When I was laying out 31 Ghosts: Volume 2 I noticed a lot of these editorials for the last two years focused on how busy I was and “this is going to be short because I have a long day” or “splitting this into a thousand entries because I’m working another gig this weekend.” I’ve deliberately tried not to do that this year. But by not mentioning it, I noticed I’ve not really said anything ahead of some of these stories and that doesn’t feel right either! So, okay, It’s Saturday night and I’m exhausted because I worked a 9-hour gig at a wedding which followed a 14-hour day Friday and Thursday, and Tuesday. Despite that, I’ve been trying hard to put in good, normal-sized stories. Tonight, though, the week is catching up to me. I feel this ghost right now.

Edit: I wrote the above fully expecting this to be a really short entry. It turned out to be more normal-sized than I expected. And now I’m going to sleep.

“Is he there?” the voice came through the radio.

I turned on the camera and focused it on the old wrought iron bed frame. Despite the lack of mattress and the rusty springs, through the lens of the camera a figure clearly lay on its side on the bed. Looking at the figure, though, it became immediately apparent that the figure wasn’t solid – you could see the far side of the bed through its prone body. 

“Yep,” I said assembling the tripod and fixing the camera looking at the figure, “he’s still here.”

“You sure you want to do this?”

The last time I made my way up to this bedroom in the deteriorating house I noticed a wooden chair mostly intact on its side in the corner. I set it upright and sat slowly, testing my weight to make sure the ancient thing wouldn’t shatter. It held and I let out a sigh of relief, “I am. I’ve got a comfortable chair here. I’ll be good.”

“It’s an hour until morning…”

“I’m three Red Bulls in,” I laughed. “I think I’m good.”

“I’ll check in periodically,” the voice came back.

I smiled, “Thanks, Dan.”

When I say this is a “deteriorating” house, I’m being kind. It’s one of a number of places that dot the hills of West Virginia, abandoned and slowly being reclaimed by nature. Dan and I started exploring the Appalachian hills at night looking for ghosts. Despite some seriously spooky discoveries, we never thought we’d come across something like this.

This location was a rare two-story house that once must have had a commanding view of the valley below. But the road up here washed out decades ago – we had to park on one side of the missing road and pack our equipment the remaining couple miles to the place. When we got here, it was further gone than we expected when we spotted it from in the valley – the face of the house with the amazing overlook still looked impressive, but like a sick patient who tries to put his best face on when he goes out in public even though his illness has consumed his body – that’s this place. Half the roof had fallen in, tearing the staircase down with it.

That’s why Dan is on the radio – he’s safely on the first floor. I’m the idiot who clambered up to the second floor on our first visit. But that first visit was also when I carefully made my way into the master bedroom, my foot plunging through the rotting floor once on the way. But there the figure was, laying on its side.

At first, I thought it was the homeowner still inhabiting house and almost ran out, but then I realized that, no, no one had been in this place for a long time – it was a hell of a thing climbing up to the second floor. Who would do that on a regular basis? No, this resident wasn’t living.

After getting over my initial terror, I started getting curious. It helped that the figure just seemed to be… sleeping. I mean, you expect ghosts to terrorize you – and most do! But this one… I mean, it kind of snored a little sometimes.

I tried to wake it up. I know, not the greatest idea – let sleeping ghosts lie, right? But we found a ghost! I guess we wanted it to… I don’t know… perform. I shouted at it to no avail. I even reached out to shake it awake. It’s a ghost, so you can imagine how well that went.

Dan had the idea at first. “Maybe, I don’t know, the ghost wakes up when morning comes?” he said as we ate in the Waffle House in Charles Town as the sun started to rise after the first visit.

“A ghost waking up? Ghosts come out at night, everyone knows that!”

“Do we? I mean, yeah, we always think of ghosts coming out at night, you know – haunting dark corridors and all that shit. But, we’ve both read about encounters that occur in daytime.”

“Right, but just because there are ghosts during daylight, that doesn’t mean ghosts sleep.”

“Why not?” Dan took a long sip of his Diet Coke.

“Why would ghosts sleep? I mean, that’s the whole thing, right? They’re not resting in peace.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But it’s worth trying, isn’t it?”

It was worth trying. We made plans for another visit later in the night so we could stay and see if the ghost woke up.

That’s why sat in the chair watching the translucent figure ostensibly sleeping with an unhealthy amount of energy drink coursing through my body.

It had been getting gradually lighter and the pre-dawn glow illuminated the interior of the house Dan and I had just seen by flashlight to this point. What previously looked creepy now just looked… sad. As the first rays of the morning shone through the broken eastern-facing windows, I stared around at the peeling wallpaper and thought about how people lived here and left for some reason – it’s one thing to ghost hunt in abandoned places, but it’s another to see the tragically sad reality in the literal light of day.

Dan’s voice on the radio pulled me out of my reverie. “Hey, Ali,” the radio crackled to life. “Looks like your ghost is waking up!”

I turned back to the figure and, sure enough, it looked like it was turning over and… stretching? Yawning?

The ghost sat up. I could see now that it was an elderly man, sparse white hair on his head had the look of bedhead. I could make out that he wore a faded and torn blue and white sleep shirt. He looked at me and froze.

Our eyes locked and now I was afraid.

“Why are you in my house?” the ghost demanded, accusingly.

“Umm,” I stammered – what a brave ghost hunter I was! “I, uh, we were exploring abandoned houses and found you sleeping here.”

He scowled and the sight was immediately terrifying… until an enormous yawn interrupted his scowl. Seemingly aware his scare wasn’t so scary after the yawn he said in a more regular voice, “Okay, sure, that makes sense.” Then, more seriously, “But no one likes being watched when they’re sleeping! That’s creepy! And I’m a ghost! Nothing should be creepy to me!”

“So, you know you’re a ghost?” I asked surprised.

“Well, of course I know I’m a ghost – I’m dead, aren’t I? And I’m still here, so…” he gestured to himself, “ghost.”

“Why are you here then?”

He took a deep breath and started, “Sonny, I lived a very successful life.” He looked around the room and scowled, but it looked more sad than scary now. “It doesn’t look like much now, I suppose, but this was a pretty grand place when I was alive.” He smiled at a memory, “June loved this place…”

“Your wife?”

He nodded sadly. “She was, yes.”

“Don’t you want to go to her in… you know…” I gestured wildly, “In the great beyond or whatever? Go into the light?”

“Well, I don’t know she wants to me there. See, I was very successful because I worked all the time. ‘Married to my job,’ she’d say.” He smiled wryly, “She wasn’t wrong. I came home one day and she was gone. Left a note saying she wanted to live and not just wait around for me. She was a wonderful woman – I couldn’t blame her. I told myself I would go find her, but… work.”

“Okay,” I said, “but just because she may not want to see you, isn’t the Other Side like, I don’t know, big? You don’t have to see her right? Why not just go towards the light?”

“You want the truth, sonny?”

“I do!” I said, leaning forward in my chair.

“I’d work late into the night. June would sometimes come downstairs and admonish me to get some sleep. I always said the same thing – ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead.’” He smiled broadly, “So, here I am!”