THE GHOST OF HANGAR 10 In 1997 I had just graduated from collage and was offered a job with an aircraft company working in an old rundown hanger. I was told that it would not be glamorous and that the office was far from state-of-the-art but the work was easy and I could use my spare time writing. I thought about it and decided that it might not be so bad after all who else was going to hire me for that kind of money just out of collage. Archaic would have been a compliment to this old WW11 hanger that I work in, on one end there is an aging DC-3 gathering dust waiting for the local museum to allocate the funds to have it transported to their building, and in the other end of the hanger we keep the company aircraft for us to work on and for storage. The hangar doors have many of the original panes of glass that were installed when the hangar was first built and it is not unusual for us to return to work and find one or two panes have fallen out and shattered on the hangar floor we have even had a wing of one of the planes damaged from the falling glass. The office is an old parts storage area that had been gutted out and was equipped with three desks and a computer, in the middle of the west wall is an old rusty garage door that when you can get it open leads to the hanger, the most I can ever get it to open is about three feet. My job is to make sure that the GPS systems in the aircraft are up to date and to make sure that Logbooks are kept current. Most of my work us done from the office and I only spend a few hours a day out in the hangar. One day Jon a Native American that we have working with us came in and asked “So Annie have you ran into anything weird around here yet?” “No,” I said “but sometimes after you guys leave at night I have to go through and close some of the airplane doors and some one left the Bat. switch and rotating beacon on in 52LT the other night.” “Not one of my guys.” He said with a laugh and walked out of the office. I had heard some of the guys mumbling about a ghost in the hangar but I have always laughed those things off. It was not unusual for me to be alone in the hangar after dark and often times I hear noises that sound like one of the guys yelling to some one but I use to chalk it up to the birds that have made there home in the hangar. One night as I was trying to down load an update off the Internet I felt as though some one was in the office with me I heard footsteps walk across the room and could actually feel the temperature drop as if some one had opened the door. “Did you forget your house key Jon?” I asked as I looked over my shoulder. There was no one there but I could have sworn that I heard footsteps in the office and I felt like some one was watching me. I gave up on the down load and decided I would return the next day even though it was the weekend and work while it was day light. The next morning I was awoken by the loud shilling ring of my telephone. “Hello” I answered in a sleepy voice. “Annie Girl did I wake you?” It was my Grandfather voice on the other end with back ground noise of a pay phone. “That’s Okay I need to get up anyway.” I said as I sat up in bed rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “What’s up.” “Grandma and I just got in town and wanted to know if you wanted to meet us for lunch?” I looked over at the clock and could not believe it was already noon. “I have to run out to the airport and do a down load for a GPS but after that I can.” I spoke into the phone as I slipped on a pair of jeans and searched for a T-shirt to wear. “Why don't you meet me there. I'll be at hangar 10.” My Granddad and old aviation man himself told me he knew right were it was, back in the old DC-3 days he use to work in that old hangar himself. Well in the daylight my office seemed down right homey I chastised myself for being such a chicken and letting rumors get the best of me. I finished the down load and walked out into the parking lot just as my Grandparents drove up. “Why don't I show you around?” I suggested to my Granddad. “Let you see if it has changed much since your day.” I showed them the side of the hangar we keep our airplanes on then we went into the north side where the DC-3 is being stored. “I can't believe this old thing is still here,” my Granddad gasped “My best friend Patty O’Shay use to fly this, after W.W. twice we both got jobs here when we came back.” “The museum bought it and they are trying to raise funds to have it shipped piece by piece there.” I told him. “Poor old Patty was killed by that airplane.” Granddad said. “One morning they had just gotten back from a long flight and as Patty was checking the prop for a bird strike one of the line boys tugs got away from him and crushed poor Patty up against the plane he was dead before we could get him help.” “You know,” my Grandmother said, “you look a lot like poor Maggie May, Patty’s wife. Don't you thinks so Papa?” “She sure does, and you should take that as a compliment Maggie May was one the most sought after girls from our home town.” He smiled at my Grandma. “I mean she was the second most sought after girl, she couldn't hold a candle next to your Grandma. Grandma blushed and winked at my Granddad. The weekend went by to fast and before I knew it Monday morning was already here. I spent my day finishing up some paper work and doing research on some A.D.s we had been sent. Before I knew it the line guys were coming in to clock out for the day. I still had a few hours of work left and decided that I would work late so I could take off early on Friday. I continued to work and soon lost track of time. As I concentrated on the work before me I again heard the footsteps in the office and the temperature dropped just like on Friday. My ghost was back. A chill ran up my spine as I felt my hair being gently lifted and swept back as if someone wanted to get a good look at me. My heart was beating a so hard and fast I think I almost passed out from fright. Then I remembered reading somewhere that if you told a spirit to leave you alone they had to. “I don't know who you are,” I said in a loud forceful voice, “but I want you to leave me alone you can have the hangar but stay out of my office.” With that the room warmed up and I heard the out door of my office slam shut. “Don't go away mad,” I mumbled to myself, “just go away.” I grabbed my bag and headed for the door as I pushed to open it the door stuck tight my ghost had locked me in with the pad lock that we used to secure the office. “Very Funny,” I said very loudly as I walked back into the office and tried to lift the garage door on the west wall. I was able to get it opened about three feet and brace it with a “chalk” which is a piece of wood we put against airplane tires to keep them from rolling on windy days as a safeguard just incase the brakes are not set. I threw my bag under the door and crawled my way to freedom. Standing up I dusted the cobwebs out of my hair and off of my jeans I could hear my new friend laughing heartily at me. “HA HA” I said in to the empty hangar then realized that I had left my car keys and cell phone on my desk so I had to crawl back under the door and get them then crawl under again each time getting dirtier and dustier. By the time I finally left he was laughing so hard it seemed that the walls were shaking. Funny thing is I was kind of laughing at myself also, and had long forgotten to be scared. For the next few weeks nothing but the occasional noises in the hangar went on and then one night I was closing everything up trying to get out of the hangar before the storm that had been dancing on the horizon moved in. I went out in the hangar and noticed that someone had left one of the panels of the hangar door open after they had brought in the last airplane. I walked outside to push it closed just as large drops of rain began to fall from the sky and the wind began to pick up. I slipped into the hangar just as the door slid closed and started to bend down to grab my bag when I heard. “Maggie watch out!!!” and I felt as if I had been tackled I flew backwards hitting my head on the wing of a plane. The last thing I remembered was a cold hand caressing my forehead and what could have been a kiss on my cheek. When I came to an old security guard was calling for an ambulance, I looked over to were my bag was and it was covered with shards of sharp glass. I suffered a concussion and a few bruises around my ribs that looked like I had been tackled but I know it could have been a lot worse if my friend I now call Patty would not have been looking out for me. When I got back to work a week later I opened my office door after everyone had left and yelled out into the hangar “Hey Patty your welcomed to haunt my office anytime.” Every now and then I feel him come in and watch me, it doesn't creep me out the way it once did and I even feel a little safer now when I have to work late. Contact me here: mystery1313@hotmail.com Submitted From: Annie, OK, USA