Eckhard Smith, Camas
One morning my wife greeted me at the breakfast table and asked me if I had used the washing machine the night before. I managed a puzzled no, “Why are you asking me?”
Earlier in the morning, she asked my two teenage boys the same question. Both of them replied that neither had been anywhere near the utility room, much less near the two devilish machines, and if something is broken it wasn’t their fault.
I thought the case was solved, when Keiko, our neighbor, came in from the utility room. We had converted the two-car garage into a barber shop, a storage room and a bathroom, which provided a short cut to the main house.
But she immediately asked my wife, Hatsue, if she believed in ghosts.
My wife answered with a resounding yes. There was no doubt in her mind that ghosts existed.
Keiko proceeded to tell Hatsue that she had an eerie feeling, as if someone was watching her. She said the whole thing sent icy chills down her spine.
Hatsue then told Keiko what went on the prior evening.
Hatsue had heard some noise coming from the utility room area. It seemed as if someone was trying to wash clothes. But from the clicking and water rushing through pipes and hoses, the person didn’t seem very familiar with those high-tech machines.
That’s when the morning interrogation became clear to me.
This was a brand new house, and it did not have any prior resident with an axe to grind.