Shhhh-thump, shhhh-thump, shhhh-thump, there’s that sound again. I hear it above me in the attic and always, I mean always, at 5:30AM on the dot.
We moved into our beautiful old home 23 days ago and I’m more than a little freaked out by it but too afraid to go look in the attic. I’ve dragged Mom and Dad in here a couple times and they don’t hear a darned thing. Old ears I guess.
More later.
Well, mystery solved. We have a ghost. No, I’m not kidding, we have a bonafide ghost living in our house. A ghost who likes to wake up at 5:30AM. This time doesn’t work for me, BTW.
When the sounds started this morning I was ready. I grabbed my flashlight, walked to the end of the hall to the door leading to the attic, took a deep breath, and opened the door. I was in the right place, the shhhh-thump sound was growing louder.
I walked up the stairs and peeked over the place where the hand rail meets the attic floor. There he was, sure as shit, an old man making his way to the corner of the room, his walker in front of him, shhhh-thump, shhhh-thump, shhhh-thump.
I took a deep breath and finished off the final few steps, and said “Hello.”
The old man stopped, turned around, smiled at me, and asked if I’d like to join him for his morning coffee. I accepted.
We sat around the old two top we found in the attic the day we arrived. He’s a happy old fart. He talked about his undying love for his wife, Lois, and how they enjoyed each other’s company, over coffee, at 5:30AM every morning, rain or shine.
Eventually I had to politely dismiss myself, school and all that. It’s nice to have a new friend and, at the same time, understand why every morning at 5:30AM I hear shhhh-thump, shhhh-thump, shhhh-thump.
Maybe I can get some earplugs?
Oh, the old man’s name is Julius. I hope to have coffee with him again soon.