Ghost Story #29

I moved to Asheville, NC, sight unseen, ending my 2nd stint in Austin (& then to Atlanta, why the run of A’s, I dunno) I lived a few blocks away from the police station, & in the middle of where the prostitutes worked their corners. I didn’t have a car, so I walked everywhere, past these women or at least past their pile of ciggy butts. And was nearly always approached by men in cars, mistaking me for a hooker...me, in vintage granny dresses & boy shoes or bundled in my pink motorcycle jacket, always reading a book as I walked the six or so blocks into town. 69 Elizabeth Street #3, I had ½ of the 2nd floor of this old estate house, 2 blocks up the hill. The stairway was wide & since it was once a single family home, I had 2 doors, but both were interior doors; one into the bedroom / living-room, one into the kitchen. Also an odd 2nd room off of the kitchen & a tiny shower stall bathroom.
An ex-boyfriend broke through one of my doors & through a window, at different times, both while I was home. I was more mad than scared. Every time I heard foot-fall on the stairs, worried it was him. Or there'd be no sound, but shadows of moving feet under the door. The first few times I’d steel myself & swing the door open, ready for a confrontation. Nothing. No one on the landing or stairs. No other sound except for me closing & locking the door. The shadows appeared at least twice a month.
During this time, I realized how many horror books & videos that I owned, along with the wall-to-wall skull art, I got rid of it all, feeling like I was drawing this negative energy to myself. After 2 years, 
I moved. Of course the next house had ghosts, too.