A Ghost Story, of Sorts

I don’t work late very often because we’re firm believers in having a normal life outside of the office — after all, there’re books to read and beers to drink. I also try not to stay too late because our office is inside a 111 year-old building and can get pretty creepy after dark. I grew up reading Goosebumps and spent a good portion of my early twenties ingesting a vast array of hallucinogens, so my mind tends to run wild whenever I’m confronted with a dark corner, let alone a creaky old house.

But every now and then, when I hit a moment of inspiration, I’ll either stay late or head into the office later in the evening to work.

A few weeks ago, I was developing initial can design concepts for a local brewery. I was sketching at home and had an idea that I had to get out and into the computer at that very moment. So into the office I went. At 11pm. Late.

Here’s where the story begins.

I’m in the office, completely alone. I got what I was working on roughed out in the computer and after an hour and a half, was listening to music while printing / cutting / mounting mockup labels on cans. Around this time, I started hearing a group of people talking upstairs. Clear, discernible voices. Not outside on the sidewalk, not coming from my speakers, but ten feet above me on the dark first floor.

My heart pounding, I muted my computer and the voices continued talking for a few seconds before abruptly stopping. “I’m jumpy and this is dumb,” I thought. So I tried to forget about it and continued playing music as I finished my mockups. After a few minutes, the voices started again, only this time louder. I paused the music and again, they continued for several seconds before stopping.

And here’s how tough I am.

You know those late night campfire talks about aliens, religion, ghosts and the great beyond? I’ve always been pretty cavalier toward the unknown. “Man, I don’t believe in that shit, pffsh.”

Well, after that second go-round with the voices up stairs, all I could think about was the ballroom scene in ‘The Shining,’ so I promptly saved my work, put my exact-o blade down, and left. No way was I going to stick around to see what was going on upstairs with Lloyd the Bartender.

I snuck out through the back door, circled the house, came back in the front door, set the alarm and headed home.

Next time I’m struck with a moment of inspiration, I’ll tough it out on my laptop. At home.

Safe and sound.