Posted On: September 26, 2023

As I've mentioned before, my house has a ghost named Marie.

The following is a little background on how we first became aware of her, and discovered the possible reason for her 'attachment' to the property.

Designed in the American Foursquare style, our house could be described as sort of an 'expanded bungalow'.

While most 'true' bungalows are 1 1/2 stories, ours is 2 1/2, plus a full basement; a nice, middle-class home of its time, it originally cost $4,000 to construct.

Like many in our part of Chicago, it has a connection to the Chicago and North Western Railway (now Metra) in that its first owner was a railroad conductor on the north line.

However, he and his family did not stay there long; in 1916, they sold the home to a woman (whose name I've unfortunately forgotten) who stayed till 1926.

The next owner was Marie (Mrs. Marie Britt), a married mother of four and a grammar-school teacher.

Of Mr. Britt, I don't know much except he was a printer by trade.and that his name was not on the deed, something rather unusual for that era.

But, after learning (thru census records) the couple was still together in 1940, I came to the conclusion the reason for his 'omission' from the document wasn't marital discord, but rather the fact Marie wanted to make sure the house remained in her name only, perhaps because she'd purchased it with money from a personal inheritance.

Wanting to maintain sole ownership was a very advanced way of thinking for 1926, but perhaps in keeping with a woman who'd graduated college and continued her career after marriage.

Of course, I knew none of this when my husband and I first bought the house.with money from my own inheritance.

I just knew the place was affordable because, frankly, it needed work.

Top priority was an overhaul of the only full bathroom, which at the time featured a broken toilet, a sink that wasn't up to code, and a clawfoot tub oddly encased in tile.

We were told by the contractors we hired that, at minimum, making it functional would take 3 to 4 weeks, meaning we could not move in right away.

(Thankfully, our landlord agreed to extend our apartment lease, so we had somewhere to stay!).

As I was then employed part-time, it became my 'second job' to supervise work on the house, so every chance I got,

I'd pack a lunch and head over there to spend a few hours watching new electric lines being 'pulled', tile being laid, etc.

Due to it being August (with the new central a/c system not yet installed) this wasn't a lot of fun, but I did make use of my time familiarizing myself with the house, which at 2800+ sq. feet., was much bigger than anything I'd ever lived in.

One day, making my rounds, I got a distinct feeling someone was accompanying me. I felt them by my side as I assessed the empty rooms on the second floor, envisioning which would be our bedroom, which our home office, etc.

Unafraid of ghosts/spirits, I eventually asked the presence, "Who are you?.

Can you tell me your name?".

And the answer came whispered, 'Marie'.

Now, I was a little skeptical as to where this name had come from, since my own middle name is Marie, in honor of my father's sister.

Could it be that my subconscious was just throwing something familiar back at me?.

I decided to answer that question by doing some research at City Hall (where records of deed transfers are kept).

In other words, in order to trust my psychic sense, I felt I needed a foundation in fact.

Finding Marie's name amongst the prior owners (she was the only one with that first name), I was elated, and soon began dedicating myself to following her 'paper trail', looking up census records, obits, etc.

The more I found, the more real she became.and the more I liked her.

I began noticing little things around the house that spoke to her residency, such as an old, wall-mount 'schoolroom' type pencil sharpener dating to the 1920s to 1930s. 

Next, I discovered a notation on the bottom of a kitchen drawer that read, "Fixed this, June 1936".

(She did a pretty good job, considering the repair lasted about 60 years, before we had to do it again.).

After two years of ownership, I was finding evidence of Marie everywhere, but I had nothing besides hearing her whispered name to indicate she was still present.

Would she ever show herself in a way that confirmed her ongoing existence?.

Well, she did, but not to my husband or myself. Instead, she appeared to 'Jim', a police officer moonlighting as a carpenter, whom we'd hired to replace/recreate some wood trim and re-hang a door.

Working nights in a busy precinct, 'Jim' was not a guy given to flights of fantasy; yet one day, when we arrived home, he had quite a story to share.

He told us that while on his knees installing baseboard, he'd looked up for a moment.and seen a woman dressed in 1920s attire, coming down the stairs from the second floor.

After regarding his work briefly, she vanished, making him feel he'd gotten her 'seal of approval'!.

Later, I would sense (but not see) Marie on those same stairs, when she literally passed through me as I went up and she went down.

That experience is hard to describe, except to say she felt cold and 'tingly' going thru, like a couple hundred low-voltage electrical shocks happening at once.

Our stairs are uncarpeted, so my experience definitely wasn't due to static!.

After nearly three decades in this house, we now have a collection of Marie stories, not only proving her continued existence, but establishing that she's a protective spirit, still looking after 'her' house 97 years after she purchased it.

Post from user RemonterLeTemps at at reddit.

