, being a part-time seller of household products, I prepared to have a few of my friends over for a party. Being we had a huge basement, I decided to have the party downstairs, as it was a nice, quiet spot and had plenty of tables and chairs.

The morning of the party, I brought down the desserts I had made the day before and finished setting everything up, including the kitchenware I would be putting out to sell.

The party was to start at 1:00 in the afternoon. Once everyone who had been invited was in the house, I locked the upstairs doors so no one would come in without my noticing.

While we were finishing up the selling portion of the party and feasting on dessert, we heard someone walking upstairs. We all heard it and stopped to listen. It sounded as if someone were walking up and down the hall, just like that night I heard it from the bathtub.

Nervous at not knowing what I would find, I ran upstairs, hoping it was my husband, who normally never came home for lunch. When I looked around, no one was there, and the doors were still locked just the way I left them.

Nothing else was disturbed, it seemed, so I rejoined my party.

A few of the girls asked who was in the house, and I informed them that I did not see anyone. Someone asked how is it that we heard someone walking if no one was there? Someone else hummed a few notes from an old spooky TV show.

We all laughed, including me. I didn’t know what to say.

Should I tell them about the night I heard someone in the hall while I was bathing? Better keep that little nugget to myself. We finished up the party, then everyone helped me clean up before they left.

Later, when George came home, I knew I would have to ask him if he had been in the house during the day. I was hoping he would tell me it was him that I heard, to put my mind at ease.

An Unexpected Explanation

As soon as dinner was over and we were alone, I asked him if he came home around 3:00 pm, and he said, “No, I wasn’t even in the area.”

At this point, I felt this overwhelming urge to tell him what happened, knowing I’d be facing sarcasm and scrutiny from him. It was hard to get the words out. Surely he would think me crazy!

“While we were having our party today in the basement,” I started, “we could hear the unmistakable sound of someone walking in the hall. It seemed to stop near your parents’ old bedroom, then it got quiet. I ran upstairs and saw nothing. What do you think I could have heard?”

My normally cynical husband, who never missed an opportunity to prove he had a logical explanation for everything, completely shocked me with his answer.

“That’s just my father,” he said nonchalantly. “He still checks the house as he was accustomed to doing when he was alive. He’s guarding my mom and waiting for her, even though she’s not in the bedroom anymore. I hear him all the time.”

For some reason, his explanation made total sense, and I felt closer to his father than I ever felt, even though I had never met him.

The footsteps never bothered me or scared me after that, and in some ways I welcomed the thought of having someone watch over the house when I was alone.

Granny died a few years later, and his footsteps were never heard in the hallway again.

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