Philbert the Pizza Place Ghost

A few years back, while working at a pizza place, I experienced a series of unsettling events that led me to believe the place was haunted. My memory is hazy, so consider this a collection of disjointed highlights rather than a complete narrative.

It all started subtly: objects being thrown, items disappearing. I initially dismissed it, but then I noticed the footprints. Bare footprints, around size 10 1/2, appeared on the greasy kitchen tiles, leading from the fryer through the storage area to the drive-through window. Logic dictated it couldn't be any of the employees, including our coworker with schizophrenia. We even compared footprints, but none matched. Over time, the prints would mysteriously fade away.

Throughout this period, I felt a strange connection to the unseen presence, sensing its name was Philbert. I don't claim to be psychic, but perhaps I'm sensitive to the paranormal. Other occurrences included unexplained fogging on the drive-through window and a window mysteriously broken from the inside after closing. While I found it intriguing, my boyfriend, a staunch non-believer in ghosts, was terrified.

As time passed, I began interacting with the entity, asking questions and requesting actions. Once, during a playful moment with coworkers, I challenged Philbert to move a large map of the delivery area. To our surprise, it slowly shifted, despite my boyfriend's insistence it was just the air vent. These interactions became commonplace, with thrown objects met with playful reprimands of "Be quiet, Philbert." I never sensed malice, only a desire for attention and acknowledgment.

One night, perhaps foolishly, I invited Philbert home with us. I felt sympathy for his loneliness and offered him a place in our lives. Later that night, as I waited in the car for my boyfriend, I heard a metallic clinking on the door handle and rustling in the backseat. It dawned on me that Philbert might have accepted my invitation. My boyfriend, initially skeptical, soon witnessed strange occurrences at home: electronics turning on, objects vanishing from the bed, and a PlayStation controller activating the console from a distance.

Over time, the activity became so routine that it faded into the background of our lives. I stopped actively interacting with Philbert, and the experiences became less frequent. Recently, however, things have taken a different turn. My boyfriend and I have been getting random scratches, and I experience nightly headaches around midnight. I don't feel threatened, just a sense that Philbert craves attention once again.

As we prepare to move, I wonder if Philbert will follow us to our new home. Only time will tell if our spectral roommate will remain a part of our lives.