“What’s the bravest / scariest thing you’ve ever done?”
I avoid scary things at all costs. So, what could I write about? Having children and parenting? Leaving home? Taking a first job? Getting married. Coping with the early loss of my mother? It seems to me that every single thing with do in this life does require a certain amount of courage and bravery, and of course that could be very scary because we don’t know for certain how things will turn out. That being said, there is one kind of unusual thing that I might talk about. It was horribly scary to me, although not everyone would be frightened in my situation, and it required great bravery for me to endure it. Truly, I hesitate to say much about it because some people won’t believe me, but here goes anyway.
One summer my sister came from Alaska to visit for a while. We really did have fun that summer. We went places together, cooked together, took the grandchildren on outings, and talked to our heart’s content. However, I’m a person who needs a little quiet time to recharge so I was glad at the end of the day to go into my bedroom, shut the door, and have a little downtime. It was a hot summer that year, but when I closed the door behind me at night everything was cool, quiet, and calming. It recharged me for the next day’s activities. Gradually, though, and I don’t know when it began, it wasn’t as satisfying to have my alone time every night. I started staying awake later watching TV with my sister who was a night owl for sure. Well, one night I hopped into bed, and I realized something. The room was freezing cold, and I was afraid.
Afraid? What of? I had no idea. I just knew that going into that room scared me, and I was always cold in there.
The summer finally ended, and my sister went back home leaving some wonderful memories behind her. I went back to work, and one night I left a magazine on a dresser in my bedroom. I woke from a lovely sleep to the sound of magazine pages turning. The room was so quiet there was no way to mistake what the noise was. A wave of dread washed over me. I kept my eyes closed because I didn’t want to know who was in there. In the morning I decided I’d just had a nightmare and thought no more about it.
Not long after this episode I woke in the night because somebody was slamming the closet door over and over. It was making enough noise to wake the dead, which is what I was afraid I might be dealing with.
Other things happened too. The drapes in the living room would move when there was no wind, air conditioning, or heat in the room. I heard footsteps walking all over the house. At times it seemed as if I could hear faraway voices. One night I was especially tired, but I couldn’t sleep because ‘they’ kept running up and down the steps. It made me so mad! I yelled to them to get quiet. “I have to work tomorrow even if you don’t.’ I head a horrible shrieking noise, and it was quiet for the rest of the night. Reluctantly, I concluded that I had ghosts in the house. Where did they come from? I still don’t know. Had they always been there? Not a clue.
Most of my family didn’t believe me, but my son who lived with me at the time did believe me. He didn’t want to believe, but the look in his eyes told me that he did. I believe he heard some things too.
So how did it turn out? The ghosts went away as abruptly as they came. It’s been many years since I saw the last of them, and believe me I don’t miss them a bit. What about you? Have you had any experiences with ghosts? Are you afraid of them?
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