A poltergeist’s purpose

Gavin made his way to the espresso machine, as he did in the wee hours of every morning, and noticed the door to the cabinet above it was open. When the lights went out the night before, it was closed – he was sure of it.

Sometimes, the machine itself had shifted from the left side of the counter to the right.

Occasionally, the wooden spoon beside the stove would inexplicably find its way to the floor.

And hand towels?

They were just as likely to be hanging from a whirring ceiling fan in the den than folded neatly by the sink.

Of course, he was used to such shenanigans by now.

It can be confounding – and even unsettling – for those unfamiliar with the spirit world. But Gavin had grown accustomed to the work of the home’s poltergeist, and he had become well-acquainted with the disruptor he called “Paulie.”

“So, Paulie, why did you open the cabinet?” Gavin asked.

Paulie, whose appearance was similar to a cluster of glowing white cotton balls, rounded the hallway and entered the kitchen, hovering just a few feet from Gavin.

“Why not?” Paulie said. “That’s one of the tricks of the trade in the poltergeist game. Sometimes, you do just enough to make people wonder … make them spend some time trying to figure out how something happened and knowing that they never will. It’s a hoot.”

Poltergeists had developed a bad reputation in modern times, thanks in large part to the 1980s movies. Instead of being merely mischievous, they were portrayed as malevolent in the films.

“Look, you have to remember those Poltergeist movies were written by someone who had never encountered an actual poltergeist,” Paulie told Gavin during one of their first meetings. “We don’t attack people, and we certainly don’t kidnap them. That’s just Hollywood nonsense. That said, we have great respect for JoBeth Williams. We’ve forgiven her for taking part in the anti-poltergeist propaganda, although the one at her place likes to hide her Saturn Award from time to time.”

Once Paulie became a regular visitor, Gavin was more comfortable with their interactions – and more curious.

Gavin wondered how and why they picked certain houses, and the explanation was unexpected.

“It’s really more of a zip code and aesthetic thing than anything else,” Paulie explained. “We all get assigned territories, and once we find an area we like, we just randomly pick houses. I’m partial to garden homes, like this one … don’t really know why.  Guess I just like courtyards and patios.”

Gavin had noticed that Paulie moved things around but never made them permanently disappear. He wanted to know if – on occasion – poltergeists resorted to thievery.

“Nah, you can get in trouble with the home office for stealing stuff,” Paulie said. “Although I will admit that a few years back, I was messing around in a guy’s toolshed and he had, like, 40 hammers. I mean, who needs 40 hammers?  I took one of them and moved it to this duplex down the street, but then I realized that could get me suspended, so I put it back. I ended up shoving it between his mattress and box springs, though. Took the dude nearly two years to find it, and he still has no clue how it got there.”

Gavin examined the rest of the kitchen, peeked into the living room, and even checked the closets to see what else Paulie had been up to. On this particular morning, it appeared that the open cabinet was the only sign of poltergeist activity.

“Well, I guess we’ll do this again tomorrow.” Gavin said. “One question I’ve been meaning to ask, though … what’s the difference between a poltergeist and a regular house ghost?”

Paulie casually glided back and forth through Gavin’s translucent form.

“You’ve been haunting this place for a few months now, buddy … you tell me.”