After my first unusual encounter at my wife’s clinic at The Foundry, I thought I had seen the last of the unexplainable. But the ancient building had other plans.
A few months later, on a day when my wife had to take care of our children, I was left alone at the clinic. The staff was busy with clients in the front rooms, leaving me to guard the fort at the front desk.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the distinct sound of one of our machines starting up in the back of the shop. It was a machine we were using for customer treatments and was not scheduled to be used.
I headed to the back of the store, expecting to find a forgetful employee or perhaps a curious customer. Instead, I found the room empty, and as soon as I got to the machine, it turned itself off. I glanced at it, saw nothing unusual, and assumed it was an electrical fault.
But as soon as I got back to the reception desk, the machine roared again. I sighed and struggled back, this time with a little more urgency, expecting to catch someone red-handed. Again, as I approached the room, the machine fell quiet.
Now a bit irritated, I went into the room to examine the machine more closely. Then I noticed something strange – the machine was unplugged. I stood there, puzzled, trying to understand how a machine that had been unplugged could turn itself on and off.
As if to answer my unspoken question, the machine suddenly began to hum again, despite being disconnected from any power source. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I watched it operate, seemingly of its own accord.
This strange dance continued for months. The machine would turn on and off, always when no one was in the room, always unpredictably. At first it was unsettling, but gradually we all got used to it. The staff even began to call it the “friendly ghost,” a strange oddity of the building that became part of our daily routine.
We never found a logical explanation for the machine's behavior. Electricians checked it, we replaced parts, but nothing could stop its impromptu performances. It was as if the ancient building itself was toying with us, reminding us of its presence in the most unexpected ways.
Posted by Conarelli
