This is completely random, but there is something creepy going on and I had to share it with you.
My parents live in a picture-perfect suburban neighborhood. Think Leave it to Beaver or some shit like that. Two story houses. Manicured lawns. Kids playing outside. Etc.
Well, my parents' neighbor on the left side is this old man who rarely comes out of his house. Whenever he does, it is usually to scowl at people while he waters his lawn.When my parents moved in ten years ago, neighbors told them that this man has a wife who hasn't been seen in years. Like, she used to hang out outside all the time and then one day, she just stopped. It's like she went inside the house one day and never came out.
So, ten years go by and my parents have never seen this woman. It's like she doesn't exist.
A few months ago, my mom and I were walking in the neighborhood and this vintage blue Mercedes driving down the street screeched to a halt in front of us. The old lady driver with bright red lipstick rolled down her window and said, "Hello neighbors!"
We were confused and then stunned when she introduced herself as The Woman Next Door. The missing woman! She called herself Melissa.
"I was just on my way home when I saw you girls and wanted to say hi," said Melissa, with a big grin, showing red lipstick on her teeth.
She cheerfully went on to tell us that she's been watching our every move for the past ten years. She knew my mom's work schedule. She knew that I'd graduated college and moved out. She knew our names. She said she just sits at home and stares out her window at the neighbors every day.
She asked if she could have coffee with my mom some time. My mom suggested going to the coffee shop down the street.
"There's a coffee shop down the street?" Melissa asked, mystified. "When did it open?"
"Um, eight years ago," my mom replied.
She asked my mom for her phone number, but when my mom asked for Melissa's phone number, Melissa just smiled and drove away.
After that encounter, Melissa started showing up everywhere. We saw her walking outside. We saw her watering roses in her backyard. We saw her driving by.
When my mom told other neighbors that we'd not only seen Melissa, but talked to her, they were stunned. They didn't even know Melissa was out and about again after all these years.
A month ago, my parents and I attended a Swedish festival at a town one hour away. While we were sampling lingonberry sauce at a booth, we heard a "hello neighbors!" We turned around and there was Melissa, draped in a Swedish dress, bonnet, and apron. She looked like a giant mechanical doll from the "It's a Small World" ride at Disneyland.
When we walked over to her, Melissa said that she is Swedish, just like my mom. She talked my parents' ears off for almost 30 minutes. During this time, I found it odd that nobody else at the Swedish festival was in costume. And nobody was looking at Melissa strangely.
A couple days ago, Melissa called my mom and told her that she enjoyed making jewelry just like my mom does. She asked her to go to a jewelry fair. So, they went to the fair and had lunch afterwards.
My mom went back to the jewelry fair the next day because she had to pick up an order. When she asked the organizer of the fair if Melissa's order was ready, the man didn't know what my mom was talking about. He said he didn't remember my mom being there with anyone.
So, as a child of the R.L. Stine generation, I can only surmise this logical conclusion:
Melissa is a ghost.