Where in the world is Kelly?

It is 11:16 p.m. on a Friday night. This evening I went with Caitlin and some of the teachers at her school to have dinner and see some cultural happenings in alun-alun, the main park in the city. We got back not too long ago and I was looking forward to a nice shower and getting some rest. But since shortly after we walked in the door until now I am pumped up on adrenaline. Here’s what happened….

We were dropped off outside our front gate. Caitlin and I take turns with the arduous task of opening the front doors; there are three locks plus a bolt latch keeping our house safe from intruders. The doors were locked, as per usual, and Caitlin called dibs on using the shower first. Though our house has three bathrooms, we only use one for, umm, bathroom purposes. The second one has a Blessed Laundry Machine, and the third one is attached to the creepy bedroom that we don’t use for anything.

While Caitlin was taking a shower, I was laying in my bed (as I am now) drafting an email to my parents. I was typing away when I heard her say from outside my door, “Kelly, could you come with me for a minute?” Something in the tone of her voice was off, conveying the unmistakable message that something was amiss.

“Do you hear that?” she gestured to closed door of the unused bedroom. We paused. Water was running in the attached bathroom. It sounded like someone was taking a shower using the shower head, but the two occupants of the house were very much NOT showering at that moment. Which left only a couple of options:

1. Someone was in our house.
2. The water somehow turned itself on through some technical miracle that somehow left the other faucets untouched.
3. It was a ghost, of which there are many in Indonesia I was told just this afternoon.

Somewhat expecting the first possibility, we prepared ourselves battle. Caitlin grabbed a pot and I took the wok, which would give anyone a mighty whack to the head that would leave a nice bruise. I also grabbed our ant spray, which has an excellent trajectory and I believe would be a fine substitute for mace. Thusly armed — I clad in only a sports bra and boxer shorts — we creaked open the door to the bedroom.

The bedroom was dark. No light came out of the slats in the bathroom door. But the water kept running. Whoever (or whatever) was in there carried on with its ritual in the dark. I flicked the light switches on and called out what I hoped was an authoritative “Hello?”

…And the water stopped.

At that, we retreated. “Call Ari. Now,” Caitlin instructed. I didn’t need to be told twice. Ari is our friend, a teacher at my school, and is our go-to guy for all things house-related. I called his phone (both of them) to no avail. It being so late I wondered if we would even be able to get ahold of anyone. I tried Pak Alex next. He is a fellow English teacher at my school and is in charge of English club. I had lunch with him and his family in their home today, so I know that his house is just around the corner.

I called, and mercifully he answered after a few rings. I explained the situation, and after he also tried to reach Ari he agreed to come over and investigate. I huddled near Caitlin in her room while we waited. When he arrived with his wife in tow, I greeted them at the door still carrying my weapons of choice and wearing more clothes plus an apologetic smile.

They laughed when I motioned by bludgeoning technique with the wok. We led them to the bedroom, unlocking doors as we went. Once the bedroom door was open (the water still hadn’t turned back on) Pak Alex strode in and opened the bathroom door with no hesitation. He poked his head in, gave the room a quick once-over, and walked back to the kitchen apparently satified.

He explained something about the water pump, and that when the water tank is full the pump can cause the faucets to flood. A plausible story, but I am skeptical because: why weren’t the other faucets running too? And why did it suddently stop when I verbally acknowleged it? And why hasn’t this already happened? And the faucets in that bathroom were off when I walked in, so how would the water have gotten through a closed faucet?

All of these factors make me take a closer look at possibility #3. The jury’s still out on whether or not ghosts are real, but today I did get some possible evidence in favor of this theory. Fingers crossed that no more evidence (one way or another) comes my way here.