The landlady had warned me before I signed the rental contract, “An eighty-six-year-old man died in the first bedroom,” she said, “I need to disclose that, before you move in, so you won’t quit suddenly without a thirty-day notice.”
I have to admit it sounded a little strange, but at the time I didn’t pay enough attention and I disregarded the comment as useless and unimportant. Later on, through the neighbors, I learned that the old man who died had lived here for fifteen years, after that, three new tenants moved in and out in rapid succession.
The house was old and unattractive, with a garage attached to the kitchen and living room. The family room was next to the dining room with a narrow hallway and three bedrooms. The floor plan was terrible. It had dark brown paint, dark brown carpet, dark brown vinyl floor in the kitchen and dining room. This could be the ugliest house on the block. I just couldn’t find anything attractive or pleasant about this house, but I’ve never been a person with many demands or requirements. Therefore, I signed the contract.
Before we moved in, I was installing shelves in the garage for my tools and other assorted useless stuff. It was still daylight, I was by myself when I heard a noise in the house like something heavy dropped to the floor.
I went to find out what it was. I checked every room and when I got in the first bedroom my body shivered and went back to the garage. I thought it was probably the wind slamming a door. Now, I must say that I have never been afraid of anything, except the landlord or as in this case the landlady, but only if I didn’t have the money to pay the rent.
I had been drinking a few beers while doing the shelves. Across the street, I saw a young kid running and hiding behind some trees. A patrol car stopped, and a cop came to ask me about the kid, and I told him, “Yeah, he went in that house.” Another patrol car stopped, and more cops came. Remember when I mentioned about things I’m afraid of? I forgot about the police.
I was afraid the cops could see the empty bottles of beer or smelled my breath, so I had to wait until they left before I could drive to my old house. It was getting dark, and I didn’t want to stay alone with my ‘new friend’ inside the house. I’m not afraid of apparitions or spirits, but sometimes I fall into the trap of my suggestive mind. If it’s dark and I’m alone I start thinking something might scare me and then, I really get scared, as it happened in this specific instance.
But nothing happened. The police left, and so did I.
But nothing happened. The police left, and so did I.
After a few weeks, the house was finally a home, I didn’t care about how ugly it was.
One time, I was alone in the house, watching TV in the living room. The volume on the TV was low; it was early at night when suddenly I heard the radio go on in one of the back rooms.
I thought it was the radio. A male voice, but only for two or three seconds. The sound was clearly louder than the TV. I turned the lights on and went to investigate. I checked in my bedroom where I have an alarm clock, but it was off. I had another radio, but it was unplugged. I thought it was very strange but I returned to watch the television.
As the days passed, we kept hearing noises, normal house noises like wood shrinking and swelling, or wind slamming doors.
Another day, I was reading in bed around 2:00 am when I heard the patio sliding door vibrating for a few seconds. I thought it was an earthquake, but nothing else shook. I convinced myself that it was my dog Diego pushing the glass door. Otherwise, I would have to get up to investigate and walk across the hallway (and the old man’s room) and I didn’t want to do that, not at 2:00 am.
Then it got really spooky. My wife was cooking in the kitchen, the radio was on. I was in my room, when suddenly the music got too loud. I jumped and ran straight to the living room. I was ready to scream at my wife, and ask her if she was crazy, but she was still in the kitchen, paralyzed, and had a look of terror. I could see from the kitchen the stereo system volume knob, turning up by itself as far as it could go.
Then it got really spooky. My wife was cooking in the kitchen, the radio was on. I was in my room, when suddenly the music got too loud. I jumped and ran straight to the living room. I was ready to scream at my wife, and ask her if she was crazy, but she was still in the kitchen, paralyzed, and had a look of terror. I could see from the kitchen the stereo system volume knob, turning up by itself as far as it could go.
When my daughter and my ten-month-old grandson Damian came to visit for a week, I put them in the old man's bedroom. At first, she said it was warm and comfortable, no complaints. They were happy, and I was happy. My grandson was as handsome and smart as his grandpa.
On her last night my daughter came into our room carrying her son.
“Dad, somebody's moving our bed, even Damian woke up. We’re staying in your room now.” then she asked me to get the small portable mattress we had in the living room for Damian to play on. I stood up very brave and self confident, but when I went past that 'room' my knees were shaking.
“Dad, somebody's moving our bed, even Damian woke up. We’re staying in your room now.” then she asked me to get the small portable mattress we had in the living room for Damian to play on. I stood up very brave and self confident, but when I went past that 'room' my knees were shaking.
The following day I knew I had to confront ‘my new friend’ like a man. He won't make me run away like the other tenants, after all, he’s not the one paying the rent. I moved my computer from the garage to 'his room'. That way I had to spend a lot of time in that room.
When my wife left for work, I began to speak and asked him the reasons why he was still here. I kept talking to him for a week, sometimes even in Spanish, but he suddenly disappeared. Or maybe I scared him off, or maybe he never existed. Just when I was feeling relaxed and comfortable I saw him.
