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Night Spies

We are at the Golden Apple.

by and

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This is a ghost story I'll be telling my customers over Halloween. About eight years ago I was living on the northwest side in my first apartment. I had a friend from the neighborhood over and he said, "Do you know about the guy that was killed here?" I said no, and he said all the kids used to party in my apartment and one night this guy got caught up in the confusion, got hurt and died. I'd been hearing footsteps and finding things moved around, so it made sense. Then the ghost started to appear late at night when I was home alone. He would just stand there and bleed from cuts on his torso. It didn't scare me; I felt almost bad. I just got the sense that he was sad. He would move things when I wasn't looking--almost like he was trying to get my attention. There were times when he would make such a racket that I would tell him, "Stop. Enough. I'm going to bed now." I was working like three jobs at the time. My sister stayed with me, and she swears she saw him when I wasn't home. He scared the bejesus out of her. I never tried to do anything about it--I don't want to mess with that other realm. I was there for three years and he was there the whole time. As far as I know, he's still there.

--Gabrielle George, waitress

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