100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2025. #53. The Old Home Owner.

 The murmur of a child's voice called out from within the confines of a garage in a Kaimuki house.

The water punching bag, suspended from a wooden beam with thick chains, creaked back and forth in the midnight silence. It raised the hackles on the back of the homeowner's neck. Nothing moved, nothing ached in the wood as the house settled in silence. It was too quiet, which made the experience unnerving because it was clear that the shoe was going to fall at any second. There it was again, the clear murmuring of a child. It wasn't from the neighbors next door because they'd gone out for the evening. It couldn't be the house on the opposite end, because there were no children. Just the 90-year-old Ojisan and his four sons, who were all in their late 60s and early 70s. The murmur came again, and instantly, the homeowner knew where it was coming from. Without looking, he knew it was coming from somewhere up above in the branches of his mango tree. What was a child doing up there, by itself at such a height? Did it climb or...he didn't want to broach the thought, yet there was the murmur one more time. His entire body was riddled with goosebumps, but he steeled his heart and slowly looked up into the thick branches of his mango tree, using his high-powered flashlight to discern shadow from specter, and ghost from goul. Nothing otherworldly sat in the upper reaches of the mango tree, except for what looked like an oblong orange object. Good gosh, it was a Bluetooth speaker with a name written on it in permanent marker ink. 

BENJI

It belonged to his grandson, who had climbed the mango tree earlier that morning, for a good-sized fruit from which he was going to concoct his own pickled mango sauce from apple whiskey. Going back into his home, the owner went to his grandson's room and found him fast asleep with his phone next to him, which happened to be on FaceTime. On the other side was Benji's girlfriend, Freeda, who was also fast asleep. Her snoring sounded like the murmur of a small child. The mystery was solved, and the homeowner quietly hung up the phone and kissed his grandson on the forehead before walking out of his room. All was quiet, safe, and sound. 

The homeowner's wife appeared near the bathroom door and scolded her husband. "Stop stalking around late at night like that, you're going to scare everyone."

"I thought I heard something," he retorted.

"There's nothing to hear," the wife replied. "It's all in your head!"

The homeowner said nothing and took his wife's hand as they retired to their room to lie in bed. Soon, the two faded into nothing, and all their bedroom faded away too. The house and everyone in it would be fine, but once in a while, the grandfather has to come back from the other side, just to make sure.