When my wife left for work, I began to speak and asked him the reasons why he was still here. I kept talking to him for a week, sometimes even in Spanish, but he suddenly disappeared. Or maybe I scared him off, or maybe he never existed. Just when I was feeling relaxed and comfortable I saw him.
The bathroom door had a mirror on the inside, and before you close it, you could see that mirror and the one above the cabinet sink. So it's possible to see the front and back of yourself at the same time.
That’s when I saw him. Of course, it took me by surprise; I jumped back, and in a blink of an eye he wasn’t there anymore. I’m sure I saw him, but I’m not sure if he was inside the mirror or behind me. He was wearing a light blue suit and a tie. I think he wasn’t trying to scare me.
“So you’re here after all,” I said to him, “I hope you’re not shy. I have so many questions for you, what’s your name? Come on man, I know you know my name already, tell me yours” and then I heard a hesitant voice.
“My name’s Peter Shelby,” he answered in a soft, cavernous voice. Instead of getting scared I got genuinely excited.
“Tell me, are you with God, have you seen Him?” I asked him.
“Tell me, are you with God, have you seen Him?” I asked him.
“What a joke man, I was eighty-six years old when I died. My parents raised me a catholic and I have been a catholic all my life. I was baptized, I had my first communion, I took part in all the sacraments and I even gave them a small fortune in donations. But God is nowhere to be seen, maybe he is on vacation. I can’t believe I wasted so many hours of my life in church. I was afraid to commit sins and be punished, and it was all for nothing. I'm in Limbo. But I still hope he shows up.”
“You might be in Purgatory, and God could be undecided on what to do with you. Maybe you’re paying for some pending sins. Who knows?” I said.
“I hope you’re right because it’s boring here. That’s why I was making noises and trying to manifest my disappointment, I was trying to rebel against the unfair situation.”
"But why did you have to scare my daughter?"
“You weren’t paying attention to me; you were ignoring me, and that was very frustrating. Being alone, bored and ignored, I just couldn’t take it anymore, tell her I’m sorry.”
“No, you go tell her yourself. No, wait, just leave her alone, never mind. But answer me this, what’s your purpose in life? I mean, in death?”
“I have no idea, I think I need to do something but I don’t know what. My wife died three years before me. We were very happy in this ugly house. We spent our best years here.”
“And where do you think your wife is?”
“She must be in heaven; I guess. She was a much better person than I was. I wish I could communicate with her, be with her, and then maybe, I can ‘die’ in peace.”
“Okay, next question, do you eat, sleep, take showers, brush your teeth or go to the bathroom?”
“No, no, no, no, and no.”
“Can you cross walls or doors? Can you touch me or hit me? Do you touch the floor when you walk?”
“Yes, I can cross anything. No, I cannot hit you, although I tried a few times, ha, ha. I just float a couple of inches above the surface; I don’t need to sit or rest because I don’t need any energy. I’m dead.”
“I just need to tell you something; you can’t appear or manifest yourself in any way while my wife is here. Otherwise, she’ll bring the priest with his holy water and won’t rest until she makes you disappear for good.”
“But she seems to be such a nice lady. Well, sometimes.”
“Well, just consider yourself, warned. Oh, one more thing, how should I call you, Peter, Mr. Shelby, Poltergeist, Mr. Ghost, or what?”
“I don’t care; it’s not like I’m going to get mad and hit you, let’s just be friends and make the best of it, okay?”
“Okay Peter. Oh, one last thing, is there anything I can do for you? You know; to help you do something, find something. This is so weird man, talking to a ghost, no one would believe me.”
“If you start telling everybody that you can talk to a ghost, they’ll put you in a mental hospital. Oh, and yes, you can do something for me, I'd like to go to the cemetery and see what kind of grave my family bought for me.”
“Okay, it’s a done deal; we’ll go tomorrow morning. What time you want me to wake you up?”
“No need for that, I’ll be ready anytime.”
“Alright, see you tomorrow Peter.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
Then I opened the passenger door of my small pickup truck and after a few seconds I asked, “Are you in Peter?”
“Yes, I am. Thank you.”
“Okay, now, shut the door,” I said.
“How?” he replied.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Then, I went around and closed the passenger door.
“Okay, Peter, put your seat belt on.”
“Oh, you’re funny!”
“Peter you want to drive?”
Then, ignoring my last question, he said, “Man, you need to replace this old piece of junk.”
“Peter, you want to walk, you want me to call you a taxicab, or you want a limousine or . . . ?”
“Sorry, sorry, can we just go, already?”
As I started to drive I asked him, “Hey Peter, do you go out of the house, to walk or float around town?”
“I tried a couple of times, but I think the dogs can see me. They bark at me and I can’t stand it, it’s very annoying. They want to bite me and I want to kick them. Your little dog, what’s her name? Yes, Frida, when I go to the back yard, she can’t leave me alone, she follows me around and barks and barks, it’s so fastidious. I just don’t go to the patio anymore, but Diego, the other dog, he doesn’t know I exist. And he’s right.”
