I was recently at a hockey game (Go Railers!) with a friend and in between goals (yeah, it was THAT game- the one where Railers scored 4 goals in the first 8:10 minutes of play AND won the game 5-1. Seriously love that team! But I digress. This ghost story is not about them) we chatted about the launch of Haunted Worcester, what we’re going, where we’re heading, and all that good stuff. As we were settling in after hooting and hollering after goal number 3 (nicely done, Mr. Almeida), our conversation returned to the spookier side of the house. “I told you about the spirit that followed me home from Salem, right?”

“Whaaaat? No!”

“Oh!” She laughed. “I though I told you that.”

“Ohmygod- what happened?! When?!”

I had, of course, heard of entities traveling to other places via people and things, but hadn’t realized that one of my friends experienced a tag-a-long. I looked at her expectantly.

“You know the house up in Salem- the grey one, kind of run-down- right next to the cemetery?” She asked. I knew the one. I’m pretty sure everyone who had visited Salem did. It was the Grimshawe House, the one right next to the Old Burying Point on Charter Street. “Every time I go by that place when I’m in Salem, there’s a part of the building that I’m drawn to.” She continued. “It gives me the creeps, but I can’t help looking there. I just have the feeling that something’s in that part of the house, and it definitely wants my attention.”

“Hockey hockey, hockey… WOOOOOOO!” we hollered, along with the rest of the crowd (following the thread of a conversation during a hockey game is hard, but bear with me- it gets really good).

We settled down again and she picked up her story. “Well, one of the last times I went up, I went by the house as usual, checked out that part of the house as usual, got the heebie-jeebies as usual, and continued on with the day. Nothing really odd happened until I got home. I was on the phone with a friend of mine, who actually is a medium, by the way. She’s more on the religious side and helps people and so on. Anyway, I was chatting with her about my trip to Salem and at the same time I was puttering around on my back porch. We ended the call and I went inside, closing the door behind me. As soon as I did, I knew.”

At this point I expelled the breath I’d been holding- both because of the story and a few plays on the ice. “Criminey. What happened? Did you see something?”

“Oh, yeah. I could feel it first. Something… someone… something… standing at the window staring in at me- trying to get my attention.”

“Gah! What did you do?!”

“Well, I grabbed the phone and called my friend right back. She picked up on the first ring and before I could say anything, she said, ‘It followed you home, didn’t it?’”

“Holy Crap!” I exclaimed. The rest of it got lost as the crowd lost their minds at the Railer’s 4th goal of the game (Well done, Mr. Hudson!). “What did she do?” I yelled over the screaming crowd.

“What? Oh!” She took care of it.”

“What? How? What did she do?!” I asked as we sat back down.

“I don’t know the exact details. She was able to take care of it for me. It was gone.” She shrugged.

The period ended and the clapping and cheering started up again. I didn’t get any other details, though I did get my friend’s permission to write her story up. I’ll be revisiting this again. I definitely want more details, don't you?