I am skeptical of the supernatural, ghosts generally, ghost arthropods particularly, and this ghost cricket specifically. That may be due to an unreasonable expectation of mine. The octogenarian down the street from us had lots of ghosts and is forever telling me tales of their doings. Their usual habit is to leave messages with her to pass along to her children, grandchildren other relatives. (None for me so far.) These messages most often take the form of information no one could possibly have excepting the person whom the ghost claimed to be; i.e., Molly had a puppy named skittles when she was a child. or You always did enjoyed Miltie’s sense of humor. My ghost cricket never passed along such circuitously accurate bits of trivia. It only chirps.
It could just be that ghost crickets are more partial to the habits of crickets then to the habits of ghosts. I have evidence pro, con and meh* for this hypothesis.
On the plus side I have:
- His chirp is identifiable not only as a courting call, but to which one of the three types of crickets that frequent my home.
- It rarely chirped when I was searching for it.
- The nearly impossible to pin point song.
- An ability to remain unseen.
On the con side I have:
- His unseasonable, Winter presents: our regular complement of crickets won’t make a showing till June.
- Its disinclination to depart a location: It resides in a plate sized area about two feet down from my head board on the wall side of the bed frame. A location in which there was clearly no cricket.
- It could distinguish verso from recto.
- An eerie ability to remain unseen.
On the meh side I have:
- He only chirped when I was near or in the bed.
- He’d chirp if I were approaching from the door side of the bed.
- He’d chirp while I read laying down.
- He’d not chirp while I read sitting up.
Getting back to my story, I applied my skepticism and started an investigation. Ah, not so much an investigation as a gathering of the occasional, casual observation, some of the results preceding. The chance observation that finally tipped the cart was the cricket chirping most often when I was reading an even number page of a heavy book. That would put my back to the cricket and, more importantly, some of the weight of the book against my night table. The counter force pushed my mattress ever so slightly the other way invoking the spirit of the ghost cricket.
I’ve since learned to invoke his spirit at will with an undetectable push of my knee while standing next to my bed. I have a pair younger siblings, 5 & 7, who will spend the next few years looking for my ghost cricket before going off to bed themselves. And it will remain a ghost until they find it.
*Either way might be a cricket thing might be a ghost thing.
Genesis 2
17 But of the ponderosa pine, thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day that thou shinniest thereof thou shalt sorely learn of thy nakedness.
18 And we all live happily ever after.
™ Version 4.2
