I love this ghost story about the Gray Man at the Chelsea Hotel. Excerpt:

I hadn’t heard anything outside of the traffic down on 23rd Street and the occasional jet engine, and when I asked her what it was she said “I keep hearing a man’s voice saying ‘jump, go on jump. You’ll be fine, just go ahead and jump” and explained to me that a bizarre and inexplicable urge to jump off the roof of the Chelsea Hotel had entered her mind and would not be shaken. She asked that we move away from the edge of the roof where we had been perched, which is when we saw it.

A few yards away, half obscured by a chimney stack was the darkened silhouette of a man, watching us from an inkwell of a corner. It could have been my eyes playing tricks on my mind and I tried to convince myself this was the case. That is up until it moved, stepping back into the darkness behind it.

I can’t help it; I believe in ghosts. Yes, I’m an avowed atheist. I realize this is the dumbest thing (among the many other dumb things) I’ve admitted on this blog, but I believe in…something. My feeble rationale is that there must be some kind of…residual…um…energy? Like static electricity perhaps?

I once argued about it for three hours with my boyfriend at the time. I think I watched too much In Search Of as a kid.

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