When we arrived at the graveyard, we looked for his grave because he couldn't remember where they put his corpse. When we found it, he immediately says, “Those cheap bastards, look at my wife’s grave. I bought her a top of the line, expensive tomb. Now look at mine, they used Saltillo tile! Even the headstone looks second hand, so small and ordinary. But at least someone brought me flowers, and they look fresh. There’s a note in them, can you please read it for me?”
"Yes, Peter. It says, 'I miss you, Uncle Peter. I hope you're happy wherever you are. I will always love you.'" signed by Nancy Shelby.
“Oh, my dear Nancy, my favorite niece, too bad I can’t cry.”
Back at the house, he asked me if I could write a letter for him, I agreed, and he begins dictating.
“My dearest Anais Neess:
I miss you more than you can imagine, please don’t disregard this note thinking it's just a joke, and please don’t be afraid; this seems unreal to me too. I’m still at the house. I don’t know why, but I’m taking advantage of it to let you know that I left some money for you. You’re the only beneficiary. I found my last friend in the person who's writing this note. He will give you more details on how to get this money. I didn’t put this in my will because I didn’t want the rest of the family to know about it.
I will keep you in my heart forever. I love you, Nancy.”
Peter Shelby.
After I searched for a few minutes on my computer, I found a government site for unclaimed money. A savings account under the name of Peter Shelby, $45,000,00 I wrote down some account numbers and other details and put a separate note along with the letter, and sent it to an address Peter gave me.
He said that Nancy was a nice girl and that she might give me a commission for helping her get this money. I said I didn’t care. Then I asked him if he could show himself again like he did in the bathroom mirror and he said, “I have no idea how that happened, but one time when I was watching the TV with your wife I saw my reflection on the TV screen.”
“You watch TV with my wife?”
“Yes, all the time. I sit right next to her all morning, but when she changes the channel to her Spanish soap operas, I just disappear from there. I like it when she listens to her music while cooking. We like the same kind of music except for her mariachi songs.”
“And how can you move things around, or make noises? I mean if you say you can’t touch anything.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I guess when I get too desperate or frustrated, I might have telekinetic powers, but I don’t know.”
I wanted to try another experiment with Peter, and I asked him to come out with me to the back yard.
“Okay Peter, what I’d like to do, with your permission, of course, is try to paint your body, soul or ghost or whatever. You just stand right here in the middle of the patio; I’ll bring my spray paint gun and some white paint and see what happens, okay?”
“Okay Peter, what I’d like to do, with your permission, of course, is try to paint your body, soul or ghost or whatever. You just stand right here in the middle of the patio; I’ll bring my spray paint gun and some white paint and see what happens, okay?”
“Okay, that sounds like fun.” he answered.
After I brought all the stuff I needed, I asked him if he wanted a mask and he said, “What for?” and then I said, okay, close your eyes, and then he said, “What for?”
“Okay, okay, just stand still,” I said, and started painting him. Then my little dog Frida comes around and starts barking. It seems like she’s barking at a ghost, she runs around him. We started laughing out loud, and that’s when my neighbor’s head appears above the fence and asks me, “Hey, what are you painting your dog for? Are you crazy or what?” Then I noticed Frida’s all white. I don’t know where Peter is, and I can’t stop laughing.
Before my wife came home from work I asked Peter if he wanted to do something next day. “Yes, if you don’t mind I’d like to go to church and have a talk with God because I don’t think he’s in this house.”
The following morning, after many years of absence I went to church again. I guess, I’ve been busy doing nothing, but the truth is that I don’t need intermediaries or priests or churches to talk to God.
When Peter finished with God, he whispered in my ear “Let’s go, I’m ready.”
On our way home he said, “I have a feeling that pretty soon we won’t be able to be together or communicate anymore. I want to tell you that I appreciate your friendship and your companionship very much. I hope someday I can see you in ‘my house’.”
When we returned to my house, we found a woman knocking on the front door.
“Hi, I live in this house, what can I do for you?” I asked her. She seemed to be in her thirties; she had a quiet and tender beauty, and she appeared to be a little shy.
“Hi, my name is Nancy Shelby, I believe I received a letter from you. At first, I thought it was a tasteless joke, so absurd and incredible, but when I checked the account, I knew then, that it was true. I wanted to tell you how fortunate you are to be able to communicate with my uncle Peter he was such a good person. At his funeral, my mother told me that my uncle Peter paid for all my college tuition, I knew my mom didn’t have the means to afford it.”
“But who’s Anais Neess?” I asked her.
She answered with a smile, “It’s a game of words, Anais Neess, or ‘a nice niece’ I always loved it when he called me that.”
After that day, Peter disappeared from the house. I went crazy talking to him in every room, to no avail. No signs or signals from him. I missed him a lot. Then one day, I received a letter from Nancy, a note with a few words, a check for $5,000.00 under my name and the most important thing, a picture of Peter.
Now I keep that photograph on my desk, next to my computer. In his room.
Edmundo Barraza
Visalia, Ca. 11-29-2010
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