The Ghost That Went Poo
The office building in which we have our offices is frequently mentioned in books about haunted locations in my hometown as being,
The history of the building itself lends credence to such speculation …
It is an older building, first built in the mid-1800’s;
There was a fire in the building in the early 1900’s;
People died in the building.
We have had our offices in the building for almost 2 decades,
And I must say that if it is really one of the more active haunted locations in my hometown,
Then we really don’t have that much haunted activity in my hometown.
It is fairly quiet here.
But that doesn’t mean there is no activity in the building,
Or odd stuff happening.
However, for the most part,
It takes very little effort to rationalize away 99.8% of any curious happenings.
Over all these years,
I have personally only had three incidents which though I have rationalized away,
Fully appreciate the rationalization is sketchy,
Or at least leaves a bit of doubt.
This is the story of my most recent,
Odd event happening,
Which I still haven’t completely sold myself on the debunking,
Not that there isn’t a viable explanation,
But that the one I have sold myself on just hasn’t completely convinced me yet.
Like my second experience,
This one happened in broad daylight.
Which certainly reduces the spooky scariness of the incident,
But elevates the quantity of WTFness present as your brain processes what it thought it experienced.
This event happened on a Thursday.
The day of the week means absolutely nothing,
We have one women’s restroom on our floor,
And at the time …
Three women working on our floor.
And though it was never discussed,
It sort of was like we all had our own stall.
Mine is the middle one.
An extended-size stall was on my toilet left.
And a duplicate stall in size on my toilet right.
I walked into the restroom,
Turned the light on,
Entered the middle stall,
And properly positioned myself for toilet usage.
Having brought my phone,
I started to check the Twitter,
It was at that moment when it happened …
FLLAPFLLLAASSTAPLAHSSSHTTTPPPA PA PA PA FFFFFFFFFFA
No, it wasn’t me.
Yes, that’s as close as I can write a very vocal discharge of gas.
Upon hearing such coming from the stall toilet left,
I laughed a bit as my inner monologue wondered what grandpa was doing in the women’s restroom.
I actually did laugh out loud and
Hoped the next stall occupant didn’t hear me.
Then seconds later I not so immediately thought,
I’m pretty sure I am alone in the restroom.
So I did the curiousity killed the cat thing,
And leaned down to look under the stall to see if I could recognize the shoes of my neighbor,
To identify who was Edmund Fitzgeralding that bowl.
Which is when I became confused,
Because I didn’t see any legs or feet in the stall …
So I turned my head and looked under the stall to my right,
And likewise saw no legs.
I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling wondering if somehow the noise I heard could have come from the restroom above me.
But … I decided that was the explanation.
No one to the left of me,
No one to the right,
And it definitely wasn’t me.
So back to Twitter.
FLLAPFLLLAASSTAPLAHSSSHTTTPPPA PA PA PA FFFFFFFFFFA
This time I was sure.
The sounds definitely came from the stall to my left.
So I looked down again to see if there were feet …
There were not.
And no plops of anything in the toilet water,
So it must have just been gas.
And lots of it.
There has to be someone there,
But wait …
I turned the lights on when I walked into the restroom, yeah?
It was dark in this windowless room,
When I arrived.
I know I turned on the lights.
Think I’ll just finish my business and leave.
So upon exiting the stall,
I walked over to the sinks that were on the opposite side of the wall,
While still trying to figure out the source of the loud sounds.
I took the position with the sink closest to the extended stall that had been to my toilet left.
It was more extended that I thought and I could tell the stool was further away from the shared common stall wall than I would have guessed,
So I figured I would do one more under the stall scan for legs or feet,
And that’s when I had success.
There were a pair of legs and feet in the stall.
Dirty canvas, white shoes,
Attached to a younger looking set of bare calfs.
What was out of the norm though was the person in the stall had turned their body so the legs were positioned on the left side of the toilet seat,
Meaning even had I gotten a good look under the stall when I was sitting on it,
I might not have ever seen the legs.
And they were maybe trying to keep their presence hidden.
I concluded that someone from not in the building had come into the building to use the restroom,
Since on our floor,
The restrooms are unlocked and always open.
At least I know I wasn’t imagining the sounds.
So I dried my hands,
Exited the restroom,
Walked away from the door as it closed,
And promptly took up position in the lobby to see who exited the restroom.
Don’t get me wrong,
I have no problem with anyone using the restrooms on our floor,
My curiosity was solely based on wanting to know who in the world belted out the boisterous volume of gas that I heard.
So I waited.
Glancing frequently at my phone,
While keep a peripheral focus the door.
Waiting for it to open.
But it didn’t open.
So I continued to wait.
Clearly not the most efficient use of my time,
But eventually I …
Walked back into the restroom.
The light was still on,
As I had left it,
But when I looked under the stalls for feet,
I didn’t see any.
So I poke opened each stall,
And found each empty.
There was no one but me in the restroom.
I rationalized the empty restroom as being the result of either the individual following me closely out of the restroom when I initially exited and before I turned back around to take up position for watch,
Or maybe they left while I was on watch and my peripheral vision just sucks.
I sold myself on the latter,
As I don’t attribute this to paranormal,
Just not normal.
If upon passing I find myself hanging around there here parts,
My ghost thing is going to be passing gas,
And being amused when the living are blamed.