Chasing Seagulls

{March 21, 2009}   Ghost Story

Okay, so here’s my ghost story.

I was about five years old when we moved into a house that my stepdad’s parents had just moved out of. I don’t remember a lot from that time except for the weird shit that went on in that house. Coincidentally, I was living there when I first saw Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” video. It wasn’t the best setting to see something that was kind of scary to a five year old.

I think the first thing that everyone noticed was the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the attic. My grandmother kept insisting it was squirrels, but if that was the case, they were some big-ass squirrels. These were obviously the sounds of a man wearing boots walking up and down the attic floor. My parents got a little history from someone; my stepdad’s mom, I think. The story went that a man had lived in the house with his family and his wife decided to leave him and take the children. He was so distraught that he hung himself in the attic.

My brother and I were eating breakfast in the kitchen with my mother one morning when we heard the sound begin. This was the only time I remember hearing it during the day. I said, “Mama, that man’s walking again,” to which my mother promptly said, “Shut up.”

My mother saw something one night that was unrelated to the man, so I can’t explain the why of it. She said she was sitting in the living room with a friend of the family when she looked into the hallway leading to the front door to see a little girl standing there. She said, “—-, go back to bed.” She thought it was me. The friend said, “That’s not —-.” She then walked into my bedroom to check, and I was asleep. When she came back, the little girl was gone. That hallway was always cold, no matter what time of year it was.

One night, I was in bed sick. I felt like I was going to vomit, so I got up to go to the bathroom. When I tried to open my bedroom door, it wouldn’t open. I twisted the knob back and forth and pulled as hard as I could, but it wouldn’t budge. I finally vomited on the floor. My mother came to the door and opened it with no problem to ask me what happened. I told her I couldn’t get the door open. There was no way to lock the door, so I don’t know what kept me from opening it. I’ve always felt that it was something sinister.

My brother, who was about three years old at the time, had a “bad dream” one night, in which he said he saw the shadow of a man leaning over his bed. He had a crocheted football my grandmother had made for him that he threw at the shadow on the wall. When he did this, he said the shadow darted away. So, to make him feel better, my mother pulled the mattress off my bed and brought it into the living room. When she turned the light off, I was looking into the kitchen and saw a man standing in the doorway. My mother told me that I cried out, “I see him, I see him!!” But I don’t remember that, I only remember seeing the man standing there and then he was gone again when she turned the light back on. I turned over and did not look back towards the kitchen when she turned the light off again.

It wasn’t the last time I saw him. One of the scariest things that ever happened to me was the night that our dog, Cricket, had gotten free from the enclosed back porch where we kept her at night. She came running into my room and jumped on the bed, scaring the shit out of me. I started talking to her out loud to calm myself and went to my mother’s room to tell her the dog was loose. My room was adjacent to the kitchen, so I had to walk a little ways through the kitchen and across the living room to get to my mom’s room. I woke her up and told her Cricket was loose. She told me to put her back up. I said, “I can’t. It’s dark.” She didn’t reply and wouldn’t wake back up. I decided I would just let Cricket sleep with me and I started back to my room. About halfway across the living room, I stopped. The man was standing in the kitchen doorway. I just stared at him. He was of average height, but I couldn’t make out any features. I just saw the form of a man. He wasn’t solid, either, because I could see the shape of the kitchen table behind him. I didn’t know what to do. He was in the way of my bedroom. I don’t know how long I stood there, but it wasn’t long. Then I just broke and ran towards him, keeping to the far side of the door. This may sound stupid, but I think he stepped aside for me. I ran into my room, jumped in my bed, and hid with Cricket under the blankets. I didn’t come out until morning.

I think the ghost of the man wasn’t related to either the little girl and the cold hallway or the incident with the door that wouldn’t open. I do believe he was the one who visited my brother that night. I didn’t get any sense of evil from him when I faced him in the doorway. So I think that he was drawn to my brother and I because we were small children and he missed his own. Whatever the case, he was scary to live with, so we moved shortly afterwards to a house up the street. Occasionally, I would have to pass the house, which always seemed eerier when it was from the back.

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