This is the basement where I work part time. There’s a very old printing press from a long gone newspaper. Some folks I work with won’t go down there.. down the old wooden ramp that used to carry horse drawn carts. Supposedly a man died there, operating the old press. He haunts the dilapidated apparatus in his withered overalls, dead blow hammer standing by to set in motion the gears. One employee blared a blood curdling scream after she saw him as he brushed past her shoulder. Harmless? Vivid imagination? Who knows..
