The drunk man still comes around for a visit. Why shouldn’t he? He built the house I live in and so he is entitled to his visits. I know there is something unfinished about this phantoms existence but it is unknown to me.
About 50 years ago, a drunken father moved his wife and daughter into the house he built for them. He spend many weeks and months at work on this home for his family. But under the influence of alcohol, this man miscalculated measurements and sloppily put this house together. After he moved his family into the home he had constructed, they begin to fight. He and his wife would yell for hours in the presence of their small child and then climb onto the roof to think awhile and drink alone. Sometimes he would pace back and forth with drunken thoughts and anger until her fell asleep. This is the story that was told by his daughter to me, when she stopped by to see who lived in her old home.
I have lived in the same house for 11 years with my husband and three sons. This is the home that the drunk man built. I worked in this small town, socialized and have been raising my children here. What makes this place unique to me is its location, its comfort and its visiting phantom. I admit that he added a certain mystery to my life.
The visitations started several years ago after a really bad storm. On several occasions, afterward, while watching television, I have heard and seen strange things. Many times, I would hear steps from above me, late at night. It was obvious that something was on the roof of my home. It was as if someone was pacing back and forth. I often walked out on my porch to notice both of my dogs staring upwards toward the roof. They would bark loudly and growl a little. Of course, I would frightened to look but I wanted to know all the same. When I stepped out into the yard and looked up, there was nothing there. Some nights, the incident happened two or three times until I would have to put earplugs in my ears and go to bed. Whenever I did this, the television would turn off and on. Pulling the plug, I would finally be able to get some rest. This phantom seems to be persistent and so I would just smile wondering what he wanted.
Many other incidents occurred in conjunction with this visitation including slamming doors, missing things and whispering voices. Both the drunk man’s daughter, whom I met shortly after the incidents and the neighbor across the street have verified the drunk man’s roof tyraid. They verify the fact that he would get so angry that he would fight with his wife, turning off the television as she fought to keep it on. Finally in a vicious rage, he would storm out slamming the door and climb upon the roof. There he would curse and pace back and forth. Finally as he passed out, the bottle would roll off onto the ground. There his daughter would find it the next morning.
Over time, I have learned to live with the drunk man’s ghost. He never leaves and someday, maybe, I will know what he needs to pass on.