I immediately went into “hunting mode”. I became very still, my breathing was slow and steady. Using my peripheral vision I was scanning the room, looking for any type of motion to track. I caught a glimpse of motion from the corner of the room. I visually tracked it; the movement was slow and steady, just passing near my feet at the end of the couch. I anticipated it to move between me and a very small window where I could get a better view of it. It never did approach that area. In a second it was just gone, dissipated.

 

I was very still on that couch for at least ten minutes listening and waiting for any kind of movement. I finally decided that it was gone. I turned on a small dim light to take a look around the house a little. I started to become aware of normal household sounds of the night. For a moment I listened to the snoring of people sleeping and the kitchen appliances running. Upon entering the living room, I noticed the sounds of the country at night. I could hear the sounds of the lake water lapping against the seawall; I could hear the crickets chirping.  I found nothing out of place or missing.
 
All entrances and exits were locked. I went into the bedroom where I was staying. Tucked safely in bed I began to ponder my initial reaction. I had taken college courses on psychology and human behavior. I know that the most basic human reaction to immediate danger is “fight” or “flight”. What happened while I was sleeping? What triggered me to go into fight mode? My rationalized thoughts drifted to the physics of the void itself. Through training and education, I understand the physics of color and light. Black is the absence of light, so what made it blacker than the room? Why wasn’t there any sound in that room, not even the chirping of a country cricket? As I pondered and tried to rationalize my experience, I drifted off to sleep.

 

Later that week, my family received word that my grandmother passed away. Most of the family was attending the funeral half way across the nation. My brother and I decided not to attend the funeral due to work. He did decide to come visit me during that weekend. During his visit I brought up the subject of his ghost stories that he told me when I was young. He just gave me that knowing look and asked me if I saw the original owner of the house yet. Surprised by this question I stammered that I didn’t think so.

When my parents bought the house in the country, we knew that there was only one previous owner. He only lived there for about nine months before he passed away from cancer. My brother never mentioned seeing a ghost in my parent’s house before. I was amazed. I told him about my experience. His eyes widened and said that was different than anything he ever experienced.