I didn't mind living in a house with such a history. The 1880's were ancient history, as far as I was concerned. And as I mentioned earlier, I didn't believe in ghosts and this was San Jose we're talking about. Nothing happens in San Jose. Most of the house had been renovated, anyway. The only "authentic" part of the house was the door. Although the lock was new, the wooden door was made from several planks side by side, tight against one another. The peephole was a tiny iron door on squeaky hinges with a lever to keep it shut.

But the floors have wall-to-wall carpeting, and the walls are now your typical plaster-and-I-don't-know-what-else walls. They're decorated with many of my engravings, mostly of patterns. That's my thing. Patterns. I carve patterns into wooden boards and, depending how much I drink, I get a good dizzy head staring at them.

I remember my first spooky encounter was about a year ago. I had just been dumped by Erica, a woman who, after three weeks of knowing her, convinced me that we would be committed to each other for eternity. I stayed up drinking a lot and watched some John Wayne film. I was only slightly surprised when there was suddenly a tall man standing next to me. I remember being glad that he appeared during the commercials. He had just a balding wreath of grey hair around his long face. He wore tan slacks and the front of his matching vest was decorated with a chain leading to a pocket watch he held in his hand. Showed me the face of the pocket watch. It read 4:25 a.m. I looked at my clock. Yep, I thought. It's 4:25. Then he pointed to the year long calendar on my wall. Specifically pointing to the following year, same day.

Did I mention I was drunk? I spent the next few seconds imagining how classy John Wayne would look wearing the same tan outfit. There was a knock on the door. I stumbled over to it, unlatched the peep hole and opened it. A hunter's knife jutted at me through the tiny window. You know, there is quite possibly nothing more sobering than having a knife thrust at you. Any time of day. I managed to get out of harm's way and stepping back, I saw that the tall man was gone and so was the knife. By morning, I swore against drinking, and kept that promise for a solid three weeks.