Posted On: September 26, 2023

As I've mentioned before, my house has a ghost named Marie.

The following is a little background on how we first became aware of her, and discovered the possible reason for her 'attachment' to the property.

Designed in the American Foursquare style, our house could be described as sort of an 'expanded bungalow'.

While most 'true' bungalows are 1 1/2 stories, ours is 2 1/2, plus a full basement; a nice, middle-class home of its time, it originally cost $4,000 to construct.

Like many in our part of Chicago, it has a connection to the Chicago and North Western Railway (now Metra) in that its first owner was a railroad conductor on the north line.

However, he and his family did not stay there long; in 1916, they sold the home to a woman (whose name I've unfortunately forgotten) who stayed till 1926.

The next owner was Marie (Mrs. Marie Britt), a married mother of four and a grammar-school teacher.

Of Mr. Britt, I don't know much except he was a printer by trade.and that his name was not on the deed, something rather unusual for that era.

But, after learning (thru census records) the couple was still together in 1940, I came to the conclusion the reason for his 'omission' from the document wasn't marital discord, but rather the fact Marie wanted to make sure the house remained in her name only, perhaps because she'd purchased it with money from a personal inheritance.

Wanting to maintain sole ownership was a very advanced way of thinking for 1926, but perhaps in keeping with a woman who'd graduated college and continued her career after marriage.

Of course, I knew none of this when my husband and I first bought the house.with money from my own inheritance.

I just knew the place was affordable because, frankly, it needed work.

Top priority was an overhaul of the only full bathroom, which at the time featured a broken toilet, a sink that wasn't up to code, and a clawfoot tub oddly encased in tile.

We were told by the contractors we hired that, at minimum, making it functional would take 3 to 4 weeks, meaning we could not move in right away.

(Thankfully, our landlord agreed to extend our apartment lease, so we had somewhere to stay!).

As I was then employed part-time, it became my 'second job' to supervise work on the house, so every chance I got,

I'd pack a lunch and head over there to spend a few hours watching new electric lines being 'pulled', tile being laid, etc.

Due to it being August (with the new central a/c system not yet installed) this wasn't a lot of fun, but I did make use of my time familiarizing myself with the house, which at 2800+ sq. feet., was much bigger than anything I'd ever lived in.

One day, making my rounds, I got a distinct feeling someone was accompanying me. I felt them by my side as I assessed the empty rooms on the second floor, envisioning which would be our bedroom, which our home office, etc.

Unafraid of ghosts/spirits, I eventually asked the presence, "Who are you?.

Can you tell me your name?".

And the answer came whispered, 'Marie'.

Now, I was a little skeptical as to where this name had come from, since my own middle name is Marie, in honor of my father's sister.

Could it be that my subconscious was just throwing something familiar back at me?.

I decided to answer that question by doing some research at City Hall (where records of deed transfers are kept).

In other words, in order to trust my psychic sense, I felt I needed a foundation in fact.

Finding Marie's name amongst the prior owners (she was the only one with that first name), I was elated, and soon began dedicating myself to following her 'paper trail', looking up census records, obits, etc.

The more I found, the more real she became.and the more I liked her.

I began noticing little things around the house that spoke to her residency, such as an old, wall-mount 'schoolroom' type pencil sharpener dating to the 1920s to 1930s. 

Next, I discovered a notation on the bottom of a kitchen drawer that read, "Fixed this, June 1936".

(She did a pretty good job, considering the repair lasted about 60 years, before we had to do it again.).

After two years of ownership, I was finding evidence of Marie everywhere, but I had nothing besides hearing her whispered name to indicate she was still present.

Would she ever show herself in a way that confirmed her ongoing existence?.

Well, she did, but not to my husband or myself. Instead, she appeared to 'Jim', a police officer moonlighting as a carpenter, whom we'd hired to replace/recreate some wood trim and re-hang a door.

Working nights in a busy precinct, 'Jim' was not a guy given to flights of fantasy; yet one day, when we arrived home, he had quite a story to share.

He told us that while on his knees installing baseboard, he'd looked up for a moment.and seen a woman dressed in 1920s attire, coming down the stairs from the second floor.

After regarding his work briefly, she vanished, making him feel he'd gotten her 'seal of approval'!.

Later, I would sense (but not see) Marie on those same stairs, when she literally passed through me as I went up and she went down.

That experience is hard to describe, except to say she felt cold and 'tingly' going thru, like a couple hundred low-voltage electrical shocks happening at once.

Our stairs are uncarpeted, so my experience definitely wasn't due to static!.

After nearly three decades in this house, we now have a collection of Marie stories, not only proving her continued existence, but establishing that she's a protective spirit, still looking after 'her' house 97 years after she purchased it.

Post from user RemonterLeTemps at at reddit.