Ghost story
When I was in my twenties, I moved to the top floor of an old and prestigious house on the edge of Karhupuisto. There was only an attic above my apartment. The bedroom had a separate, unused front door to the stairwell. Almost every morning at 4:25 a.m. I was woken up by a strange sound. From the attic floor above me, someone would start hopping down the stairwell on even legs: five, four, three, two floors, all the way to the lobby. No door opened anywhere, neither in the attic above nor in the lobby below. No mail hatch opened anywhere, not on any floor. In my fear, I peeked through the closed front door into the hallway, but there was no light there, only a steady thud
As is my custom, I was newly in love at the time and demanded that my new girlfriend (who didn't believe in ghosts) prove the strange problem that was keeping me awake. I kept her awake forcibly, and just as she was about to fall asleep, the chilling sound of bouncing woke her up. However, she didn't react at all as I had thought, but mumbled, "It's the mailman," and fell asleep. Of course, there wasn't a mailman there. The second time, my skeptical sister received the same call from me, but this time I had to wake her up from a fairly deep sleep when the noise started. Although my sister is a reasonable person, she is still persuasive, and she understood the seriousness of the matter immediately. She got up, sleepily dazed, to watch the hallway from the mailbox, and then looked at me in disbelief. We didn't sleep again that night.
A few days later, my sister called me and told me she had a dream. In the dream, she is standing in the downstairs hall of my house. Our mutual, deceased friend jumps in. My sister tries to get our friend out of the house, but the friend doesn't say anything or move. We don't remember if she's crying, if she even makes a sound like that. My sister opens the front door and tries again, but to no avail. My sister has to leave and our friend is left alone.
Soon after, I found out that the house was our friend's last address. I moved out a few months later, a couple of blocks away for love, and broke my heart again at the new address. I forgot about our friend there; after being recognized, he stopped making noise every single night and my attention was alive again.
I have lived in seven different houses in Kallio. I have taken my first steps in them, I have learned to speak and write, I have fallen in love and divorced, I have been in need and needed help. I have been alone a lot and yet someone has always been there for me. It is difficult to be selfish in Kallio. You can try, but you will definitely have to face that side of yourself. The part of town is full of ghosts and I have often had to witness their presence. My sister says that it is because they only appear to those who want to see them. I think that you can prove their existence when you are ready to help, but then you must not forget or become selfish. When I was thinking about what I would like to write about this place, I suddenly remembered all the ghosts of Kallio and of course our deceased friend. I should go and help him out at last. I had forgotten him, and no one should be left here alone.
Amanda Palo is a writer, gallerist, performance artist and native of Kallio.