My childhood was spent moving from house to house as my parents struggled to find a home they could afford. This meant changing schools often and friends as well. But the one thing most of these houses had in common were the ghosts and the fact that most of them scared the crap out of me.
Every house had its own unique ghost. Once we lived on a race track grounds. Our introduction to the ghost of this house was when we moved in. One we were settled all the kids went into my oldest brothers’ room to throw darts. My brother had hung the dart board on a door in his room. Little did the rest of us know that the door let to the attic. As we took turn throwing the darts, the darts in turn flew backwards out of the dart board and toward us. Being kids, we thought this was the coolest thing until we discovered why this might be happening. Apparently a man had hung himself on the stairway of the attic just behind that door. Night after night this lost soul clomped up and down the stairs sending chills up my spine while fear paralyzed me. I would draw my body close, tightening all my muscles and was unable to move. Could I have moved I would have crawled under my bed to hide from this ghost I was sure was going to stop walking up and down the stairs all night and instead turn into my room and get me. Instead I stayed in my bed, eyes the size of dinner plates and my ears working overtime trying to hear if his walking pattern might have changed and he was indeed coming for me.
I will fill you in on other stories a little at a time as there are so many. For right now I am thrilled that my current house doesn't have stairs and my current ghost does not make me crap my pants. Perhaps it is because I am much older now, had so many experiences or maybe this one is just not that scary. *Happy dance*