Coffee Shop Ghost
I own a coffee shop in Southern Indiana. I have a room in the back where I spend most of the week. I had just bought this place and after a few weeks I realized how strange it really was.
The first time that I noticed some strange happnings was about a week after I had opened the shop. It was getting late and I was closing the shop for the night. I heard something back in my room. I thought maybe it was just my cat playing with one of my feather pens until I heard a pop, like the sound a champagne bottle makes when the cork pops out. I inched my way toward the door and heard it again. I picked up a metal ruler on the counter and swung open the door. My cat flew between my feet and nearly scared me into a heart attack.
I stepped into the bedroom and looked around, but there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. I went around the corner into the bathroom and saw that my medicine cabinet was open. There was spilled peroxide all over the floor and aspirin spread all around in the sink. The shampoo bottle head had been unscrewed completely and spilled on the floor, seeping into the mat. I shut the door and searched the rest of the place, which seemed normal enough.
After I had cleaned the mess and locked up, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking I wasn't alone.
A few days later at about 2:00 in the afternoon, the busy part of my day, I was in my room typing and heard a commotion in the front. I hurried to the door thinking we were being robbed. I opened it and there were customers lining up in front of the register covered from head to toe in coffee foam or soda. I looked over at the machines and they were spraying foam and soda everywhere! I rushed over to it and unplugged it, now sticky and wet myself. I apologized for the inconvenience and offered everyone a free breakfast for the next day. I closed for clean up and called a repair man. He said there was nothing wrong with the machine and it was running fine.
Later, after I had cleaned the mess and ate supper, I was sitting at the bar drinking milk and balancing my checkbook when I saw someone sitting in the corner at one of the tables. I stood up and said, "We are closed. How did you get in?" He didn't answer, but stood up and walked toward the bar. I reached over toward the kitchen knives (which I keep on the underside of the counter for cooking), but when I looked back, he was not solid anymore, but more of a wisp of a shadow figure. As I watched, the closer he got, the more he continued to fade. By the time he reached me, he had vanished.
Since then, my coffee shop has become a 24-hour "haunted coffee shop," where people drop by for supper, hoping to see the ghost.
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