Ever since I can remember George has been a part of our family.
As a little girl my mother would find my friend and I playing with an invisible friend who we recognized as the spirit of someone who died a long time ago. I didn't think it odd at the time, but now that I think back, we both knew where George was in the room and what he was doing without discussing it.
My mother didn't find it one bit odd because she knew him too. He would visit her in her room often when she was a teenager.
Specific stories I've heard and experienced were that one night he woke my mom and walked to the window. She looked out and saw someone in the back yard stealing my uncle's bike. Mom work up my grandpa who chased the person away.
Any bathing suits left laying around my grandmother's house will go missing, at least until you've given up on the idea of swimming and a day or two has passed, then the suit will be found folded neatly out in the open.
This is particularly odd when I am not one to fold my clothes, and had found folded bathing suits on top of my dresser with piles of clothes in the floor.
We suspect that George drowned and is trying to prevent us from doing the same. He's not attached to the house though. Sometimes he'll show up at my house or my uncle's house.
Towels I had left in my mom's car disappeared one day and were found folded on the couch when I arrived home.
We always recognize what it feels like when he's in the room. It's sort of like how you can hear someone come in the door and know who it is without looking.
While he is friendly, George is also secretive and has a temper. He's never spoken a word, so we're left calling him a generic name and guessing why he does what he does or who he might be.
When my brother was living with my grandma, he would listen to rap music loudly, at least for a few days until furniture began to get knocked over into the floor when he did so. Apparently George isn't a fan of rap.
He does love children though, and is particularly fond of the women in my family. I can't tell you how many times I've laid in my grandma's guest room and felt the blankets tuck in around me and seen an imprint on the end of the bed as if George were sitting there watching me fall asleep.
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