Carl’s Place

House, Brick, Front View, Shrubs, Front Door, Home
Pixabay

It wasn’t much to look at.  This was no Gothic mansion, or Victorian stately home.  It was a quiet house on a tree-lined suburban street.  It wasn’t the site of some violent murder, or desperate suicide either.  It was an ordinary heart attack of a fifty-seven year old electrical repairman, while eating a pastrami sandwich in his living room. 

 

Carl Jorgensen was an amiable enough fellow, but never really got on with his wife, Karen after the “honeymoon was over.”   They grew apart, and divorced when Carl was fifty-two.   He lived alone, and suspicion was only aroused when he failed to make a couple of call-out appointments on Monday.

 

The customers called repeatedly, and the voice-mail on his phone soon filled.  It was when his daughter, Amy tried to call that she grew concerned.  After all, he always answered the phone, and never had that many messages unanswered.

 

She arrived late Monday evening to find the television on, and Carl dead on the couch.  The usual tearful panic ensued, and it was obvious that it was too late for anything to be done.

 

Amy found it hard to deal with the aftermath, and ended up paying a house clearance firm to put the place in order for it to be sold.   Even with full disclosure of the death on the premises, the property was purchased within two months.

 

The Stevensons were a happy young couple, and they were expecting the arrival of their first child in February.   The house was affordable, and seemed to have all they were looking for as a “first step on the property ladder.” 

 

With the contracts signed, and with great expectations they moved in and began to redecorate, and to make the place “theirs.”  It was on the third night in the house that they had the first inkling that something wasn’t quite right.  The light in the utility room, which had previously been Carl’s workroom, kept coming on.  No matter how many times David turned it off, it would come back on.  Finally in frustration, he removed the bulb.

 

On their first Friday night, the television in the living room switched itself from their favourite talent competition to re-runs of Seventies sit-coms. 

 

“I will call the cable company in the morning,” David said.

 

“Please do, because this is really freaky,” Miriam said more in annoyance than fear.

 

The cable guy couldn’t find any faults in the system, but installed a new box anyway, and all seemed fine until the following Friday when the same this happened again.

 

Soon after they noticed that several of their electrical items seemed to go missing, only to reappear days later and in better working order.  Not only in better order, but in some cases upgraded. 

 

The spirit of Carl Jorgensen was definitely at work, and though Miriam wanted to contact a priest or exorcist, David convinced her that now real harm was being done, and to think of all the money they were saving on gadget repairs and upgrades.  Watching a few reruns of All in the Family was surely a small price to pay for such convenient service.


Padre

Inspired by Writer’s Digest Prompt:  How to Haunt a House

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