My house was built in 1904.
It was a single family house, built on a concrete block foundation with a wooden frame.
For around 12 years, I lived there.
Of all the odd things that my siblings and I have seen or heard in this home, my favorite is this one, it happened to my brother.
My brother and his best friends formed a garage band about ten years ago, mainly playing "Spanish Rock," alternative music but in Spanish.
Only on Sunday afternoons could his friends get together.
They'd practice into the early evening, and by 8 pm they'd generally call it quits.
This was the moment I normally woke up and went to bed because I was working a shift in the cemetery.
This occurred in late fall, so the days were getting shorter, and a long session had just ended when the decision to go to someone else's house came about.
My brother handed his boyfriend his car keys so that they could load the equipment.
The tricky part was that they needed to walk all the way to the back of the basement, up the backstairs, through the kitchen doorway, down the hall into the living room and out into the front porch. Everybody had filed out of the basement.
They were all sitting outside in my brother's truck, waiting for him.
When he realized that he had left his pancakes in a go-to container sitting on a speaker in the basement, my brother was walking up the back steps.
The decision to go back was made by him.
Now the basement is not clean, partitions were made with complete sight lines, and the boiler and main heating unit are right smack in the centre.
So after my brother steps back, when he sees it from the corner of his eye, he's about to grab his food bag.
It is a dark figure, this feeling of fear and uneasiness washed over my brother, right in his peripheral vision.
If you are in the presence of a spirit or ghost and you sense a bad vibe, we have been taught to say fast prayers or to cuss at it.
He essentially just said, "Hey screw you, I don't have time for this shit."
My brother began to walk to the back of the basement and up the stairs briskly, shutting the doors and turning the lights off as he walked out.
Luckily, the door was open and the street lamp was filling the living room with its amber light.
The last light switch was on the other side of the front door.
My brother said that he felt something behind his back, but he didn't turn around at any point.
As he flicked the last switch the living room went dark, as did the rest of the house.
He closed the door behind him as he walked out, still holding his food container in one hand, jogging down the few porch steps.
He was walking to the front gate... Located far from the main street, our house effectively has a wide front yard but no rear garage.
He kind of grinned and thought things over in his mind as he closed the distance between himself and his friend-laden vehicle, angry at himself for speaking out when there was no excuse.
He climbed into the drivers side of the truck, putting on his seat belt and getting ready to pull out of the parking spot directly in front of the house.
When one of his friends asked, “ Hey wait what about your brother, isn’t he coming with us?”
My brother answered, “What do you mean? He went to work early tonight, he is already gone, do you see his car anywhere?”
The next question they asked “So then who was walking behind you when you were leaving the house? “