The Man In The Brown Suit

In the brief time that I've been a transit operator, I've seen many different locations all around town.  Places that I, otherwise, would never have seen if I were doing anything else.  I've driven down new streets and seen many new things.  In my travels I've spotted new restaurants and eateries that I've since tried. Some good, some not so much.  I've seen parks and roadways and all sorts of places that would otherwise go unnoticed.  Especially for someone, like myself, who rarely ventures out if I don't otherwise need to.

In addition to all the new scenery, I've also revisited old memories of past haunts.  One route takes me down Ruth Street, past a location where me and friends would get drunk at, then stumble home as we lived close-by.  The route I'm currently doing in my afternoons, takes me past a house where I lived...  HOLY SHIT!!  Over twenty years ago, now.  I remember I moved out the spring following 9/11.  (*Holy crap...  Sorry.  This realization just freaked me out a little.) 😲

I lived in the basement suite of 70 Laurentian Drive.  It was a nice little place.  A one bedroom, with a private entrance.  It had a cool room, under the stairs and a bar in the living room, where I stored movies and shit.  Unfortunately, there was a washer and dryer behind a door in my kitchen, which the upstairs landlord used, so they'd frequently barge into my domicile unannounced and I'd mostly feel awkward.  Just imagine relaxing in your underwear, watching TV, when your landlord comes booming down the stairs.  It was ridiculous, to say the least.

I had moved into that place after moving from the afore mentioned house where I'd stumble home from the bar to.  I worked nights and needed the peace and quiet that I wasn't getting from where I was.  For the most part, everything worked well.  Come home from work and the landlord and his wife would be gone already.  I'd wind down a little bit watching TV, then I'd retire to my dark bedroom for a few hours of shut eye. 

One day, I'd come home from work, the last night before a couple days off.  As per the usual, I'd camp out in the arm chair, staring at the TV.  About an hour or so in to my programs, I started hearing foot steps upstairs.  None of the cars belonging to the landlord and his wife were parked in the driveway, so they must have company staying upstairs, I thought.  All day long, however, these thunderous footsteps would wander from the living room, which was directly above mine, to the kitchen.  Then out of the kitchen and down the hall to the far bedrooms, also located above my similar rooms.  The kitchen was above mine, as was the hallway, bathroom and so on.  The footsteps continued in this pattern all day long.  Heavy steps, that echoed throughout the house.  If I was going to get any sleep, it wasn't going to be that afternoon.

From about nine in the morning until about thirty minutes before the landlord and his spouse would return home,  A couple hours later, Denny, the landlord, came down the stairs to run a load of laundry.  We exchanged pleasantries, then I asked him who the houseguest upstairs was?  Denny cocked his head to the side like the confused mutt that he was, forcing me to explain what I was referencing to.  

"All day," I explained to him, "I've been listening to footsteps that walked heavily from the living room, to the kitchen to the far end of the house and back."  I explained that it'd been occurring all day long and that I wasn't able to get any sleep because of the loud racket.

With a look of clarity on his face, Denny leaned back against the door jam that separated the small kitchen from the living room.  He followed that facial expression with a look of hesitation, then explained that there wasn't any houseguest roaming about upstairs.  He paused for a moment then said, "It was probably the man in the brown suit."

Denny had only recently gotten married to his bride, moving into her existing residence.  (For the life of me, I can't remember her name), had lived in the house for many years, residing there even before meeting her, now, husband, Denny.  He continued to explain how in addition to the odd occurrences that happen from time-to-time, there have been a couple actual sightings.   Most notable was his wife's introduction to the "man in the brown suit". 

Apparently, she'd been awoken from a deep slumber by an unnerving presence.  When she'd opened her eyes, she saw a tall man in a brown suit looming over top of her as she laid in bed.  Frightened for her life, she sprang out of bed and ran to the kitchen to grab a weapon to protect herself, only to discover that she was alone in the house.  Nobody, not a soul...  Wait a second!  Over the years, she'd grown accustom to the presence and never gave it much thought beyond that.

I was taken aback by the response to my query.  It didn't scare me, to be honest, and moving forward from that time, I'd continue to hear odd things, but whatever it was or whoever it was, never ventured down the stairs, so I was never bothered directly.

Eventually, the landlord asked me to move out as they were looking to convert the basement suite into a lounge area for their kids to hang out in.  On the day that I was to move out of the tiny apartment, the ghost upstairs was having a fit.  I don't know why it chose that day in particular, but I had a feeling that it was protesting my leaving.  Not that it was attached to me or had any sort of connection, but I always got the feeling that whatever it was, had a deep dislike of Denny, which as I got to know him over the brief time that I'd lived there, I could understand.  Denny was a real boob.

As I sat, waiting for family to come over and help me move, I sat at the bottom of the stairs and listened as the spirit upstairs slammed ever cupboard door in [their] kitchen.  I don't know how many doors were up there, but rest assured, every last one was being slammed repeatedly.

I've had many encounters with the paranormal over the years.  In recent years, some of it occurs in my very own house.  Many weird and strange things happen here, at home.  Other stuff has happened when I was at work, in a variety of vocations, even as a bus driver, I've had some strange shit happen.  I'm not psychic, but I do believe that I'm sensitive to the presence of weird shit.  No time to expand on that subject, at the moment, but I will delve into that shit at a later time.

For now and for the next two months, I'll continue to drive past the ol' homestead and every time I do, like a person with Tourette's, I look at the house and utter the words, "The man in the brown suit."  I would not be shocked if I were driving past one day and actually saw a man in a brown suit peering out the window. 😄

Strange Happenings

I, in no way, propose myself to be any sort of paranormal expert.  In fact, although it's known by some that I watch a lot of that shit on television and the internet, it pretty much baffles the shit outta me, when it's not causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.  That withstanding, I have had some questionable experiences in my short but distinguished life.

