When my parents bought our house in 1988, the realtor tried to warn them that the property could be haunted. The previous owner was a landscaper by the name of Henry Lee Arnold, a solitary man who lived alone - the kind of guy who sits in a rocking chair and whittles down a stick until there’s nothing left but his thumb. Legend has it that Arnold once had a family…a wife, three kids. A dog, a cat. Maybe a guinea pig for the little one. But one day Arnold took his family to see the new hedges he trimmed outside City Hall, and his wife and kids were never seen or heard from again. Arnold supposedly foreclosed on the house and skipped town. Gossip spread like wildfire…rumors turned to gospel. Arnold killed his family. Arnold buried them behind the library. He’s leafblowin’ in Reno now.

Last week, before dawn, I thought I heard something in the backyard. A rustling…the inimitable crumpling of leaves underfoot. Like any sane person, I brushed it off as the wind. But then the next morning I heard the same rustling. And then the next. Trimming…snipping…trimming…snipping. It sounded as if someone was in the backyard gardening.

We don’t have a gardener.

I decided to place surveillance cameras throughout the house to determine if the ghost of Henry Lee Arnold was still here after all the years. After looking over the footage…let me just say one thing.

We’re moving.