The ‘Nice Man’ ghost
Theresa Martin, Vancouver
Back in the ’90s, we rented a home from an older couple in San Jose, Calif.
The day we moved in, the old man, Paul, said that now he could die because he liked us and felt we would take care of the place. Two weeks later, he died.
Over the years, lots of strange things happened.
About the time my grandson was 3 years old, my daughter and husband woke to him jumping on their bed in the middle of the night. This would not have been unusual had their bedroom door not been locked.
When they asked him how he got in, he told them, “The nice man let me in.”
My grandson and the “Nice Man” became good friends. Josh would talk to him rather often.
Imaginary friends are not uncommon among 3-year-olds, but ones that like to play pranks are. My daughter baby-sat a little one who was very attached to his pacifier.
It seemed, however, that our ghost did not approve of pacifiers. The first time one disappeared, my daughter spent hours looking for it.
Knowing we had a ghost, she finally gave in and very politely asked, “If you have it, would you please give it back?” She turned around and there it was on the floor behind her. She had only looked there a couple of dozen times.
The little one’s pacifier disappeared on a rather regular basis and if you asked politely, it was always returned. It wasn’t just pacifiers that disappeared. Many things disappeared, and if you stood in the middle of the living room, and asked very politely, you would get them back. If you didn’t ask nicely, it was lost forever.
