Ross had heard the footsteps since moving in seven years earlier. Whenever he went through to his kitchen or to use his bathroom he would hear one or two steps follow him, then total silence. It could happen morning, afternoon, evening or even well into the wee small hours. Sometimes he just noticed a tell-tale creak right above his ceiling.
The elderly lady in the flat above was called Brenda. She was quite deaf and had a housekeeping routine that suggested obsessive compulsive disorder. Ross got on quite well with her.
Both of them were very private people. Neither made much if any noise, despite their homes being flimsily built, and both enjoyed quiet solitude. There were never any weekend parties.
But Ross hated feeling as if he were being monitored, his observer hidden, especially when visiting his bathroom.
But he'd never spoken to Brenda about the issue - that is, not until he did.
"Brenda, I think we have a ghost haunting our flats, a poor lost soul," he said as they both put full bags into their respective wheelie bins out in the backyard.
"Oh?" she said, clutching the bag in her hands and pulling it closer in to her emaciated frame.
"Each time I go to the bathroom or into the kitchen, or at least most times, I hear footsteps tiptoe above me a couple of seconds later, then just a creepy silence."
Brenda said nothing. She was processing his words. She stood still, now looking slightly bewildered.
A gentle rain had started and Ross took Brenda's full wheelie bin out front for the next morning's pick-up. As the wheels made their trundling sound he thought about what he'd just told his neighbour, wondering how she would respond.
Ross then returned to the yard to get his own wheelie bin, only to find Brenda had vanished.
Luke 19:10 - KJV