The Mysterious, Very Moist Ghost and the Diabetic Schnoodle
A real-life ghost story happened right across my street, and I soaked up every minute of it.
I’ve always loved anything scary — movies, books, haunted houses, you name it. I grew up reading Stephen King and watching Tim Curry as Pennywise over and over and over. So, I guess it’s no surprise I’m now an aspiring horror author.
As I was preparing to launch the first season of my podcast, Horror Humor Hunger (you can find me on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and Google Podcasts), I was revisiting an old short story of mine called The Leak. This story, about a pariah named Andrew Ferenc who becomes trapped in a subway during a water barrier test and comes face to face with the ghosts of his past, is the first story I tackle in my podcast.
Meanwhile, right across the street, my neighbor (who also happens to be my mom), was renovating her house. Everything was going well — until the puddles started appearing.
There’s got to be a logical explanation
Right around the time construction started to enclose the formerly screened-in porch, large, watery puddles started materializing all around my mom’s house. The puddles were all on the first floor, and they were never in the same place twice. They also cropped up fast — my mom would leave a room, come back two minutes later, and find a giant puddle. The liquid was clear and had no discernible smell.
Naturally, my mom’s first thought was, Oh, it’s probably just water the construction workers forgot to mop up. However, when it kept happening, she started to think, Oh no, we’ve got a leak.
She called in her contractor, who did everything from pulling up boards in the kitchen to bringing in a water meter. He went under the house on multiple occasions. All of his investigations yielded the same answer: the water isn’t coming from the floor, and it’s not coming from the ceiling. There is no leak.