George

The house my parents live in has a ghost. We all know it. We all accept it. Even my parents finally accept it.

George loves to play pranks. He gets a kick out of it. As his pranks are completely harmless, well, we don’t mind.

When I was a kid my parents—okay my dad—had a pool table. It was so cool to be able to head downstairs once homework was done (and at times even when it wasn’t) to practice my game. One evening I was down playing. I had my transistor radio (does that tell you how old I am? LOL) sitting against the back wall while I hit a few.

Mom called down to tell me it was dinnertime. I turned off my radio, laid my stick on the table and I went upstairs. After supper, I went back down. As I walked down the stairs, I heard the radio playing. Now, I KNOW I turned it off. When I reached the bottom of the steps I found, not only was my radio on but it was no longer on the table at the far wall. It was on the floor near the steps.

I hesitated in my steps. I was still getting used to George and I have to admit I was more than a little scared. I grabbed my radio, turned and ran back up the steps and shut the door. It was quite a while before I’d go back down to the basement. The times I had to I ran as fast as I could.

Now when I go over. I usually make sure to say hello and goodbye to George. He seems to like it.