My Name is Sophia

My name is Sophie Foster. I live in a haunted house, although I didn’t know that when I moved in. I was just looking for an apartment so I wouldn’t end up homeless.

It all started when I found out I was being separated from my job of over 20 years. I was the assistant to the founder of a large bakery. I thought my job was secure, until I found out my boss was retiring, and the company was downsizing; I was one of the casualties.

But that was okay, I figured I’d be able to get another job, even though I was pushing towards retirement age. Through my job I’d saved a lot; a quarter of my salary went into my 401k. I knew I could get by on my severance pay until it ran out and after that, my pension, my 401k, and Social Security would kick in. It was just a matter of waiting until I became eligible for them.

But to make sure, I decided to sell the house I was living in. Even though it was mortgage-free because I’d inherited it, it still cost way more than I’d be able to afford. So, I looked for a small apartment closer to the city, one on a major subway line.

I’d be fine, unless something catastrophic happened.

Well, the house sold quicker than I thought it would and I still didn’t have a place to live. I’d looked and looked but couldn’t find anything that would work. Either it was too far away from the subway or the neighborhood was not very safe. I was starting to panic.

Then one of my neighbors mentioned that he had a cousin who owned a house with a separate apartment and offered to put me in touch. I was ecstatic; it was even in a neighborhood I’d been looking in anyway.

The next week I went to see it. The landlord met me at the door. He was an older man, well older than me, anyway. He was dressed in a navy-blue pinstripe, clearly bespoke suit, wearing it like he was born with it.

“Good afternoon. I’m Nico Genovese. You must be Ms. Foster.”

For a few seconds I had trouble forming a sentence; I was mesmerized by his eyes. By him. He was stunningly handsome; I mean drop dead gorgeous. His black hair and sapphire blue eyes seemed to be staring directly into my soul.

“Yes. Thank you, Mr. Genovese.” I reached into my handbag and handed him back the keys that had been given to me.

“It’s no problem. And since we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, I think you should call me Nico.”

“Do call me Sophie. You’re right, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I didn’t expect you to be here. It’s a pleasant surprise.”

“I hadn’t planned to be here. I had a meeting, but it was cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances.”

Stepping outside, we started to walk around the side of the house where I saw another smaller door. He took out the key, unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open for me.

The apartment was on the small side, with a decent sized kitchen, a nice bedroom and a living room, but certainly larger than my old apartment. There was a large sliding door at the back of the living room which led into a beautiful garden.

It was very reasonably priced, and I could rent it month by month. I asked about renovations, after seeing the bathroom. Nico said he had no problem with me fixing up the place to my liking. After all, he was saving money that way and his next tenant got a newly renovated apartment. Either that or he didn’t expect me to stay very long.

On the surface it seemed perfect, but for some reason, I came away with a bad feeling about the place. I couldn’t put my finger on why. I shook it off and told myself I was being silly. But I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling I had.

“I love it,” I said with a grin. And I meant it, I really did love it. Walking towards the sliding door in the living room, I looked out into the garden. “Do we share the garden?” I asked.

“Yes, we do. I hope that’s all right,” he responded. “Maybe we can meet occasionally for dinner in the yard?”

“That would be lovely. I noticed you have a built-in barbeque. Do you mind if I have friends here and use it occasionally?”

“Of course not. This is your home. You’re welcome to have anyone you want here. I often have my friends here, too.” He smiled and gently caressed my arm, not in an overly friendly way but enough to startle me a bit. “I hear you bake.”

Chuckling I responded, “Yes, I love to bake. Until recently I worked in a large bakery, but the store will be closing in two weeks. I’ll miss it.”

“Well, you can bake for me anytime,” he teased. After about ten seconds, he said, “Let’s go to the main house and talk a bit. I’ll bring us a snack.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you,” I said as he took my hand and led me towards the door.

When he took my hand, I made an audible intake of breath, yet I couldn’t bring myself to take my hand out of his. There was something hypnotic about him; I was drawn to him more than I wanted to be. More than I thought it was safe to be, considering I’d just met him.

# # #

So, I moved in and it seemed like everything was working out well. I began renovations, starting with the smaller, easier repairs I could handle myself. Beginning in the bedrooms, I worked my way around the apartment. I’d left the bathroom until last since it would have to be completely ripped out. The walls, the floors. It all had to be replaced. I was taking before and after photos of each room so I could document what I’d done for insurance purposes.

