Open

20090609

A spooky tale

He's back again. The man in my office. The one that others have seen, even though he isn't *technically* there. He comes & goes... at times it'll be days between visits whilst occasionally months shall pass before I know he's around again.

What am I on about you ask? I suppose I've had one too many draughts & am apt to babble on more than normal about one of the ghosts that resides in my shoppe. I've no solid proof available for the non-believers, only my word, which some will say is 'good as gold'. So, if you care to have a listen, pull up a bar stool and click on through...

...oh how lovely! More than one of you has stuck around to hear my tale. In appreciation, let me offer you a delicious sweet to jindulge in... now where was I... oh yes...

I suppose I always knew he was there. As a rule I can't really see spirits; I hear (a voice in my head that isn't mine), feel (the definite weight of a hand upon my arm) or smell them (cigar smoke or old-fashioned ladies perfume).

I find it interesting (amusing might be more like it ;-) how different men have dealt with him. Yes, that's right, he seems to appear solely to my current squeeze. Granted, I can only name three, but that simply means this trio told me what they saw... at times I wonder how many didn't say a word. Oh dear, not to imply that I'm a tart! No no no. *blush* Here, have another truffle & forget I said that last bit out loud...

My exhusband was the first to admit to seeing him. It was very near the bitter end of us. One night he went into the dark room to switch on the lamp. Evidently the ghost was standing near the lamp as the light went on & nearly frightened my ex to death. Drat, I'm only human, so I shall grudgingly admit to the fact that I still giggle as I recall the fearful look on his face. *evil grin*

Next up was a gent I kept company with very briefly. I was working alone, late one evening, when he drove up in front of my shoppe. He didn't come in immediately, but once he did I was accused of getting back together with my ex. I asked whatever gave him that idea. His reply, "I know he's upstairs, I saw him looking out your office window as I drove up."

That's actually how I have seen him. Only once, late at night, as I pulled in the driveway, there he was peering out my office window through the sheer curtain: tall, slender, dark hair, smooth shaven. I am quite thankful that I knew it wasn't a burglar as I'd have looked like a kook if I'd have called the police & no one was in the building.

Final known sighting was a few nights ago, by my new beau. We were alone here, mere feet from 'the spot', when he announced, "I just saw someone in your office!"

I laughed, "Well, is he still there?"
He replied, "I don't know. I'm afraid to look. I don't want to know!"

The most interesting part of the tale- it is impossible for one to stand & look out of my window as there is a very large wide desk blocking access to it.

10 comments:

  1. I gained three pounds just reading this. Any more of jin's tales and I'll have to increase my exercise program...beyond lifting this glass, putting it down, and then traveling to the rest room.

    My own experience with ghosts prompts me to suggest 2 things. First, tell us about the history of the building that currently contains your shoppe. Second, consider that the ghost may be in love with you and is somewhat put out by the parade of suitors that come and go...as the calories do them in.

    PS Actually I prefer tarts to truffles...the pastry not the female kind.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I envy you.

    I wish I had a ghost in the house.

    It would be fun.

    (Traveling to the restroom is always good exercise. Don't feel sorry for yourself, and set an example to the younger generation. Go with pride. Go with determination. And don't stumble on a tart as you make your way.)

    ReplyDelete
  3. There's a ghost in my bathroom. He always looks in the window over the sink. Scares the bloody hell out of me. My cat sees ghosts in that window too.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Ahhh... 'tis the optimum time o the year for my jinfamous fruit tarts... pity I've none left right now though. Wait! How about a bite of this? Please, help yourself, while I reply.

    ReplyDelete
  5. The Building History
    Twas built by distant relatives in 1935 for my Dads Aunt & 2 Uncles. The 2 Uncles were semi-retired Catholic Priests & the Aunt was a woman, which entitled her to what women generally got in those days... the right to live in the house with them as long as she acted as a full-time maid for the Priests & their numerous guests.
    (My female business sense/assertiveness/desire to never have children- clashes horribly with my belief that I truly do belong in the kitchen. ;-)
    Oh! The wild part: this neighborhood was full of small businesses & elderly folks so the Uncles put a Church in the basement! (Alter, a few pews, etc.) Actually that's how I was able to get the building zoned properly for my shoppe, the block was dotted with burger joints, bars (none quite as nice as this one ;-) & one lonely paint store. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

