Soon after we got married, George and I moved to Yonkers, New York.  The apartment was a large studio with a walk-through kitchen and a wide hallway that led to the bathroom.  The hallway was so big that we turned it into a mini-library and storage area for some of George’s Star Trek models.

Having grown up in Yonkers until I was about eleven years old, I was happy to be back in my old neighborhood.  The building was from the 1920s, although the city itself dates back to the mid-1600s.  There was even an old Jewish cemetery located a few blocks from our apartment building that was usually kept locked.  The earliest gravestones had dates from the 1950s.

One night, about two weeks after we had settled in and unpacked everything, I was walking by the bookshelf when one of George’s toy Star Trek phasers went off by itself.  To say I nearly jumped out of my skin is an understatement.  I ran out of that hallway so fast that I’m sure the ghost must have been in a fit of hysterics.  This happened a few more times, including a couple in front of George.

Our second year there, George and I decided to throw a Halloween party.  A few of our friends came over and we all dressed in costume and played some board games.  We also gave out candy to the trick-or-treaters.  I had told my friends about the events in the house.  I had by this time taken George’s electronic toys and stuffed them in the closet so that I couldn’t hear them if they decided to go off on their own.  Some of my friends were skeptics, some believed me, but we were all in for a surprise later that night.

Everyone was standing around, saying their goodbyes, and getting ready to go home.  I had just finished telling them that I was in the middle of writing a ghost story that was quickly turning into my first novel.  Then inexplicably, our TV turned itself on.  No one was near the remote or standing by the TV.  This was one of those older television sets with a built-in DVD player from the early 2000s.  You had to press the power button firmly to get it to turn on.  Everyone looked at me.

“Told you that we have a ghost.”

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

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