The mother-in-law ghost moving furniture in the attic turned out to be a snake and the blood was only clay-stained rainwater finding its way through the poorly flashed roof and porous chimneys.
Guests have dreamed of the people who died here. A small boy in the hallway, an old lady in a white shift. A disapproving presence hovering in the guest room. Few of those who sensed these entities could report actually seeing them.
Start a conversation with a large enough group of people about ghosts, and you'll find those who don't believe, and those who do. But almost all would agree that ghosts, either through non-existence or their nature, are invisible except under very special circumstances.
Ghosts are real. The invisible move among us all the time.
I work 2nd shift, and the most common questions I get asked about my job relate to being alone in the building. I'm not alone, though. Okay, so I have an actual living, breathing co-worker right now, but let's say it's Wednesday night, when she has the night off. The ghosts visit me during the night, just a word, but now and then long, engaging conversations. The newest ghost is voluble; she'll talk our heads off, if we let her. Yes, my co-worker sees the ghosts as well.
I know their names, I know a little about their families. You see, if you take the time to say hello, they're real people, with real lives. The people who take care of us, clean up after our messes, make sure that our buildings stays clean and shiny. I wasn't always this way. They used to be ghosts to me, too. And then there was the time, more than a year ago, that Hazel asked me about whether the floor girl mops or sweeps. She'd had complaints, you see. And I was actually present while she worked, could I vouch for her? How embarrassing to realize I had let her move about me, without regard to her actions. I had no idea if she was mopping or merely sweeping, and the floors always looked good to me. I'd never even bothered to learn her name.
We talk with disdain about the Indian caste system and the Untouchables, but we turn whole classes of people into ghosts here, by our disinterest. What was the name of the last person who took your order at a restaurant? Who spotted you that penny in change for the coffee? Who emptied your office wastebasket while you were home snug in bed? We can't know those we don't meet, but we can take those introductions we do get as opportunities.
We may even find new friends.