Christmas time came, and Tammy and I had gone out shopping for gifts. We had a great time out shopping, and when we were done we both went back to the apartment to wrap the gifts we had bought. We spent the evening hanging out, having a good time. When we were done, we were getting ready to leave so that I could take her back to her parents house. I had been telling her about the ghostly incidents and she was a little more freaked out about coming back to the apartment, so it took her awhile to finally stay there, which she eventually did.
Just as we were about to leave, both of us standing by the door, neither of us talking, checking over our pockets and such to make sure we weren’t forgetting anything, we heard something break the silence.
Each one of the strings on my acoustic guitar were plucked, one by one, low E to high. We looked at each other, both of our faces pale, eyes wide. And then we heard my guitar slide from where it had been leaning against the wall in my bedroom onto the floor with a thud. We both walked into my bedroom and there it was, laying on the floor next to the tab book. The pick was still stuck between the three strings.
This meant only one thing… the pick had to be removed for those strings to be plucked. If it hadn’t been, those strings wouldn’t have made a sound, at least they wouldn’t have made the sound they did.
I left the guitar there on the floor and we both left. The incidents with Pink were almost over, but not quite.