Hmm... want to hear a ghost story, you say? Well, here's mine...
The following is an odd experience I myself witnessed while working at one of the yacht clubs here (location undisclosed for respect to the establishment in question).
Back in 2002, I worked a short four-month tenure during the summer there, in order to make some extra income while attending the local college here. For the most part, my employment there was uneventful, save for one uncomfortable experience near the end of my time there.
I was hired on as a server and dishwasher for the restaurant that was operating out of the second floor of the establishment (from what I know, that restaurant has long since gone from that location). It was a fairly spacious venue, with a decent-sized banquet room/dance area with an adjacent smaller dinning room, a small bar and a lounge area immediately in front of that.
Late one night, I was assigned to clean all of the dishes from the earlier banquet meal put on by the restaurant owners for the club’s membership. Everyone else had relocated to the lower floor, which housed the main bar, a piano and a larger lounge area. The set of double doors leading down to the main floor had been left ajar, the sounds of music and boisterous chatter being heard from down below.
I was the only one on the second floor, the banquet room already having been cleared of tables and the bar closed and locked for the night. As such, the lights in all areas of the second floor aside from the kitchen itself had been turned off.
The double sink in the kitchen was situated along the wall where the second floor bar was set up on the other side. I had plenty of plates, pots and pans piled all around me, and as it was nearing closing time I decided to get to work on the task at hand so as not to be there any later than necessary.
For the first little while, I just quietly went about my business, cleaning as vigorously and quickly as I could so I could put an end to that particularly long shift. I was maybe half way through all the dishes when I heard the first odd sound; a set of heavy footfalls, coming from outside the brightly-lit confines of the kitchen.
It wouldn’t have seemed so odd to me if it hadn’t been for the fact that I knew the outside entrance leading from the ground floor had already been locked, and from where I was standing in the kitchen, next to one of two doors going in and out of that area, I had a clear line-of-sight to the set of double doors going downstairs. I would’ve easily seen anyone come up from the main bar, but had not.
I stood still for a moment, at first baffled by the sound. I was almost certain I hadn’t seen anyone amble up the stairs to the second floor. Besides, what would’ve been the point, as all the other lights were out and the bar on this level closed. Perhaps, someone in a somewhat drunken state had aimlessly wandered up there to look around, just for kicks.
The thing that first put the hairs of the back my neck on end was where I initially heard the heavy footfalls; it was at the opposite end of the banquet room floor, away from that set of doors. Surely I would have heard a person’s footsteps far sooner if they’d made their way across the floor? But, alas, I had not.
After not hearing the sound for a few moments, I went back to my work. Not too long after, though, I again heard those heavy footfalls. I once more stopped what it was that I was doing and listened intently. The footfalls sounded slightly muffled, indicating they started over at the coffee station at the far end of the banquet room (the small coffee station area was the only carpeted portion on the second floor, hence why the footfalls would’ve sounded muffled).
As I continued to listen, the footsteps proceeded to move from the coffee station over the banquet room floor, the sharp clap of hard-soled shoes echoing in the darkness. As the footfalls progressed, it became clear that whoever, or whatever, was walking out there was moving in the direction of the kitchen. I then began to feel a sense of apprehension as the footfalls got closer.
My pace quickening, I quickly grabbed up a heavy pan and raised it above my head in a defensive stance. I don’t know why I acted so aggressively, as I tend to be a person not committed to such behaviour, but for some inexplicable reason that feeling of anxiety I felt urged me to. Something was not right about this.
The heavy footfalls continued to get ever closer, and my anxiety increased proportionately. At the point where I should’ve seen someone walk by the open doorway, there was nothing but empty air, and it was then that the footfalls ceased. Pan in hand, I ever so slowly inched toward the opening, feeling around in the dark for the light switch to the right of the door, and threw on the lights in the banquet room. That area now brightly lit, I felt confident enough to step out from the kitchen.
There was no one there. I carefully, cautiously, made my way around the rest of the second floor looking for anyone that might have made their way up there. Aside from myself, there was not another living soul on that floor.
Visibly shaken, I quickly backtracked into the kitchen and hastily got to work on the second half of dishes needing to be done. As the speed of my clean-up job increased, finally making some real progress with my chores, the next sound I heard practically made my heart leap into my throat.
