A Ghost Story
In 1998 we moved to Christiansted, St. Croix, starting what would be a decade of island living and the start of many close friendships.
Our first apartment was in an old building in a historic property, next to the Pink Fancy Hotel. Thanks to Thia (and George!) Tyler and for giving us this introduction to the island.
We rented a one bedroom apartment in a building in the back, which we found out was the original slave quarters.
The property is an amazing place, and the main buildings have been lovingly restored and furnished to museum quality (you can see more on Google, where I found these pictures). It was also known to be haunted, with a lady in white being seen by multiple guests. I never saw her.
But, the only ghosts I've ever seen and felt in my entire life were here on this property.
On multiple occasions I woke in the night and saw, under the haze of half sleep, a West Indian man standing in the doorway staring into the room. Our bed was positioned on the opposite wall, so his attention was not on us. I like to think he was looking over his family, making sure they were safe. I never felt threatened or even noticed.
My second "sighting" occurred after we had moved back to the states and had returned to visit St. Croix. We stayed in the building adjacent to where we had previously lived. I happened to take a nap one afternoon, and felt, without any doubt, a woman slam both of her hands down hard on the bed, on either side of my legs. Anger permeated the room, but when I opened my eyes, no one was there. I think it was probably the lady in white, but some things will for ever remain a mystery and a secret. And so, for the most part, was my ghost story, until I decided to tell you today.
Why tell? I'm not sure. After all, I'm a data scientist. While I write fiction, I live fact. But as you get older, you become less fearful of what people say. Or think. Mostly, after trying to learn all I can every day, the most important thing I've learned is that there is SO much we humans don't know. And I'm okay with that. In fact, the thought makes me downright delirious.
So, what's your story?