When my daughter and her family
moved to Pensacola, Fla. the looked for something to rent.
They came across this very nice house, two bedrooms, one bath, sun room
and big fenced in back yard and a year lease to sign. The
price was right so they rented it. The real estate agency
told them to live there for a while and if they still wanted it they
could sign the lease. So they did and the agency couldn't
believe it when they came in to sign the lease. She made friends with
the neighbor lady, got a job at a service station at the end of the
street and signed up for college. A couple months
or so later she went to bed at a decent hour
because she had finals at school the next morning. During the
night she heard the boys get up and vomit terribly in the bathroom, and
go back to bed. Just what she needed, she thought.
She lay there for a while and decided she had better get up
and check on them then clean up the mess, if there was any.
To her surprise the boys were sound asleep and no mess in the
bathroom. So,she went back to bed. After school the
next day, she told the neighbor about what happened and the neighbor
said, "Didn't anyone tell you why you got the house so
cheap?" Then she proceed to tell my daughter about the house
she lived in.
The house was built by a man and his wife who were
missionaries. When they retired they returned back
to the house. The wife became ill with cancer and was up and
down all night vomiting in the bathroom. She slept in the
boys bedroom, so as not to wake her husband, who slept in the master
bedroom. The wife became very ill and died there. A
few years later the husband died also.
I visited them the next year, not knowing about the
missionaries. I was walking down the hall toward the living
room and as I walked by the kitchen on my right I saw an older, short
woman, wearing a print dress just above her ankles. She was
standing where the kitchen table stood. I did a double take,
but she was gone. I was not scared or shocked. For
some reason it felt almost normal. I just chuckled and went
on to the living room. There I told my daughter what I had
seen. She smiled and told me it was the ghost of the woman
that died there and then told me the story. She said every
now and then you can see the husband walk down the hallway.
She said they don't mean any harm, they were friendly. About a month
later she was going to work at the service station, when shortly after
arriving the door opened and closed. The day manager was
there and it scared her. My daughter said not to worry that
it was just the ghosts that lived in her house checking the
place out. Sure enough, I guess the ghosts were finally
satisfied with the people renting their house because they never were
seen again.
