Friday, November 5, 2010
The House off Greenville
Several years ago I moved into a two story home in Dallas. It was in an old part
of town, near fashionable and trendy Greenville. The house sat close to the famous
"M" streets. I remember when I first drove down the street. My husband and I had
recently divorced. We had lost our house and at the time it felt like a mixed blessing. I was on my own for the first time and with some sense of adventure I began looking for a house to rent. I had taken an unexpected turn off Greenville. The houses were beautiful and old. For a moment I thought I was lost. But then I recognized the area as one of the most coveted in Dallas. As if on cue,a yellow brick house on the corner seemed to call me. I got out of my car. Walking up the cracked sidewalk the branches hovering over me seemed to welcome me. To my surprise the front door was open. "Hello" I called as I invited myself in. Immediately I noticed the beautiful wooden floors. A spanish arch divided the living room from the dining room. Suddenly a noise from one of the bedrooms got my attention. I realized I wasn't alone. "Hello?" I approached with trepidation. To my relief it was a man in work clothes painting the back bedroom. I apologized profusely. I told him I noticed a sign in the front yard and had let myself in. The painter laughed and said the owner was renting the house. He had just placed the sign outside that very same day. What luck!
In a short time, I moved to this beautiful old house rearranged the furniture and
my life. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share the house just yet. I needed to sort things out and I wasn't ready for a roommate. It was the first time I would live alone. I don't remember when it was exactly that I noticed the house was......... a little strange. Maybe it was the trees outside that made dancing shadows at night in my bedroom or perhaps it was the hallway. The walls were painted a dark blue almost black color. Everytime I walked in the hallway toward one of the bedrooms the air seemed unusually heavy in this part of the house. When ever I felt that uneasy feeling, I chalked it up to me not being use to my new surroundings.
One late afternoon, after reading a book, I decided to take a nap. As I walked in the hallway like I did so many times, I felt a tug on my shirt. I thought my shirt had gotten
stuck on something and I turned around. Feeling kind of sleepy, I didn't pay attention to it. In no time, I fell asleep. I think it was the music that first got my attention. It was some kind of instrumental piece. It sounded like something from the 60's. A little groggy, I lifted my head momentarily from the pillow. I realized the music seemed to be coming from the other room. '"No, Selinda" I told myself, it must be someone outside with a radio. In a half wake state, I sat up. The music stopped. I decided to give in to my slumber and my head hit the pillow. As soon as my head rested, the music started again.
I lifted my head and the music stopped. Then I could make out voices. It sounded like a roomful of guests, a party. Then I realized the voices were coming from the other side of the hallway from my living room. The party was in my house. I just sat there paralyzed not knowing what to do. I eventually mustured the courage to get up and investigate. As I approached the living room the music and the voices faded misteriously. There was no one there. Or was there? Several incidents occured at that house off Greenville and gradually over the two years that I lived there I would piece together this ghost story.
of town, near fashionable and trendy Greenville. The house sat close to the famous
"M" streets. I remember when I first drove down the street. My husband and I had
recently divorced. We had lost our house and at the time it felt like a mixed blessing. I was on my own for the first time and with some sense of adventure I began looking for a house to rent. I had taken an unexpected turn off Greenville. The houses were beautiful and old. For a moment I thought I was lost. But then I recognized the area as one of the most coveted in Dallas. As if on cue,a yellow brick house on the corner seemed to call me. I got out of my car. Walking up the cracked sidewalk the branches hovering over me seemed to welcome me. To my surprise the front door was open. "Hello" I called as I invited myself in. Immediately I noticed the beautiful wooden floors. A spanish arch divided the living room from the dining room. Suddenly a noise from one of the bedrooms got my attention. I realized I wasn't alone. "Hello?" I approached with trepidation. To my relief it was a man in work clothes painting the back bedroom. I apologized profusely. I told him I noticed a sign in the front yard and had let myself in. The painter laughed and said the owner was renting the house. He had just placed the sign outside that very same day. What luck!
In a short time, I moved to this beautiful old house rearranged the furniture and
my life. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share the house just yet. I needed to sort things out and I wasn't ready for a roommate. It was the first time I would live alone. I don't remember when it was exactly that I noticed the house was......... a little strange. Maybe it was the trees outside that made dancing shadows at night in my bedroom or perhaps it was the hallway. The walls were painted a dark blue almost black color. Everytime I walked in the hallway toward one of the bedrooms the air seemed unusually heavy in this part of the house. When ever I felt that uneasy feeling, I chalked it up to me not being use to my new surroundings.
One late afternoon, after reading a book, I decided to take a nap. As I walked in the hallway like I did so many times, I felt a tug on my shirt. I thought my shirt had gotten
stuck on something and I turned around. Feeling kind of sleepy, I didn't pay attention to it. In no time, I fell asleep. I think it was the music that first got my attention. It was some kind of instrumental piece. It sounded like something from the 60's. A little groggy, I lifted my head momentarily from the pillow. I realized the music seemed to be coming from the other room. '"No, Selinda" I told myself, it must be someone outside with a radio. In a half wake state, I sat up. The music stopped. I decided to give in to my slumber and my head hit the pillow. As soon as my head rested, the music started again.
I lifted my head and the music stopped. Then I could make out voices. It sounded like a roomful of guests, a party. Then I realized the voices were coming from the other side of the hallway from my living room. The party was in my house. I just sat there paralyzed not knowing what to do. I eventually mustured the courage to get up and investigate. As I approached the living room the music and the voices faded misteriously. There was no one there. Or was there? Several incidents occured at that house off Greenville and gradually over the two years that I lived there I would piece together this ghost story.
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