Grumpy Old Man

Shortly after "The Man On The Second Story" experience, I moved out of my parents' home. Not because of 'the man', but because I had been there three years since my divorce and it was time for me to grow up and move out.

I wanted to buy a house, but I wasn't quite in the right position, so I decided to rent the cheapest little apartment I could in order to save money. I found one in a run down part of Mesa for $400/month. It was a little two-bedroom in a fourplex. It was really tiny, but it was just my son and I, so we didn't need much. Upon entering the flimsy front door, you would enter a tiny little family room area, which opened up to a tiny little eating area in a corner and a tiny little kitchen, which felt crowded if more than one person stood in it. Just off the kitchen was a tiny little hallway with one bathroom and two bedrooms. I moved in and settled down. Though it was small and probably about as sturdy as a cardboard box, I was excited to start my true independence. I hung little pictures and put fake plants around, trying to make it as homey as possible.

With the exception of the major street noise, and the fact that it was old and had years of other people's filth speckled throughout, it wasn't a bad place and it was starting to feel like home.

But, as I'm sure you've gathered from my other stories, the peace doesn't last around me. Some have speculated that I maybe thrive on a crisis, but honestly I would love to have a peaceful life with little to no drama.

The disturbances started about a month into our move in. My son's room was on the opposite end of the hall (about 4-5 steps away). Our doors faced each other and I put my desk on the wall by the door so that when I typed late at night, he could have the light from my room shining in his room. He would lay on the end of his bed that allowed him to look out of his door and see me. This gave him comfort and I was fine with it.

One night I was typing. It wasn't too late. Maybe only 9:00 PM. My son wasn't in school yet. He was only 4, so I sometimes let him stay up later. About a half hour after I tucked him into bed and began my typing I heard him call out my name, so I removed my headphones and looked across the small hallway over at him. "What, honey?" I sighed.

"I don't like that man, mommy" he replied. His little face was contorted into a disapproving look.

I thought perhaps he was referring to 'the man' from my parents' home. In an attempt to reassure him that those days were past I said, "Oh honey. We don't live there anymore, so you won't see a man anymore, okay?"

He sighed a little sigh and scrunched his eyebrows together. "Well, he's right there, mommy".

The sensation of a thousand tiny pins stung all over my skin. My heart pounded into action. I gulped hard. "You see a man again?" He frowned and nodded. I started to pant. I tried not to, but my body took over.

"Well, it's a different man, mommy", he said. This comforted me slightly, but only slightly. I wondered who THIS man was and what HE could possibly want. I was tired, I had a lot of work to do and I did not have time to mess with any man, so I advised my son to "just turn over and look the other way, honey. He won't hurt us". My obedient little son sighed and threw himself onto his other side, eventually drifting off to sleep. I furrowed my brow and continued typing, thinking to myself, "You better not do anything, whoever you are. I will make you so sorry. And you had especially better not mess with my son". Somehow this made me feel powerful to think this way, although I honestly had no idea how I'd get revenge on a ghost.

As the weeks carried on, my son occasionally spoke of 'the man', but it seemed to be only rare occasions and I never saw, heard or felt anything, so I didn't feel any sort of threat. So life carried on.

Every other weekend my son spent a couple of nights at his dad's house, so I had the apartment to myself, but I always seemed to be having a party and my friend, Stephanie, slept over a lot. I had two couches that faced each other in the family room, so we usually watched a movie on those or just talked in the dark until we fell asleep.

And then it happened - I found myself home alone one weekend. I wasn't even thinking worried thoughts. I had forgotten about 'the man'. But he hadn't forgotten about me. I stayed up working a bit. The walls in the fourplex were paper thin and the young married couple occupying the unit next to mine shared a bedroom wall with me. Apparently they could hear me typing through the wall, though my computer was on the opposite wall, and on this night they knocked hard on the wall and called out, "We're trying to sleep". I froze. I just sat there and my jaw dropped. I thought, "Wow! They can hear this? That is ridiculous!" But I don't like to be inconsiderate if I can help it, so I decided to stop typing for the night. It was nearly midnight and I yawned suddenly. It was a long, deep yawn and it brought me to the realization that I was dead tired, so I slumped out of my chair, got ready for bed and then climbed in between the covers, settling down for a good, long sleep.

Just as I felt myself drifting off, my entire bed shook. My bed was a wooden daybed at the time. It belonged to me in high school and my parents let me take it with me since I had no furniture of my own and they had no use for it. It was just a single bed. Very small. But it was just me, so it's all I needed. My eyes opened suddenly and I lay there very still. "Wow. I'm more tired than I thought", I thought to myself. I closed my eyes again and immediately started drifting off. That's when I heard loud, shuffling footsteps on the carpet. I squinted my eyes together tight and thought, "Okay, I'm seriously hallucinating now". I turned over in my bed to face the wall and cozied up under the covers, trying to drift off again.

My whole bed shook again. I shot straight up in bed. This time I worried that it might be more than a hallucination. I blinked in the darkness and looked around my tiny little room. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I heaved an angry sigh and threw myself back hard on my pillow, staring at the ceiling. I suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable. I laid awake, just staring straight upward, wondering what would happen next and wondering what I should do if something did happen again.

Just then the whole bottom end of my bed lifted up off the floor as if someone was standing at the foot of my bed and lifting it up and shaking it, then setting it back down.