    As the trio got too old to maintain this beautiful two story brick home my parents offered to help them & did so for many years until there was only one left. He gave my parents the house, who in turn gave it to me more than 10 years ago.
    First floor is the pastry shoppe, second floor is where I live.
    Thankfully, the ghost in my window is not one of the relatives as I know what they all looked like (and that'd just be typical creepy incestuous Wisconsin-type behaviour on the ghosts part... eww). *shudder*

    ReplyDelete
  6. Drat, where are my manners? That previous comment was aimed @jazzolog. It's been a long day, 16 hours & counting after a restless 4 hours of sleep. I think even 1/2 a beer would do me in right now. *yawn*

    ReplyDelete
  7. @Quinty
    I actually have more than one ghost here... I'll send one your way. I'm thinking you might enjoy the noisy one I have. Always banging things. Yes, yes... you'll like him.
    *giggle*

    ReplyDelete
  8. @Lockwood
    Animals are very attuned to ghosts. I have a beautiful Golden Retriever now, Brioche (she's named after the French breakfast bread, of course ;-) & she'll watch things in my office that I certainly can't see. I always wonder what goes through her head. She never get scared & never barks so I'm assuming that's a good sign.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Hopefully you got a better night's sleep. I've been restless too, possibly that Full Strawberry Moon that's been blazing away through the thunderclouds this week.

    So of course we should have fresh strawberries in that jinfamous tart. Raspberries now must be from Ecuador or somewhere. Ah, jin in June: what could be better?

    So the building, from its creation, has been a family affair. And you know even what those distant relatives looked like? It certainly seems to be a protector spirit of some kind...but somehow connected to you and your well-being rather than the structure itself.

    You're aware of the presence but only others, and only men, see it. Could it be you are suggesting it to those acquaintances and your imagery is so strong as to produce a visualization? I'm just thinking off the top of my head. Certainly as you describe your pastries, I'm not alone in actually tasting them in my mouth! You may have a special spiritual power you don't know about yet.

    Anyway, the spirit does not appear to have met a violent demise and therefore is hanging around to haunt the place. That's a good thing. If you're content to have the ghost, be at peace. If you want him to move on, I suggest seance and actual contact---although some ghosts don't like that.

    Maybe I'll have to write my own thing about ghosts someday. I grew up very close to Lily Dale in New York. Anyone ever heard of that spiritualist community?

    ReplyDelete
  10. I would like to have a ghost who's at least two or three hundred years old. A ghost that's been around for awhile. One who lived in the midst of things during his time. He or she could be a San Cullote or an English barrister. One who lived in London during the time of George III or in Paris during the Revolution. I would like to know what it was like to live under those kings. What the scent was, how to properly interpret Handel. What it was like to walk through the Louvre the first time when “the people” were allowed in.

    Maybe my spook could go further back and tell me what it was like to sit in church on a Sunday and listen to Bach conduct his orchestra and choir. If we have the interpretation right today. Or a ghost who saw the sea from an 18th century brig, who sat on the bowsprit with the foam flying in his face. What was it like? What has he learned in all these years? What can he tell me as I reach my own end, knowing I know nothing, none of the answers, and that perhaps it is impossible to really know. That we are born in mystery and leave in mystery. What wisdom could that ghost have gathered over the centuries, watching, thinking, perhaps finally understanding. Could he unravel some basic questions of mine regarding human nature? Questions which, in time, became merely elementary to him and obvious?

    I would be friends with this ghost. Why should we be enemies? I would set out warm milk for him at night and perhaps put things on the stereo to lull his nerves as he paces. Music he likes. And during the day I would respect his rest. If there were a special corner of the house where he would like to sleep I would keep the sun out. It would be quiet and tranquil there.

    If the ghost roared, if he hollered and banged pots and pans around I would ignore him. What can he do to me in his immaterial state afterall? We are conditioned to believe we should be afraid when we see a ghost. No need for that. Laugh at his childish tantrums, ignore his fits and shows of pique. He can either be a friend or not. But let him know who’s boss. That this is your house and not his. And that he has to behave himself. After all, we have all come upon fits and piques upon our blogs. Immaterial voices out of nowhere who throw tantrums. Eventually, all that becomes tiresome. And they are 86d. Same is true of ghosts. An ill behaved ghost is an undisciplined ghosts. Surely there must be professionals out there who know how to train them.

    But I expect my ghost to be a serious fellow, a wise friend and guide who, having been around so much longer, will answer some of my questions. Who will offer his insight and understanding of history and human nature. A ghost who will bring the light of wisdom.

    That’s not too much to ask.

    ReplyDelete