Stagecoach Inn Ghost

This was about ten years ago. I was about 12 years old when I went to spend time at my great uncles house in California. I really liked his house because it is a huge old stagecoach inn. There was just a lot of neat old things for a kid to explore and look around at.

Unlike most kids I didn't believe in ghosts. I thought that anything my older cousins told me was a lie and that they were just trying to scare me, (I was the kid that wanted to a Palaeontologist when I was 5). It was one of those houses that almost always had people in it, but in reality only my great uncle and grandma lived there. I was going to stay there for a whole month, (obviously excited I got to be away and "on my own". Have my own room upstairs with a big bed and windows.)

First night nothing happened. Second night I heard footsteps going up the stairs, and I called down and asked who was there. No one answered I went down stairs where my cousins were playing cards with my uncle and asked who went upstairs and they said no one, (I called them liars and went back to bed). I couldn't get back to sleep so I turned on a lamp and started to read a book, but at 10pm the light turned off. Annoyed I got up and turned it on again, it turned off right as I got into bed. Cursing the faulty wiring of the house I got my flashlight, which lasted a whole 30 seconds. I gave up and eventually fell asleep. Every night after that the lights refused to stay on past 10pm in my room. For the most part it just annoyed me; I thought that everyone was playing a big joke on me.

Two weeks into my stay I woke up in the middle of the night. I remember it was 3am because I was facing the digital clock. I didn't know what had woken me up, but as I laid there I heard someone walk up the stairs. When it hit the top of the stairs it stopped. A few moments later I felt someone sit down on the bed with me. I was terrified, and I didn't know why. Eventually I looked over my shoulder and there was nothing there, but I still felt like there was something watching me. I went down stairs and slept on the couch. I know for a fact that no one could have gone up those stairs because my grandmother and uncle were the only ones in the house with me and they are both handicapped and can't go up the stairs.

The reason I was so determined to prove to my cousins and family that there wasn't anything in the house was because despite the houses history I wouldn't be bothered.

For those curious about the house history. The house is in Placerville or "Old Hangman Town." The Inn was last stop several people made before they were executed.