Terrifying tales of the truly spooky
We hear lots of ghost stories this time of year. It's easy to dismiss them -- unless they happen to you.
This story is true. I know, because it happened to me.
Volume 1: The ghost in the kitchen
This happened a good 20 years ago, in a house on the beachside.
The house was only 10 or 15 years old at the time -- a younger, modern house where the paranormal would not be expected. There had been no deaths or weird things associated with the house, as far as I know.
A gentleman friend of mine (I hate the word "boyfriend" for anyone over the age of 21, and this reserved gentleman was older than me) lived in the house.
Something about that house made me feel uncomfortable, but I didn't know why. Maybe it was the dark red wall-to-wall carpeting against the stark-white plaster walls in the sparsely furnished house. Maybe it was the opaque light feeding in from the green-tinged glass-block windows in the living room.
It was a nice house, but there was something a little oppressive about it.
One evening I was there, with my friend. We were watching television, when I got up to make some tea. I walked out of the sunken living room, across the hall and into the open kitchen, from which the living room was visible, if I looked sideways. I busied myself with kettle, water, tea and tea cups.
As I prepared to pour the tea, I became aware of my friend walking up behind me. I got a glimpse of his white shirt reflecting in the kitchen window. He said nothing, but stood very close behind me. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.
This silent "game" was totally unlike him.
I felt hemmed in by his lurking behind me, sighing his breath on my neck and standing so close, as he watched my tea-making over my shoulder. I whipped around to tell him to stop it.
Nobody was there.
I quickly looked into the living room, and he sat in the recliner, feet up, watching television -- as he had been when I left him to make the tea.
No living soul was in that house but the two of us, yet I am still, to this day, certain there was another presence within inches of me that night. What its intentions were, I can't say. Maybe it intended to be friendly - humorous - and a little flirty, the impression I had when I thought it was my friend.
Maybe it intended to spook me.
My friend had to travel sometimes because of his job, and he would ask me to pick up his mail and water the potted plants on the patio while he was gone. I could have stayed at the house and walked to the beach every day.
I would stay at the house sometimes while he was there, but something was just not right. I refused to be in that house alone after that, even for an hour.
Something there might have liked to have been alone with me, though.