The first experience occurred many years ago, following the my sister's marriage to her first husband.  They'd just purchased a new home in a newer part of town and were going to have some painting done to it.  This coincided with their plans to leave on their honeymoon, so they had me house sit for them to allow for the painter to come and go, as well as watch their cat, Norman.

The first night of my week long stay, I chose to sleep in the master bedroom, upstairs rather than the uncomfortable single bed in the guest room.  Just as Norman (the cat) and I laid our heads down, we were startled by a series of claps sounding from the level below.  The house was set up in such a way that there was only the master bedroom and en-suite upstairs, along with a small sitting room where the television set was, which overlooked the front room and dining room below.  The cat and I, literally looked at one another, surprised and bewildered at the noise we were hearing and both leaped out of bed to investigate what was the matter.  The clapping continued as I flicked on all the light switches, but ceased once I made it to the railing to look over.  I searched out the house, while Norman watched from above, but nothing and no one was there.  I flicked off the lights and returned to bed, opting then to pull the sheets over my head.

The next day, I was kicked by an unseen force, while speaking to the painter.  It wasn't hard or malicious, but firm enough to let me know that something was there.  That freaked me out, again, especially since it was in the middle of the day.  Up to that point, I believed that supernatural shit only occurred during the night.  The worse of it, though, occurred at the end of the week.

Upon the return home of my sister and (then) brother-in-law, I immediately reported the weird shit that occurred in their absence.  They, of course, laughed and mocked me.  That night, while sleeping in the uncomfortable guest quarters, I met with the most violent of the attacks.  I was sleeping with my face to the wall, when I was awoken violently with the mattress flipping upwards and pinning me against the wall for a few seconds.  I woke up and thought for sure that it was my brother-in-law, a notorious prankster, pulling a joke on me.  As soon as the mattress fell back into place, I quickly flipped over to discover an empty, dimly lit room with the door still closed, like I'd left it earlier.  Given the layout of the room, there's no f*cking way that he, my idiot brother-in-law, could've successfully maneuvered out of the room and quietly shut the door.

Nothing ever happened to me after that, and I'd spent a lot of time in that house in the following years.  However, when I moved to the basement suite of a house on Laurentian Drive, that was another story.

I worked nights and slept throughout the day, but several times a day, I'd be awoken by the heavy walking of someone upstairs.  The living room window looked out the front into the driveway, so I could always see when someone was home upstairs.  More times than not, there was no one, yet the walking would continue. It was always the same, too.  From their living room, directly above mine, down the hall, back into the kitchen, then returning to the living room.  This went on for hours and hours.  Finally one day, I asked my idiot landlord who the person was upstairs doing all the walking.  He informed me that no one was staying with them, but added, "Maybe it's the man in the brown suit."  This information put me off some, especially when he elaborated on the explanation.  Apparently his fiancee had purchased the house a couple of years previous to my moving in and one night was startled when she awoke to a tall older man in a brown suit, looking down on her as she slept.

The entity in the brown suit never ventured into the basement, where I was, thank Christ, but continued to walk that same course, intermittently over the rest of my stay on the premises.  That is, until my landlords asked me to vacate the dwelling.  Their increasing family dictated that they needed extra room and so it was logical that I vacate in order for them to do so.  I don't know if it was coincidental, but they day I was all packed up and ready to leave, the cupboard doors in the kitchen upstairs, simultaneously began to slam repeatedly for a few hours, I'm guessing in protest of my being asked to leave.  Denny, my landlord was not only an idiot, but a complete douche bag to boot, so instead of being pleasant on asking me to depart, he was abrupt and rude about it.  I can only imagine he was the same in his life upstairs too.

Again I was paranormal-free, until I moved into the house I bought in 2008.  It's located in a newer part of town, too, so naturally I never thought of anything being out of the ordinary.  Not until I began seeing things out of the corner of my eye.  I live in a 4-level split, which means I can see into the kitchen from the living room downstairs.  Sometimes, when I'd be watching TV, I'd notice a small furry-like creature cross my peripheral.  I didn't own a cat, yet, so I always found this to be odd.  I didn't know (not until recently) that animals can sometimes inhabit locations after their death.  I wondered if there was a black long-haired cat that once lived in my home.  This would certainly explain some of the strange behavior from my cat when I did finally get one.  To this day, he gets freaked out and will come running to my side.  Shit, he just did it now!

Lately, though, there's been some other strange shit occurring.  Things that a spectral kitty, no matter how supernatural it may be, could ever achieve.  I found my wallet in my fridge once.  At Christmas, a gift for my nephew went missing.  It's quite sizable, so I was quite dumbfounded, especially when I found it recently, down in my basement, tucked tightly behind some shelving.  I nearly threw my back out extracting it from it's resting place, so there's no way I could've absent mindedly stuck it back there.  But the majorly f*cked up occurrence, happened last night, early this morning.

With my Blackberry in hand, I placed it on the counter, as I was returning a jug of milk to my refrigerator.  When I turned back, I literally saw my phone lift up about six inches off the counter, move out and drop to the floor, where it proceeded to bounce and in some awkward JFK-magic bullet fashion, illogically bounced about four feet into my cat's water dish.

WTF?!?!?

I'm not convinced that my house is haunted by anything.  At least I'm in denial of any such possibility, but how the f*ck am I supposed to wrap my head around that stupid kind o' shit?!?  Please, someone explain this to me.  How??

My cat is still running around in a panic, this morning.  Poor little bugger.  I'm going to go keep him company and protect him from whatever the f*ck...