John, If you had seen and experienced what my adult daughter and I have you would have your proof.

Our house in the city was built in 1889 and some time in the past 50-60 years was converted to apartments.( Sorry, John.The only crack here would be the cracks in the walls, ceilings, and foundation.) We live on the first floor and have use of the basement for storage and laundry.

On the east wall of our living room, flanking the fireplace, are two doors.The one on the right is a closet that was built during the conversion to apartments. Before that, it was open, leading to the hall and front door. The door to the left leads to the dining room. On the south wall there is an eight-foot wide set of pocket doors that open to my bedroom, originally the front parlor, where there is another set that lead to the hall.

Last Thanksgiving I was sitting in our livingroom watching TV in the early evening. The doors to my bedroom were open and I was sitting in a chair not five feet away from them. Suddenly, the dark figure of a man wearing a cloak and hat rushed out of my bedroom and disappeared through the closet beside the fireplace. I was shaken and of course thought I was seeing things so I told no one about it.

Over Thanksgiving weekend, my daughter went down to the basement to do laundry. When she came back up, she told me that when she had opened the door to the basement, she saw a light shining on the wall at the foot of the stairs. Thinking a light was left on somewhere, she went down and looked around but no light was burning other than the ones that came on when she flipped the switch at the top of the stairs. She said that I probably would think she was nuts but she insisted she DID see this light. I didn't comment. I was thinking about the man in the cloak and flat, round-brimmed black hat that had disapeared into the front hall.

The following weekend, I opened the basement door and there it was, the light at the bottom of the stairs. I thought the same thing my daughter did, that a light was left on. I went down the stairs with my laundry basket and sat it in front of the washer. I looked around, just like she did and guess what, there were no lights on in any other part of the basement. I went ahead and started the washer but was filled with terror and I had to force myself to be reasonable and stay in the basement. Once that washer was filled I ran up the stairs and slammed the door shut calling to my daughter to tell her about the light. I also told her about the man in the cloak. The next day a friend of hers came over and, armed with a flashlight, went into the the basement and turned on each of the five lights, one at a time, and none of them cast a light one the wall like we saw. No light comes in the windows as they were painted black by a previous tenant. So where did the light come from, John?

I discovered just this past week that there was a murder in this house in the 1920s. Someone was beaten to death with a pipe, possibly in the basement. Until I saw these things for myself I didn't believe in "ghosts" either but you can bet, I do now.