In the summer of 2010, my partner and I found ourselves in a financial pickle. We decided to rent a apartment unit connected to the home of a married couple we knew. The wife shared my interest in fantasy, science fiction and also occult. I began to notice that the doorway to the basement room which extended from our residence would seem to sheen over like a mirage or oil slick. It was very faint but I could make out the general size and shape. I found it odd that around the time at night or alone I would notice this I would have a metalic taste in my mouth and a odd sensation on my left side as if I had been run through with a skewer.
I asked my friends about their home. The husband claimed his family were connected to this area for some generations even though now it was a suburban development. The wife said she knew there was a spirit in the house who was watchful and would often show up lingering in doorways. In her mind he was simply curious. The explanation seemed fine at the time after all a positive or neutral house spirit is often a good thing. I decided to acknowledge its presence but ignore it for the most part.
For a select week after this I had trouble sleeping. I had also felt the area of the home I was in was unusually charged. Nontheless I woke one night to glimpse a figure standing over my husband as he lay on his side of the bed. As soon as I blinked it was gone. Only a night or so after that I was sleeping with my head at the foot of the bed. I was jarred awake with a slap across my calf. I was too angry to open my eyes. I knew it wasn't my partners hand because the wrist had extened from the outside of the bed as if some one was standing over me. I waited just second before swinging out in a wide kick hoping to catch a prankster. My foot flew only through air.
In the morning I felt myself drawn to the other side of that filmy basement doorway. I had ventured there before driven to be nosy my partner had said. This time I found what I was being directed to find. Up in the rafters of the ceiling was a potruding handle. What I pulled out was a sword saber. It was old and rusted with blood. I stared at it for a moment baffled by it being in the rafters. I put it back and questioned the home owners. It was a relic handed down through the husbands family from the civil war and he kept it for its value. It was quite obvious to me that the spirit was attached to that object and I believe it was his blood upon the sword. The owner however refused to bless it or clean it. To him the fact it had blood simply added to its value even if that meant it came with a passenger. The homeowner moved it to another location fearing theft because I had found it despite his hiding it separate from their usual storage. I assured him I cared more about its history than a profit and would never have seen it if not for the ghost wanting me to expose his tale. The blade gave me one last parting gift, a cut when I had found it. I'm not sure of the signifigance of that but it kept me asking questions.
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