I work for a large not-for-profit in the Washington D.C. area. The office is a large manor house that sits on a lovely suburban hillside. Originally, the building was the home of one the founders of a major department store chain in D.C., and, then, for many years, it was government property, and was used as a "safe house" for secret Allied visitors during WWII. Eventually, the government sold the property, and it was used as a nursing home until my employers purchased the estate about 30 years ago.

When I came to the company, my office on the third floor was called "The Ghost Room." I was amused and thought nothing of it. However, after my first late night alone in the office, I changed my mind.

I was stuck in the office pulling an all-nighter, writing a grant on a Friday night. It was summer, there was no breeze, and all the windows were closed. At about 1 a.m., I started to hear the slamming of doors in distant parts of the building. As I knew I was the only authorized person in the building, I started to quietly panic. I cautiously opened my office door and called out. No one answered, but I heard the sound of a door near my office slam. I went out, umbrella in hand, and searched, but I found no one.

I returned to my office, leaving the door open. That's when I heard the shuffling feet. The sound had a doppler-type effect, the shuffling getting louder as it approached my door, and then fading down the hallway. My heartrate was soaring. I started to gather my papers together, and, to keep me company while I packed up to go, I called one of my sisters in New Jersey (who has had experiences with paranormal phenomena) and kept her on the speaker phone. I told her about the slamming doors, and, as I did so, the office door next to me slammed shut; my sister heard it over the phone. I decided it was time to go, and headed for the door, but, as I left my office, I heard a woman's laughter from the ceiling.

On the following Monday, I sheepishly told our receptionist about my experiences, thinking that I was just having late night heebie-jeebies. She looked at me quite seriously, and called another employee down to hear my story. That employee just nodded her head, and said, "Yep. The shuffling feet. Just like big, scuffy slippers, right?" I discovered that other people in the building had had the same experiences in the same areas. Other people had seen a woman's face in the kitchen window on the third floor, and folks who brought their kids in with them to work on the weekends sometimes reported their small children talking to an invisible woman in the third floor conference room.

One former employee even quit after the photos on his walls kept appearing neatly ordered on his office floor every morning.

My skeptical ex-roommate even had an experience that kept him out of the office for good. On another late night foray, he sat in my office while I was on another floor, making copies. I heard him yell, "Dammit, that's not funny!" I came running up to find him all pale and freaked out. He thought I'd played a joke on him by sticking my head in the office door, calling his name, and then running. I hadn't. We left.

Since then, I, too, have joined the ranks of those who have heard the woman call their names. That was wild. Of late, however, I have been avoiding the office at night (more because of security issues than the poltergeist), but I understand from my colleagues who now occupy the Ghost Room that the very sticky door to the attic has taken to the nasty habit of slamming open occasionally, which is interesting because it takes a pretty strong human to pry it open on a good day.

I don't know if my office is haunted by some deceased patient at the nursing home or not, but I'm pretty sure there's something other than our staff members occupying this building.

For what it's worth, there it is.

Melissa R. Jordan