Submitted by CosmicToast – I just moved into this old rental on the Antietam battlefield, yup, that Antietam. My buddy owns the place, and it’s got all the charm you’d expect from a house sitting on top of a literal warzone: creaky floors, random cold spots, and an energy that just feels… off.

First day in, I notice this old rocking chair shoved in the corner of the living room. Super antique-looking, like it came straight out of a museum. I didn’t want it just hanging there looking creepy, so I moved it to the other side of the room. No big deal.

Except when I came back from grabbing dinner, the damn chair was back where I found it. I stood there like, did I move it at all? But no, I knew I had.

I called my buddy, trying to sound casual, and she goes, “Oh, that’s just George.”
“Who the hell is George?” I asked.
“Oh, the ghost. Used to own the house—or maybe the land. He’s picky about his stuff.”
Picky?! Great. Now I’ve got a ghost decorator.

So I left the chair where it wanted to be and, feeling like a total idiot, muttered, “Alright, George, have it your way.” It’s weird, but the room actually felt less tense after that, like George had stopped glaring at me or something.

A couple nights later, I was watching TV when my cat, Felix, bolted upright, tail puffed out like a bottle brush. He stared at the rocking chair—which had started rocking. Slowly. By itself.

My roommate walked in right then, saw the chair moving, and shrugged. “Oh, it’s just George,” he said, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
I just stared at him. “You’re seriously cool with this?”
“As long as George doesn’t mess with my beer, we’re fine,” he said, disappearing into his room.

Felix eventually calmed down, but now I can’t unsee it. Every creak of that chair, every weird draft, I’m hyper-aware of George’s presence. I’ve never seen him, but I know he’s there, lurking in the background, keeping an eye on his stuff.

Honestly? I think I’m just gonna leave the furniture alone from now on.