Ghost Story

Ghost Story





Getting into the spirit of things, I thought it would be fun to write about something that I consider a real spooky story from my life. Ghost stories are always my favorite reading, so it just stands to reason that I should write one. I don’t have anything as great as the, Bell Ghost of Tennessee, but, hear is my story:

A long time ago, somewhere in suburban America, this happened, not to me but to people I know. I will not tell there names or actual places on here for reasons that will be obvious to you when you read this.

I was 5 years old at this time, and I spent a lot of time at my grandparent’s house. That was my mother's parents.

A family of 5 had moved in next door to them that year. Nobody had gotten to know them. They kept to them selves and never came out to visit over the fence or exchange greetings, and the kids mostly stayed inside, not unusual now, but back then it was quit strange indeed for children to be indoors all the time.

That winter in December, the family just seemed to vanish. No one knew if they had kin folk near or not, because no one had gotten to know them. They never said where they were from or talked about family.

Being the nosy people that we are, adults and children alike, we looked in every window of that house that we could reach after they disappeared. Not much to see with all the curtains drawn.

Everyone was figuring, that they probably left in a quick huff and were getting a divorce.
(We were not only nosy, but gossips too!)

Sometime after Christmas when the family still had not appeared, my mother, my aunt (who is my father's sister) and the woman across the street on the corner got together and hatched a plot, (as Lucy would say) to wait until after dark and break into the house from the back and grab as much clothes as they could carry.

After all, there was no use wasting good clothes if the family was not coming back.

There were three children in my family. I have one brother and one sister, my aunt had six, and the woman across the street had nine, so no matter what size the cloths were, they were going to fit somebody.

So as soon as it was dark, the three stealthy cat burglars, dressed in dark cloths, hopped the fence and crept swiftly to the back where they broke a window and unlocked the door. They did not carry flash lights, so they would not attract the attention of other neighbors with lights shinning from inside the house. They carried only empty bags to haul home there ill gotten booty.

The first thing they noticed upon entry, was that the Christmas tree was still standing in the front room with all the unopened presents still under it, as if it were Christmas Eve, and at any moment, the children would wake up and run to open there presents that Santa had left them.

It was dark, with only the moon illuminating the interior through the windows, but it was enough light for them to see to get around the house, so off they went toward the center where the stairway was, and up to where the bedrooms were. In the darkness, they could see piles of cloths on the floor everywhere, like someone had just thrown everything out of dressers and closets on the floor in preparation of a hasty and disorderly departure, and then just left them there.

As there eyes adjusted to the dim light, they moved swift and silently, as if making a noise might awaken some unseen person. They crammed the cloths into there bags as fast at they could in the dark, feeling an urgency to get out of the house quickly.

The soft sound of a door opening and closing, stopped them in there tracks. No one moved a muscle and all three were holding there breath, “oh man, we’re busted!”

The three frightened women silently inched their way to the top of the steps where they had a clear view of the floor below. They stood motionless; holding on to each other, hoping the person would just leave, but ready to take flight at the first sight if they didn’t.

As they stood there, they heard foot steps walking toward them. The clear and unmistakable clacking sound of high heels shoes echoed throughout the house. The trio of not so courageous cat burglars, stood at the top of the stairs unmoving and silent. They could not tear there eyes away from bottom landing, waiting to see who would round the corner.

The hair on there arms stood on end, as each of them could hear there heart beat in there ears like thunder. Their nerves were electrified, and senses heightened so that every sound was magnified by 100 times.

Foot steps came closer, rounding the corner below. A bunch of clothing is not worth going to jail over, and each one was dreading the moment of truth that was about to appear. Another possibility occurred to them at that moment; it could be another burglar?

Then the footsteps stopped, directly in there line of vision, and all three wide eyed and terrified looked on in horror at nothing.

There was no one there! There was no one standing there at all.

The spell was broken and they were so frightened that they grabbed there bags, and ran from the house as fast as they could. There feet barely touching the floor, down the stairs, through the house exploding out the back door, and into the night. Across the street they ran bags of cloths in arms, and into the neighbor lady's house.

Nobody talked for a long time. They just looked at each other and let there minds try to process everything.

In the neighbor’s living room, they dumped their bags in the middle of the floor so that they could divide up the plunder between them, but they were horrified at the sight before them. All the cloths were soaked in blood, and had dried that way. Piles of blood soaked cloths! Winter coats were among the loot. Who in this great white northern region takes flight at this blustery time of year, without there coats?

Can't tell the cops because they will go to jail for breaking and entering! Way to scared to try to take the cloths back inside the house because of the invisible presents in heals patrolling the downstairs! What The Hell Was That Anyway?

The frightened, and jumpy housebreakers, decided with very little discussion, to have a bomb fire that night. So three young mothers stood reverently around the fire in the back yard, and burned the bloody clothes, without pomp or ceremony. Over time they talked about it at length, and over the years to come, much wild speculation was tossed back and forth.

That family that lived next door to my grandparents never did reappear. A year later someone from out west knocked on my grandparent’s door and inquired about the woman who uses to live at that address. It was a relative of hers, who had lost touch over the years. My grandma told the person that she hadn’t seen them in over a year. To our knowledge, that was the only time anyone ever inquired about anyone or anything to do with that family.

We, as children with great imaginations and good story telling abilities, surmised that the father murdered the whole family, and sense it was the dead of winter, and the ground was frozen solid, he buried them under the house which was the only ground that was not frozen.

We would dare each other to go up on the porch and look in the window or look under the house. I crawled under the house once. There was a cat or something (didn't stick around to see what) digging and throwing sand and I almost killed myself trying to get out by high speed crawling. I never went under there again. EEEEE!

That house had many many families live there over the years, but ultimately, it was empty a lot. No one ever lived there very long. I think it was an unhappy place that held the tortured memories of spirits who have a story to tell of murder, hate and fear.

Who was at the bottom of the stairs that night?

It made for a great haunted house in the neighborhood.

I have not seen that house in 30 some years now and don't even know if it still stands.

I am 51 years old and I still think that man killed his family, then disappeared into the night and got away with it; and maybe, just maybe, he went somewhere else and did it again. Could have been your neighborhood.