Then the day came when I had to begin the bathroom. So, I hired a small construction crew to come and do the more difficult work.

One morning, the foreman came to me and asked why I’d moved all of their tools into a different room. He explained that they’d left their tools in the bathroom, so they’d be ready for them the next day. But today when they got here everything had been moved into a hall closet. He wondered if there was a reason and if he should put them back in the closet when they left that evening.

I was puzzled and asked him to show me. As we stood in the hallway, I scratched my head in disbelief. All the tools were neatly stacked in an empty hall closet. I told the foreman I didn’t move them. Heck, I couldn’t even lift most of them because they were just too heavy. Neither one of us could explain it.

They moved everything back into the bathroom and began to replace the walls. At lunchtime, the three guys went out in our yard and ate. When they were finished, they went back upstairs to wrap up what they had been doing. Then a few hours later they left.

That evening, after coming home from visiting a friend, I went upstairs to see what had been done. Once again, all the tools were moved, but this time they were left in the middle of the hallway. I made a mental note to ask the foreman about it the next day.

After dinner I decided to go to bed and read a bit. Around 11:00 PM I turned out the light - then it started. The breathing. At least, that’s what it sounded like. As I listened, I thought it sounded like someone with a breathing problem. It was irregular, raspy. Trying to pinpoint where it was coming from, I slowly got out of bed and walked around the room. It wasn’t specifically in the bedroom, that’s for sure.

As I got closer to the hallway it got louder; I was certain it was coming from the bathroom. There was no way in hell I was going to go into that room alone, so I went back to the bed. Then I wondered what I’d do if I had to use the bathroom. I mean, that was inevitable.

Screwing up my courage, I got out of bed again and slowly made my way down the hall. The breathing got louder and louder as I approached the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on light switch and turned it on. Silence. The breathing immediately stopped.

The next night the same thing happened, and the night after that, but the breathing was getting louder… and closer.

I’d had enough and knew I’d have to ask Nico about it. So, sometime after breakfast, I texted him to ask if he had a few minutes. He said to come over, so I stepped outside. The air was crisp and cool; It was lovely.

Walking to his front door, I knocked and a few minutes later he opened the door and beckoned me to enter.

“Sophie, how good to see you. How are you settling in?”

Smiling, I responded, “Well. I’ve been renovating things. You might want to stop by later to see it.”

“Yes, I noticed the workmen here. You’ve been very busy.”

“I have been. But that’s why I wanted to speak to you. Some strange things have been happening.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

I explained what had been happening with the work tools and the breathing sounds. I watched his eyebrows raise and his mouth pursed if he knew more than he was letting on. Then he told me he hadn’t heard about it and didn’t really know much about the property, having bought it though a real estate agent.

Seemed like a dead end. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me; I was determined to find out what was going on.

Monday morning rolled around, I went to work, as usual. I only had another two weeks in the shop before the location was closing. As I was packing some of the things at my desk, I began to tell my colleague about what was happening in the house. Thank God I did, because she was the answer to my problem.

She put me in touch with a paranormal investigation team who would come to the house, set up a bunch of equipment, spent the night doing their thing and taking a lot of photographs.

# # #

That evening I knocked on Nico’s door. “Sophie, what a nice surprise. Come in. I was just going out to the yard to sit and have a drink.”

“Thanks.” He motioned for me to follow him. “What can I get you? I’m having wine.”

I snickered because my answer would probably elicit the same response I always got. “I don’t drink wine. Most wines give me a headache.”

“So, what can I get you? I have a well-stocked bar,” he teased.

I grinned. “Would it shock you if I asked for vodka on the rocks?”

He threw his head back and laughed, “You surprise me. Vodka it is. Do I mix it with anything?”

“Nope. Just ice and vodka,” I answered as I watched him take ice out of the ice bucket and pour vodka in the glass. As he handed the glass to me, he motioned for me to move outside.

Stepping outside, I wished I had brought a sweater with me. I sat on a couch that had been put on the patio near a fire pit. I expected him to sit on a chair nearby, but he sat down next to me, squeezing us together to fit on the couch. That was fine with me since the extra body heat was welcome.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how chilly it is out here. I don’t really feel the cold that much,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I responded. “I should have remembered a sweater.”

He chuckled, “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep you warm.” He wrapped his arm around me shoulder and pulled me closer to him. “Is that better.”

