I used to live in a haunted house.

But most people hear me say that they chuckle and don't usually believe me, but I'd seen

undeniable proof of the ghost who I'd come to refer to as Patrick or Pat for short,

that it happens my home.

I mean, in fact, on a few occasions I'd seen him in my own eyes.

Typically, when people think of haunted houses, they think of old, dusty, two-story homes

that were built on Native American burial grounds, or was the place of a death year's prior.

I can tell you now that neither of those things is the case when it comes to my home.

My grandfather built this house after he married my grandmother, and it's been in my family

ever since.

After my grandmother died, it was inherited by my father, and after he and my mother passed,

it came to me.

When you might be thinking that Pat must be the ghost of my grandfather, or father.

No, that's wrong, too.

He's been around ever since my grandfather completed construction.

It wasn't like he was there during the process of building the house either.

Pat literally showed up the day after all the work was said and done.

Obviously, this initially freaked out my grandparents.

Nothing malicious ever happened, though.

Just some sounds of footsteps, the occasional sounds of the doors opening and closing,

and the drop of temperature in whatever room Pat was in at the time.

I thought of a ghost being in their home, however.

...