Monday, August 16, 2004
Who Ya Gonna Call?
Over in my brother's latest post, he mentions some ghost stories from his past. Seems like a good time to tell you a ghost story of my own.
Cape May, NJ, where I make my living, is one of the oldest seaside resorts in the country. It is a quaint little town, full of old Victorian buildings and lots of history. It is, in fact, the only township in the country to be entirely designated as a National Historic Landmark. It is also haunted. Ghost stories in Cape May are a common occurrence. There are books written on the subject, and several different companies run ghost tours of Cape May, highlighting the homes with the most super-natural activity. The local weekly free newspaper, Exit Zero, even has a column written by a professional medium who goes to a different location every week and details his findings (you can read it by clicking on the link I just gave you). Sometimes it all comes across as a bit hokey, but I am here to tell you that it is all true.
Here's the story. A few years ago, I was waiting tables at one of the biggest restaurants in town. Over time, I was put into a position with some kind of authority, and on Thursday nights I was left in charge to close the place up (which was actually a really great gig, as it entailed sitting in the office, watching cable TV, and drinking free beer while waiting for the bar customers to go home). Now, I had heard stories that our building was one of the many in town that was haunted. I always took things like that with a grain of salt, but I couldn't deny the creepy feeling I got whenever I would walk through the empty upstairs dining room at night ( we had the main room downstairs, which also housed the bar; the upstairs was really only used during the peak summer season for overflow, and as such was dark and empty most of the year). One of my good friends there reported one time to have seen 2 young children out of the corner of his eye playing in the upstairs dining room, which was closed at the time. Upon closer investigation, there was no one there. For the record, he was not the type to make up goofy stories like that, and I for one believed him.
Before continuing, let me give you a brief description of how the building is set up so you can envision the rest of the story: There are stairs at the front of the main room that go up to the overflow dining room; at the back of that upstairs room is a doorway, which leads to a hallway. Off this hallway are two storage rooms, the office, and stairs that go down into the kitchen. Going through the kitchen, you can then exit the main kitchen doors and be back in the main room. It's like a big circle.
So, one Thursday night I'm closing up. The only 2 people left in the building are myself and the bartender. All I need to do is bring the cash drawer upstairs before leaving. I let the bartender out so he could go home and locked the door behind him. I went up the front steps, through the dining room, down the hall, and into the office. After putting all the money away, I went down the back stairs into the kitchen, through the kitchen, and into the main room. Now, after entering the main room from the kitchen, just to the left is where all the cups, silverware, and coffee stuff is set up. I stopped for a moment to make sure all the coffee burners had been turned off...when the kitchen doors swung back open and hit me in the shoulder, immediately followed by the muffled sound of little footsteps running away at great speed. Instinct kicked in first, as I ran into the kitchen to see who was fucking with me, then quickly remembered that I had let the only other living soul out of the building 5 minutes ago. If someone had been there, the footsteps running through the kitchen would have been followed by the same sound going up the stairs. I was greeted with silence. Then there was the sound of my own footsteps, getting me the hell out of the building as quickly as possible.
Of course, I probably didn't need to run. My theory is that the same 2 children that my friend had seen out of the corner of his eye were the ones who hit me with the door and ran away; they were just playing around. Whether I should have felt threatened or not, it was still a creepy experience.
Cape May, NJ, where I make my living, is one of the oldest seaside resorts in the country. It is a quaint little town, full of old Victorian buildings and lots of history. It is, in fact, the only township in the country to be entirely designated as a National Historic Landmark. It is also haunted. Ghost stories in Cape May are a common occurrence. There are books written on the subject, and several different companies run ghost tours of Cape May, highlighting the homes with the most super-natural activity. The local weekly free newspaper, Exit Zero, even has a column written by a professional medium who goes to a different location every week and details his findings (you can read it by clicking on the link I just gave you). Sometimes it all comes across as a bit hokey, but I am here to tell you that it is all true.
Here's the story. A few years ago, I was waiting tables at one of the biggest restaurants in town. Over time, I was put into a position with some kind of authority, and on Thursday nights I was left in charge to close the place up (which was actually a really great gig, as it entailed sitting in the office, watching cable TV, and drinking free beer while waiting for the bar customers to go home). Now, I had heard stories that our building was one of the many in town that was haunted. I always took things like that with a grain of salt, but I couldn't deny the creepy feeling I got whenever I would walk through the empty upstairs dining room at night ( we had the main room downstairs, which also housed the bar; the upstairs was really only used during the peak summer season for overflow, and as such was dark and empty most of the year). One of my good friends there reported one time to have seen 2 young children out of the corner of his eye playing in the upstairs dining room, which was closed at the time. Upon closer investigation, there was no one there. For the record, he was not the type to make up goofy stories like that, and I for one believed him.
Before continuing, let me give you a brief description of how the building is set up so you can envision the rest of the story: There are stairs at the front of the main room that go up to the overflow dining room; at the back of that upstairs room is a doorway, which leads to a hallway. Off this hallway are two storage rooms, the office, and stairs that go down into the kitchen. Going through the kitchen, you can then exit the main kitchen doors and be back in the main room. It's like a big circle.
So, one Thursday night I'm closing up. The only 2 people left in the building are myself and the bartender. All I need to do is bring the cash drawer upstairs before leaving. I let the bartender out so he could go home and locked the door behind him. I went up the front steps, through the dining room, down the hall, and into the office. After putting all the money away, I went down the back stairs into the kitchen, through the kitchen, and into the main room. Now, after entering the main room from the kitchen, just to the left is where all the cups, silverware, and coffee stuff is set up. I stopped for a moment to make sure all the coffee burners had been turned off...when the kitchen doors swung back open and hit me in the shoulder, immediately followed by the muffled sound of little footsteps running away at great speed. Instinct kicked in first, as I ran into the kitchen to see who was fucking with me, then quickly remembered that I had let the only other living soul out of the building 5 minutes ago. If someone had been there, the footsteps running through the kitchen would have been followed by the same sound going up the stairs. I was greeted with silence. Then there was the sound of my own footsteps, getting me the hell out of the building as quickly as possible.
Of course, I probably didn't need to run. My theory is that the same 2 children that my friend had seen out of the corner of his eye were the ones who hit me with the door and ran away; they were just playing around. Whether I should have felt threatened or not, it was still a creepy experience.