I heard a sudden knocking on the other side of the wall I was facing, where the upstairs bar was set up. I must have jumped at least a couple feet in the air, but managed to restrain myself enough so as not to yelp. I cleaned the dishes as fast as I could so that I could just get the hell out of there.
The sound didn’t go away this time, however. If anything, it got worse. What started out as a light knocking soon became a harsh pounding on the wall, so much so it shook the dishes on the shelves hanging off that wall.
Terrified, nearly scared out of my wits, I began shakily humming, then whistling, a tune off the top of my head to help calm my nerves (I can’t recall what it was I was “singing”). Almost as soon as I started, the unsettling sound stopped. Not wanting that disturbing noise to return, I continued humming/whistling that tune as I quickly cleaned the remaining dishes.
As startled as I was by these occurrences, being the analytical person I am I couldn’t help but evaluate the situation. Why had the sounds suddenly stopped? Was it the musical melody I began singing that caused that? I couldn’t be sure, but liked to think that it was.
Just a few minutes later, I managed to finish with the dishes. Anxious to get out of there, but at the same time curious, when I came out of the kitchen I went over to where the bar was and looked at the little gap between the bar top and the sliding shutter (locked when the bar is not in use) from a few feet back. Not unexpectedly, but unnerving all the same, the lights in the bar were indeed off, leaving no doubt in my mind that there had been no one in there.
My curiosity more than satisfied, I hastily spot-cleaned the sink area and counters, threw my apron on the counter and promptly left the second floor, turning off the lights behind me. When I made it downstairs, one of the owners noticed I was very shaken, and when they asked what was wrong, I simply replied that I wouldn’t work up on the second floor alone, and especially at night. With that, I said my good-byes and went home.
The following week, during a break period I sat down with the owners and a few of the others employees in the lounge area in front of the small bar on the upper floor and recounted my eerie experience. Upon completion of my story, one of the other employees there, a groundskeeper, shared his own similar experience from months before.
One night, after doing some late-night grounds work, he decided it would be a waste of time to go home so instead opted to spend the night sprawled out on one of the couches in the lounge area on the second floor, in front of the bar. As he had keys to all of the facilities on the property, he had no trouble unlocking the outside entrance coming up from the ground floor and made his way inside.
Just after he’d settled in on the couch, the entire second floor cast in pitch-black darkness, he suddenly heard music; there was a stereo system set up in one corner of the banquet room for social functions, but after hours the cabinet it was in was always locked.
The groundskeeper, uncertain of what was going on, turned on the banquet floor lights and went over to check the stereo system. To his astonishment, the cabinet doors were stilled locked. At that, the groundskeeper didn’t waste any time in vacating the second floor. He quickly locked the outside entrance behind him as he jumped in his car and went home.
As unrattling as it was to hear of the groundskeeper’s frightful experience, at the same time I found it somewhat comforting to know I wasn’t the only one to have had a run-in with whoever or whatever it was that inhabited the second floor of the yacht club. And, clearly, there appeared to be a bit of history to the strange goings-on there, as I wasn’t the first one to experience it.
I asked about what in the club’s history could’ve caused such occurrences to take place, but no one really had anything definitive.
According to the club’s history, at an early point in its life there had been a fire on the property which had destroyed most of the main building that required significant reconstruction, but no one knew if anyone had been involved in the fire so far as dying as a result of it. As far as anyone knew, there had been no fatalities.
There was, however, a rumour that in more recent days, after the rebuild in the 1950’s, a club member had died either on or near the water as he was attempting to put his yacht in the water. It is said that the man, who was so in love with yachting and the club he was a member of, then never left and took up residence as the establishment’s other-worldly guest.
Apparently, despite the rather distressing encounters people have had with this entity, he has never exhibited any signs of aggression or violence. He does nothing to really interfere with the club’s operations, and as was shown in both my own experience and that of the afore-mentioned groundskeeper, have an affinity for music.
Of course, this could not be substantiated, but all the same made for a reasonable, if not tangible, explanation for these odd events.
Perhaps his manifestations, if anything, are just his way of letting others know he’s there. And possibly, he has been there for quite some time. Granted, it’s been a few years since I’ve been there, so I can’t say if any odd instances have occurred there to prove he still resides there, but if so he is clearly a peaceful spirit who wishes harm on no one. He just likes being there.
Nevertheless, I myself know what it was I experienced that night, know that I wasn’t simply imaging things, and luckily had others to help support my claims, and makes for something I will definitely never forget.
