On October 3rd, 2016, my family and I noticed a house for sale on Galbraith Line Road. It was a large English Tudor style home. We decided to check it out. Little did we know what we were in for.

My wife was a realtor. With a quick phone call, we were in.  When I walked through the front door, I noticed . . . something.  It hit me like an oppressive wall of “get out”.

It was neither the gloominess, nor the faulty electrical issues leaving the home without lights in most of the rooms. No, it was a palpable feeling that we had stepped into a place that we didn’t belong. It was so strong that I thought about turning around and leaving.

My wife and two daughters had already entered an adjoining living room, with their phone lights chasing back the gloom. Once in the room, my family started looking at pictures of an elderly couple stacked against a wall.

I reluctantly followed them into the room and saw the faint image of an elderly man sitting in a cushioned chair near the doorway. He looked to be in his eighties, had black rimmed glasses on, and wore an angry scowl. I only saw him for a second, then he was gone!

When I gasped, my wife said, “What?”

“Did . . .did . . . anybody see that?” I stammered.

“I don’t like it in here Dad,” my ten-year-old whispered.

“I saw a man, sitting right there.” I pointed at the old chair.

“Stop clowning around,” my business-minded wife ordered, as I was known to joke around more than I should.

The ladies exited the room, passing through a kitchen and into a long hallway, where one dim bulb was valiantly fighting a losing battle against the ever-encroaching shadows.

Once I joined them at the bottom of some stairs, my thirteen-year-old turned and looked at me. Simultaneously, my wife placed a foot on the bottom step. The dim bulb flickered, popped, and went out, leaving us in complete darkness.

A second before, I saw that my older daughter’s eyes were wide with fear and giant tears were rolling down her face. “Something’s very wrong here,” she whispered and then bolted out the front door.

Later we learned that an elderly couple had lived there for sixty years . . . and had recently died there.