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. What do I do?" I cried softly to myself. I closed my eyes and felt the hot tears forming in my eyes. My entire bed shook again. I glanced over at my alarm clock. By this time it was 12:30 AM. I had nowhere to go. I felt like I couldn't go wake my parents with this "craziness", so I just laid in bed - completely helpless.

"Go away, please," I moaned softly. I suddenly felt an overwhelming heaviness in the room. I felt like it was mad at me. It wanted me gone. It was trying to scare me now. "I have nowhere to go right now. It's so late. Just let me sleep. I'll move out as soon as I can, okay?" I sobbed it out loud, keeping as quiet as I could so as not to disturb my neighbors. Suddenly the heaviness left the room and I felt like I could breathe again. I sucked in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. I felt it quiver as it left my body. Eventually I was able to settle down and go to sleep.

A few weeks passed and nothing happened. I felt confident that the ghost man understood my dilemma and was being patient with me - giving me a chance to get out as soon as I could. I was signed into a year-long contract and only 2 1/2 months had passed. An incident happened one night after my son fell asleep where I felt the presence in my room as I typed. I took my headphones off, set them in my lap and looked up at the ceiling and spoke aloud to the presence. "I know. I know. I said I'd leave and I will. But I'm stuck in a lease and I don't know if I can get out of it. You'll just have to be patient with me, okay?" I felt the presence leave and I felt like everything would be okay until the lease ran out at least.

I was wrong. I usually am. Though these presences have haunted me for 11 years, I still don't understand how they work. They're so unpredictable.

An old friend of mine called me one day. She said she had a cute cousin she wanted to set me up with. Everyone was always trying to set me up. I was a single mom and they all felt sorry for me - not that I'm complaining. I enjoyed going on dates, especially with "cute cousins". I accepted the setup and a few nights later, the "cute cousin" arrived on my doorstep and he was indeed cute. And fun. He took me out on a date to the Arizona State Fair. We had a great time there and seemed to have a bit of a connection, so when he took me back to my apartment, I invited him in. He accepted my invitation and entered my apartment. I offered him a couch, "any couch. Take your pick", I said, motioning to the two couches and standing back, allowing him to choose. He chose the couch that faced the hallway. I sat on the couch opposite and we began visiting. As our conversation progressed, I noticed he kept glancing over at the dark hallway, squinting his eyes funny and then kind of shaking off whatever he thought he was seeing and looking back at me.

I noticed he kept glancing back at the hallway, a look of concern growing on his face. I finally sat forward, glanced back at the hallway and asked, "What's going on? Are you okay?" He started to pant and looked over at me quick. I saw the terror in his eyes.

"Nothing", he lied. "It's nothing. Anyway, what was I saying?" I reminded him and he began to finish his story. He glanced back over at the hallway again and suddenly stopped mid sentence. His jaw dropped open slightly and he started to turn his head toward me, keeping his eyes fixated on a spot in the hallway.

"I'm sorry", he interrupted himself. "Did you say you lived here with someone? A roommate or something?"

I made a face, "No. Well...my son, but he's with his dad. Why do you ask?"

"Oh", he said. I noticed beads of sweat forming on his brow. He lifted his hand and wiped it off, examining it and chuckling a nervous laugh. "Anyway", he laughed.

He started back on his story and I pulled my legs up and curled into the couch, listening attentively. He was cute and I enjoyed talking to him. I was glad he had decided to come in and talk more. Just then he jumped up in his seat, looking at the hallway, a very concerned look on his face, "I've gotta go", he panted. "I've gotta' go right now".

"Oh", I replied in a disappointed tone. "Okay...well..."

He walked briskly toward the door before I even had a chance to get up off the couch. He fiddled with the locks and jerked the door open hard, exiting into the street and practically running to his truck. I couldn't believe it. His behavior was erratic. It didn't make any sense. We were having a perfectly good conversation...or so I thought. I slumped against the door frame, completely disappointed and watched him fumble with his keys as he desperately tried to unlock his truck door.

"It was fun", he called over his shoulder. "Thanks for going out. Have a good one". Then he jumped up in, started his truck and squealed furiously out of the parking lot, disappearing around the corner and leaving me standing there, completely astonished. I lingered a few seconds in the doorway and then shrugged and sighed. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, laying my head back and wondering, "What in the world just happened? He said 'have a good one'. What does that mean? Is that like, 'see ya' never?'"

Just then I realized - he must have seen him - the man. The ghostly man in my hallway. That grumpy old man must have grown impatient with me and the disturbances I was causing in his territory. He had grown tired of waiting and decided to take matters into his own hands. I decided it wasn't worth it to battle him. I had no power against him. No resources. No time. No money. I decided to try to get out of the lease ASAP.

I called my sister. She and her husband had just built a large home in Queen Creek and she had mentioned she was lonely out there in the rural countryside. "Sonia, I have GOT to get out of here. This place is haunted. I swear there's an old man in here that does NOT want me around!"

"Are you serious? What's going on?" she asked. I explained the events and she promised me she'd ask her friend whose dad owned the fourplex if he knew anything about any of the previous tenants.

Sure enough - there was a story. There was an old man who lived and died in that unit. He was a grumpy old man who kept to himself. Didn't really like to socialize. I was a very social person, having people over constantly and bringing a son with me, a young, energetic son. He did not appreciate us and he wanted us out. I was happy to oblige. I called my landlord who was fine to let me out of my lease early and I moved out within two weeks.