"We switched to a new cottage a few months before. As we were in the procedure of paying for the house, the resident who was staying in died suddenly of realistic reasons in his mid-50s. He died straight in the norm of the living area. Shortly after, we shifted into the cottage, and almost, immediately our four-year-old daughter started chatting about the person that dwelled in our house. Halloween had recently passed, and she had this Halloween-themed drawing book that she loved to browse, so it was completely reasonable that all these talks were just appearing from glancing through that book on a usual basis. Still, she kept notifying me that the ghost was in her playhouse, in the cellar, sometimes the ghost was on the notches and also that the ghost was standing in the corner.
She never appeared to be frightened of the ghost and considered him to be her friend so I wasn't much worried even if there really was a ghost haunting our house. If he's a nice and helpful ghost, it could necessarily be less terrible. I would always tell the ghost that he was welcome to stay if he wanted to, but he was also welcome to go if that would make him happier.
I was always doubtful about the ghost is real, until one day when we were going out to the daycare in the morning. It was, however, gloomy out and it was raining heavily. My daughter told me that the ghost was on the back deck of the car, she also told me that today was the ghost's birthday and she wanted to sing him Happy Birthday. Once again, I mostly ignored what she was mumbling, as she is birthday obsessed and has in the past made us sing Happy Birthday to Mickey Mouse, a bowl of fruit snacks, and the bathroom. So we sang and wished the ghost a happy birthday and went on with our lives. Later that day, out of pure curiosity, I looked up the necrology of the man who had died in our house.
And wouldn't you know it? It was his freaking birthday."
© Anjali