My mom lived near Wood and Armitage Sts. in Chicago in the '40s. Her family lived in a third floor apartment, in the front half of a large attic.

My uncle used to work nights and come up the 3 flights of stairs to their apartment. As he neared the attic level he heard footsteps behind him. He called out to see who it was. There was no answer, but a white figure passed beside him and sailed into the dark attic.

He said he felt a cold gust of air as the figure passed. He was upset by the incident and told my mom and grandmother in the morning.

My grandmother laughed and told him he was just imagining things or was tired. But days later it happened to the landlord. He said he heard the footsteps and called my grandmother's name, thinking she may have gone to the basement shed for something. No answer. The same figure and gust of cool air passed him.

He didn't tell anyone until my grandmother mentioned it--then he told of the same experience and she realized my uncle was telling the truth.

Later they heard that a former owner of the building, a woman, committed suicide in the attic.

This was a much requested story by my friends on Halloween. I do know that when I brought the subject up, my usually jovial uncle would get very sad and quiet and change the subject.