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I contacted the owner of the house to schedule a visit. The following week I arrived at the house shortly after five o’clock. I arranged to stay the night in the guest room which is said to have the most ``activity``.
My car rocked as I drove up the old drive way to the house. After walking up the stairs I raised my right hand to pull on the huge brass door knocker then just before I could touch it the door opened with a creak. An old woman stood on the other side looking at me like she knew me already.
``Mr.Carpenter. Come in.``
``Pleased to meet you. You must be Mrs.Potter.``
I was then escorted down a musty smelling hallway.
``Thank you for allowing me to stay in your lovely house this evening Mrs.Potter.``
``It`s my pleasure. I’m sorry my husband will not be joining us. ``
``That’s fine. I will be up front you. I don`t believe in the supernatural. I believe in what I can see, touch and smell--tangible things ya know.``
``Of course my dear.``
After tea I took my audio recorder out and set it down on the table.
“Do you mind if I record this conversation?”
“No not at all.”
I pushed the record button.
“So you claim this house is haunted?” I queried.
“Yes. I have lived in this house for many years.”
“Can you tell me more? What have you seen?”
“I see them often.” she said while sipping her tea.
“I regularly have what I like to call intruders in my house. They come in to my house like they own it. Sometimes I see them; but they don’t see me. Or maybe they are just ignoring me.”
“When was the last time you seen these...um...intruders?”
Mrs.Potter took another sip of her tea then looked at me with her deep blue eyes.
“Okay, so...where in the house?”
“Here in this room.”
“I was told the guest room had the most activity. Has this changed?”
“No that room seems to be the busiest.”
“Are you afraid to be by yourself in this house?”
“No, I am rarely alone anyway.”
“Can we get started?”
“Alright dear I will show you to your room. Just follow me up these stairs.”
I followed her slowly up the stairs until she pointed to a bedroom.
“This is the guest room. I made it up for you so you should be comfortable. Good night.”
The old woman walked back down the stairs and disappeared in to the kitchen. Then I stepped into the guest room and closed the door behind me. When I awoke I looked around the house for Mrs.Potter; but could not find her so I left. As I was driving my cell phone started to ring.
“Hey Jim it’s Bob at the office.”
“Okay what is it?”
“Mr.Potter called last night saying he could not meet you at the house because he was stranded at the airport--he was very apologetic.”
“That’s impossible. I was there last night. Mrs.Potter was there. We had dinner and I stayed in the guest room!”
“What the hell are you talking about Jim? Mrs.Potter died a few years ago.”
“That’s impossible! She was there!”
I pulled to the side of the road.