Like most Americans, I was raised with the firm belief that there is no such thing as a ghost. I honestly did not believe. When my good friends, who were living in the upstairs apartment of this old house, told stories of inexplicable happenings, I thought they were simply embellishing things for the pure and entirely justifiable motive of entertainment, for the sake of a good story. I never considered that they were sincere.
When my best friend Karl moved away to school, my little daughter and I moved in to his former bedroom, sharing the apartment with our mutual friend Kevin. It is hard to imagine the spaciousness of the upstairs floor by looking at this house from the outside. Two sizable bedrooms, a large living room, a dining area with a full kitchen, and a bath. There was also access to the roof. It was the early 70's in a college/military town, and that much floor space for such a low rent was a mighty bargain. In the living room, there was a wall mural of a sunrise in the psychedelic style of the late '60s. On an adjacent wall, there was a 48" high completed portrait of a long haired hippie looking straight ahead, which gave it the disconcerting illusion of looking directly at you wherever you were. Next to the completed portrait, there was a similar face blocked in with plain areas of color minus any detail, and last was the bare bones pencil sketch of a third large face. People assumed the completed face was that of the ghost haunting the premises, so the painting and the spirit were named "Aqualung". The story was that the artist had lost his hand before he completed the three portraits. The artwork was so well done that despite an unknown number of tenants, no one had ever painted over the portraits or the sunrise. The decor was decidedly "hippie chic". The artwork and the story of the unfortunate artist added to the charm.
The night I moved in, I had just completed unpacking our very meager belongings then sat down on the foot of the bed for a cigarette. My roommate sitting next to me, said, "I wonder how long it will be before Aqualung let's you know he's here?" I snorted in light derision. I loved my friends but I sincerely did not believe their stories. I sincerely did not believe in ghosts, either. As soon as those words were spoken, from within the closet to our right came three sharp, distinct, loud, unmistakable knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. Kevin was laughing and I was incredulous. It sounded exactly like someone had rapped their knuckles on the wooden panel in the old closet door - someone with physical knuckles and plenty of muscle power. Freaky.
It was a very active spirit and I soon had no choice but to believe. So many inexplicable things happened. Kevin owned a large English sheepdog, and Aqualung tormented that poor dog. Daisy would be sound asleep, curled up and snoring in the middle of the living room floor when something would startle that dog into instant wakefulness. She would startle awake and jump to her feet at the same time. She would look around but there was never anyone near her. We witnessed this often.
For a short time, we also had 3 black cats. As typical of cats, they would quietly arrange themselves around the room, resting on the backs or the arms of the couches. Many times all three cats, from their 3 different locations in the room, would silently and inscrutably watch something only they could see move through the room. Watching the cats calmly regard something we could not see travel through the room, all three of their heads moving in perfect synchronization of speed and direction was freaky indeed. This also was a common occurrence.
The cat food was purchased in bulk and kept in the pantry off the kitchen. The doorknob had long been lost, so a butter knife shoved into the square hole allowed us to open the door. You had to twist the knife like a doorknob in order to open the door. There was no halfway on that door - it was either shut and latched, or it was visibly ajar. I was at the dining room table one afternoon, quietly smoking a cigarette, my mind in neutral. The three cats were stationed in a semi-circle outside the door, sitting on their haunches, their tails wrapped around their feet. They were patiently staring at the door. I too happened to be looking at the door. It was flush into the doorjamb, which meant it was latched and the only way to open it was to twist that knife. Right before my astonished eyes that door swung wide open. The cats all looked at one another and proceeded to calmly walk into the pantry, jump lightly into the big bag of food and enjoy an afternoon meal.
Aqualung seemed to delight in giving non-believers a chill. A guy I was seeing at the time absolutely did not believe any of our stories. He thought we were full of it. During the early preparations for a New Year's Eve party, I was getting something out of the refrigerator. The disbeliever was leaning against the door leading into the living room. He was facing directly at the stereo set-up, just a few feet away. It was the 70's and everyone had component stereos with a tuner, a turntable, enormous speakers - and the whole array was full of lights and dials. If the units were on, there was no mistaking it because all the lights would be glowing on all of the electronic units. I said, "I wonder if Aqualung will come to the party?" The disbeliever snorted, just exactly the way I did the first night I moved in. Right in front of our eyes, that stereo came alive with lights, blasting music loudly through all the speakers in the living room! I was laughing because the look on the disbeliever's face was priceless. He was stunned. He simply could not believe what had just happened. I admit, it gave me a chill, too, though by then I was used to strange, inexplicable events.
It was a day or two after our New Year's party when my roommate Kevin, and the (former) disbeliever and I were sitting in the living room, listening to music. We were all very quiet and all very much appreciating the music - very mellow as we would say back in the day. The album had come to the end and in the silence, I heard the most terrifying inhuman moan I have ever heard in my life. It instantly horrified me, sending chills up my spine. I was not looking directly at my roommate, so I thought he had made that sound to scare me. I was instantly angry! "You son of a bitch! That is not funny!" He was laughing so hard at my reaction but he steadfastly denied making the noise. The disbeliever, sitting right next to me, did not hear anything at all and was entirely baffled as to why I was cussing at my laughing roommate. He kept asking us to explain! To this day, I do not know if my roommate Kevin made that sound. He has always denied it. To my knowledge, he had never played a trick like that at any other time. (No one needed to fake strange occurrences in that apartment!) The other thing is that I do not know how a human being could make that sound anyway. It was unlike anything I have ever heard before or since. It was terrifying.
Eventually I found another place to live. Kevin's Army tour came to an end so he returned home to Wisconsin. Some weeks after Kevin left, I went to visit the fellows who next rented that place. They were full of stories. They were not happy about the things that happened there. They were disturbed, in fact, but I had to laugh. I knew exactly what they were going through.
Fast forward several years. Karl and I were housemates in an entirely different town, and on our way to Arkansas in a van with a group of scuba divers taking their first open water dive for NAUI certification. It was a long ride to Beaver Lake, Arkansas so there was time for a lot of discussion. Karl and I were talking about the things that happened in the haunted apartment. One of the women scuba divers suddenly spoke up. "I know that apartment! It is haunted! We knew the guy who lived there. He was an artist and he hung himself in the closet." Karl and I were entirely stunned. To run into a person who knew the facts of that place - years later and miles away - was like independent, third-party validation even though we did not need it. We had both lived in that apartment and knew exactly the strange things that happened there. The coincidence of someone in that random group of people knowing about that particular apartment was crazy.
Freaky.
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