I was startled, but then I leaned into him, “Yes, much better. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” he said, and I felt him kiss my head. If I was started before, I was even more startled now. Although that really wasn’t the correct word. I was confused. There was no doubt I was attracted to him. He was handsome in a suit but seeing him in jeans and a t-shirt really hammered that home. His tight shirt showed off every muscle.

I lifted my head to look at him and felt him kiss me lightly on the mouth. Then he ran his hand through my hair, leaned down and kissed me more forcefully. I couldn’t help myself. I responded to his kiss with equal passion.

Then he pulled back, “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have done that.”

I smiled, “I’m not sorry at all. I liked it and I sincerely hope it happens again.”

Grinning, he fisted my hair and kissed me. “Do you feel it? Between us, I mean?”

“Yes, I do. I felt it from the first moment I met you.”

Crossing his legs, he said, “I’ve never felt this kind of pull towards another person before. It’s like we were meant to meet each other. And yet… I know we really don’t know each other well.”

It was a good thing it was getting dark because I was blushing; I didn’t want him to see that. He continued, “But you came here for a reason and I’ve neglected that.”

Snickering, I responded. “Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been in contact with a paranormal research group. I’d like them to come to the apartment to do an investigation.”

“I see,” he said. I could tell he was uncomfortable with it.

“But if you have any objections, I won’t pursue it. I’m just curious to know why things are happening in there. I don’t mind it, in fact, I think it’s pretty cool. I just want to know what it is.”

His shoulders sunk and I saw him visibly relax. Taking a deep breath, he said, “What a relief!”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed, “What?”

“I was worried. None of the othr tenants I’ve had have stayed more than a few months. They were terrified. I’m so happy you don’t care.”

“But,” I started, “you know a lot more than you’re telling me, don’t you.”

“Yes and no. I know the woman who lived in this house before me was a recluse. Rumor has it she died in her bed in this house, but I have no proof of that. When I moved in, your apartment was part of the main house and I’ve been told her bedroom would have been where your bedroom is now. But that’s all I know.”

“Ah, I see. It’s beginning to make sense now. Maybe she doesn’t want me here and is trying to get rid of me.” I put my finger to my chin, “Do you know how she died?”

“No, I don’t,” he said. “But it might not be difficult to find out. Maybe your paranormal group will do research on the property.” He grinned, “You know, I’ve always wanted to explore this but none of the other tenants stayed long enough. I’m so happy we can do this.”

# # #

The next week Nico and I were joined by the research group. After setting up their equipment, we turned out the lights and the apartment quieted down. As if on cue, the breathing started. I was so grateful that someone else had heard it since I was beginning to doubt my own sanity.

A week later they came back with their report, which as Nico predicted, included the history of the location. It seems he was correct. Caroline Newton, the previous owner had indeed died in the house, at the ripe old age of 85. The copy of the death certificate showed she’d died from emphysema brought on by smoking.

The lead investigator explained that it could be what was known as a residual haunt – just an imprint in the atmosphere that replays itself over and over again. But he doubted that.

After seeing the uneasy look on my face, he brought out a photo he’d taken in the bathroom. The photo showed an older woman with a big smile on her face. I got a warm feeling when I saw it. Clearly, this woman wasn’t trying to be mean or scare me. She was happy. Maybe she was glad I was fixing up her house. I realized what I was hearing wasn’t anything harmful; she just wanted me to know she was still around.

Hey, I could live with that. At least now I knew who it was and could address her properly.

The next evening, Nico and I stood in my living room and had a chat with Mrs. Newton. We explained who we were and that we were happy to share the space with her.

“It feels odd talking into an empty room,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But just because we can’t see her doesn’t mean she’s not here. Maybe she sees us?”

“Maybe,” I said, as I wrapped my arm around his waist. “I hope she sees that we’re not going anywhere.”

He laughed, “I’m going to give her something else to see, too.” He put his hand to my chin and tilted my head up. Then slipping one arm around my waist and the other cradling my head, he kissed me. “I’m declaring to her, and to you, that I’ve fallen deeply in love with you.”

I sighed, “Nico… I love you, too. I hope she doesn’t mind.”

So, the lesson learned is that when you find yourself in a house that’s supposedly haunted, don’t assume it’s out to get you. You might have just found another friend.

NOTE: the photo that accompanies this story was certified as genuine by a Kodak photo lab. It was taken in the early 1980s with a film camera. It's not a double exposure and has not been tampered with. It was taken in an apartment in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn (NY).