The Handyman - 0003

Intro Good evening, I'm Ben, and this is "Do You Wanna Hear A Ghost Story?" where, each Wednesday, you and I will gather around this virtual campfire to share our scariest experiences. You see, these stories come from people just like you - people who simply want to share their personal encounters with anything that goes bump in the night. Whether you’re a seasoned camper or new to the unexplained, you're in for a haunting time. So gather ‘round and prepare as we get ready to dive into the unknown. And remember, if you have a story, I’d love to share it. You can find the submission email in the episode description, and while you’re there, be sure to click the links to follow the show on social media. Story Background This story was sent in by Chris G. and it details an experience in the year after his wife passed. Now, without further ado, do you wanna hear a ghost story? Story I was never spiritual or believed in anything supernatural until my wife died. It was then that my life became intertwined with the spirit realm. Here’s the story from the first year of my life after my wife, Janice, passed, as I moved our family to give us all a fresh start. Janice and I first met in high school as troubled scholarship kids at a prominent Seattle private school. We found solace in each other and became inseparable. After high school, Janice and I discovered she was pregnant. Terrified but determined, we decided to face the future together. We married and had twin girls, Vicky and Heather. Life was good until, eight years later, Janice suddenly passed away from a stroke. Grieving but determined to honor Janice’s wishes, I moved our family to Conrad, Montana, to start anew. Janice wanted our family to move to Montana for more space. The first few weeks in Conrad were an adjustment, to say the least. At the time, there were about 1500 people living in town, and having moved in from Seattle, we stuck out like sore thumbs. But the girls helped a lot; they had their mother’s charm and could easily disarm people. We met a few of our neighbors in the building over what was left of the summer, and my boss/landlady, Mrs. Johnson, helped me figure out how to get Heather and Vicky registered for school. As we settled into Tamarack Apartments, things were quiet… at first. However, I started hearing whispers in the hallways, feeling random cold spots, and seeing fleeting shadows out of the corner of my eyes as I did the odd job here and there as directed by Mrs. Johnson. Then Heather and Vicky complained about their toys moving on their own and hearing someone whispering their names at night. I tried to comfort them, but I grew anxious too. The first day of school came, and I had the day off. I walked the girls across the street and dropped them off. When I returned to the apartment, it was so very quiet, and I realized that this was the first time I had ever really been alone since Janice passed. Well, at least at home. I began looking around the apartment wondering what it would look like if Janice were still here. She was the one to decorate, not me. I became acutely aware of how bland and cold the apartment really was, so I decided to change that. I went to my boss and asked her if I could have a look around some of the things previous tenants had left to see if there was anything I could put in my apartment to make it a little more “homey” than it currently was. She kept all that stuff in a small closet down in the basement near the laundry room. I had become very familiar with that room over the last few weeks because the washing machine for the apartment never wanted to work, and well, it was literally my job now to make sure it did. The stairwell into the basement was not very well lit, a single bulb attached to a string hung from the ceiling at the top of the stairs at the landing on the first floor. There was a light switch at the bottom of the stairs to turn on the lights in the hall once you got down there. It was on my to-do list to add more lighting and add a second light switch you could operate from the top of the steps, but with getting the girls and myself situated, I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I pulled the string to turn on the light at the top of the steps and began to descend into the basement, when [sound of the light string] the light had gotten turned off on me. I thought maybe someone was walking by and just pulled it, turning it off without seeing me. So I returned back to the top of the steps and peeked my head out into the hall to see no one around. I thought that was kind of odd but did not think much of it. I turned the light back on and checked the bulb to see if it was close to burning out, but it looked just fine. So I headed back down to the closet to look for some decorations for my apartment. The “store,” as my landlady called it, was pretty disappointing, but I found a few cliché “home is where the heart is” type of signs to put up. While I didn’t find much to take, it was enough that I needed to use both arms to carry everything back up the steps. When I got to the top of the stairs and bent down to put everything down [sound of the light string] the light turned off behind me. I stood there dumbfounded and pulled the string a couple of times, turning the light off and on as I just looked down into the dark abyss that was the basement. While being creeped out, at this point in my life, I didn’t believe in anything “paranormal,” so I figured that I just needed to get to fixing the lighting in this stairwell sooner. I bent over to pick up my things when [BANG BANG BANG BANG] heavy footsteps descended the steps next to me. I jumped, dropping and breaking one of the signs. My boss must have been coming to check on me because I heard some laughter from down the hallway. When I turned, she was standing there, smiling. "Did you finally meet the boogeyman?" she asked with a chuckle. I scoffed at first and said, "I think maybe I am just a little bit tired." She shook her head, still smiling. "No, no, really, there’s definitely something not very nice down there. Surprised you haven't met it sooner." She proceeded to talk about how this building is sort of a local legend. "Really?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. "Oh yes," she said, leaning against the wall. "Tamarack Apartments wasn’t always a residential building. It used to be a hospital, back in the early 1900s." "A hospital?" I raised an eyebrow. "Yes," she nodded. "It was a place for treating tuberculosis patients. Back then, tuberculosis was rampant, and there weren’t many effective treatments. Patients were isolated here, away from the rest of the town, to try and contain the spread of the disease." She paused, her gaze distant as she recalled the stories. "They tried everything – fresh air treatments, heliotherapy, you name it. But not everyone survived. In fact, most didn't. And it’s said that some of those who died here never left." I felt a chill run down my spine. "I must have missed that in the advertisement?" I said half-jokingly. Mrs. Johnson nodded slowly. "There are two spirits in particular that people talk about the most. One is believed to be named Eliza. She was a young nurse, dedicated to her patients, always the last one to leave at night. They say she was kind and compassionate, always going the extra mile to make the patients comfortable. But she fell ill herself. Tuberculosis took her, just like so many others." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Legend has it that Eliza’s spirit stayed behind because she couldn’t bear to leave her patients. People say she roams the halls at night, checking on the residents just like she used to check on her patients. She’s usually harmless, but there are times when her presence feels... unsettling. But that being said, the one in the basement is... well, we’ve had a few incidents - it’s best to be alert down there.” I sort of just gulped when... Mrs. Johnson smiled, but it was a sad smile. "I’ve lived here for decades, and I’ve seen a lot. The spirits here, for the most part, aren’t malicious. They’re just... lingering, tied to this place for whatever reason. As long as you respect the building, there’s nothing to fear." My girls and I stayed at the Tamarack for many years, and experienced other odd occurrences. Right before they started high school, we moved into a house, but I kept my job at the Tamarack until retiring some years ago. While my incident on the stairs was the most overt paranormal experience I ever had, I have become very spiritual since. If you'll have me, I have many more stories to share. -Chris