THIS GHOST STORY

from 2008:

I was down in the basement doing laundry tonight. As I was loading a washing machine, a young friendly woman named Darlene (who lives on the second floor) came down. As she moved her clothes into a dryer, she hummed a soft tune. She told me she just moved in and we started talking. I have lived here for decades, and she asked me about the building. I told her many stories and she seemed fascinated about the history of the place. I said that some residents believe the building is haunted. She laughed and groaned: "Shuttt uppppppp."

I told her that in 1969, a man who lived next door to me committed suicide. He played weird music every night and on one stormy night I heard chilling screams mixed with strong howling winds. The next day his body was found in the back of the building in a pile of wet snow. He had jumped out of the window. Since then, many residents who have lived in that apartment say they sometimes see a man covered in snow behind their shoulder when they are looking into the bathroom mirror.

In the 70s on Sunday mornings, a group of fun guys used to dance in the back courtyard to the soundtracks of different Broadway shows. Sometimes they presented entire scenes while dressed in elaborate costumes. "West Side Story" was their favorite. Every so often we can hear theater music back there, and nobody knows from where that music is coming.

Darlene and I continued to have a conversation and soon it was time for her to go back upstairs. I asked Darlene to wait a minute before she left and then my expression became serene and my eyes must have appeared unfocused and glazed, my pupils fixed and dilated. I told Darlene that the next day when she tells people that the night before she spoke in the laundry room with a woman named Marjorie who lives in apartment 8S... they are going to be shocked and tell her that Marjorie died ten years ago. She screamed and goosebumps appeared on her skin. She backed away and declared: "Now THAT is not funny!" Fear. Perhaps she was afraid she had moved into the Cortez Hotel.

Strangely, I never saw her again. But I look out of my window to the street below and sometimes I see her down there looking up... and wondering.