Recently, I moved into a new apartment over in the Fan. It's super convenient to MBM - on nice days, I can easily walk. Aside from being convenient, it's also full of 1920s charm, as the building was built in 1926. I live in the apartment with my two cats, collection of hand-me-down family furniture, and too many shoes.
When lounging in the apartment, I typically sport my comfortable ballet-flat style slippers. They're pink fabric slip-ons with a safety-first rubber sole. When the time comes for me to put normal shoes back on, I just rip off my slippers and carelessly toss them on the floor in my bedroom.
Recently, I noticed that my slippers seemed to keep ending up in the hallway just outside of my bedroom. I didn't think that much of it, figuring that my cats were maybe bored and knocking the slippers around.
However, as the slippers continued to migrate from bedroom to hall, I wasn't able to catch a cat in the act. Also, it seemed a little bizarre that the slippers kept moving to the same one spot in the hall and never any further.
One weekend recently, it really began to sink in how often the slippers mysteriously moved themselves into the hall. After finding them in the hall 3 times within a 16 hour period, I opted to deliberately place them for tracking purposes (as any good marketer would do).
I left the slippers sitting on a bench in my room, stacked neatly on top of each other, and went to work.
When I came home at lunch and opened the front door, the slippers greeted me silently from the hall. They were neatly stacked on top of each other, just as I'd left them 3 hours prior.
Quickly, I processed the possibility of one of my cats pulling the slippers OFF of the bench, into the hall, and leaving them perfectly stacked. Determining that this was NOT very likely, I embraced the more likely possibility - my bedroom was haunted!!
After a brief freak-out phone call to my mother, I left the slippers in the hall and went back to work.
Upon leasing the apartment in January, I had been "warned" by the previous tenant that the
downstairs apartment was haunted by a 1920s man in a bowler hat. As I replayed the image of my neatly stacked slippers in my head, I was annoyed at myself for foolishly thinking that ghostly occurrences would be limited to the first floor.
Over the rest of the day, I wondered about my next steps. Do I tell my landlord and hope for discounted rent? Does ghostly activity allow one to break a lease? Should I be contacting FX to schedule a ghost hunt television show to come by? Did my ghost have issues with my feet? Would a pedicure fix everything? Is my bedroom the gateway to hell?
After work, I returned home, only to throw open the front door and discover that the slippers had disappeared from the hallway. Fighting the urge to run outside and throw a scared temper tantrum, I entered the apartment, discovering 1 slipper back in the bedroom and the other missing.
The MIA slipper was nowhere to be found. After searching the floors and various low-level knocks and crannies, I began searching inside dresser drawers and closets. Does the ghost really feel that strongly about my slippers?? Had it really sucked the slipper away to the seventh portal of hell?
Shortly after, I discovered the missing slipper under my bed, in a favorite nap located of one of my cats. My hope of an appearance on Ghost Hunters dwindling, I realized I was actually a little disappointed not to have a ghostly roommate.
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