The Second Worst Scare I've Ever Had

I have submitted two stories previously, about my childhood once it got 'spiced up' with events of a supernatural nature. These events have mostly taken place in Heidal, Norway. Even though I've moved a lot as a child, and do not live there now, this place is and will always be 'home' to me.

As I've so far written chronologically about these events, it is time for the third one. I would like to tell you about that time he pissed me off.

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I had by now celebrated my fourteenth birthday. It was the season where all the colors of nature are hidden beneath a layer of a white, glittering and cold substance known as snow. And let me tell you, when I say ' hidden beneath a layer', the layer is about one and a half, to two meters thick. Even up on the hillside of the mountain where my home is located, above the cold fog lingering midways through out the valley, hiding the lights beneath it from those of us who live further up, the cold snow still slightly illuminates the dark.

We also have a livingroom in the basement, which at this time was pretty much my fathers favorite hang-out spot. He'd watch movies on the tv, (which is where my interest for English was born) or make his own fishing-bates. (Flies?) The last one is what he was up to this evening.

Me and my brother had come down and watched him make one. It was hillarious at times, when father bit his lip utterly focused on those thin threads and details. Trying to get the thread through the itty-bitty eye of the needle with one terrible eye and one less terrible eye and fingers the size of the handle of a meatknife. You get why it was funny to watch. He has always had a strange, dry and funny humor, my father, and so with pretty much anything he'll say something weird. Therefore it was just fun and interesting for us kids to join him.

At some point I wanted to retreat to my own comfy bedroom, but little did I know that on my journey back upstairs, I'd gain a new experience, but this time, I'd bite back.

I made my way out of the cosy, warm livingroom, out the door. This might be a confusing explanation: There is a small square room, with no lights at all, and a door on each wall. To my left the door out, infront of me the door to a bedroom, and to my right was the door leading to the room with the staircase.

Now...the staircase is across the narrow room from the door leading in, and to this doors left is another, leading to the washingroom. That door is always open. Across from that, on the other side of the room, there's another. The door to the dark room. No lights in there either, and only cement as walls, floors and roof. That door is also too big for its frame so when opening it or closing it, you have to put some muscles into it.

I crossed the first square room, put my foot on the threshold of the other, and that is when it happened. Several heads taller than me, a black, unclear, thick shadow flew by inches from my face, from the washingroom and straight towards the dark room where it vanished.

It happened so instantly, and when it flew by, more like it glided but so incredibly fast, it gave off a slight breeze which danced across my face as I gasped for air and stumbled backwards. My heart was racing, in the backround I could hear my brother and father laugh about some joke, but it felt as if they were further away. As if what I heard was only an echo of them. It felt as though time had slowed down and I just stood there for ages, unable to make one single thought for myself, or move a muscle.

After ages yet only some twenty seconds or so, I ran up the staircase, straight into my bedroom, sat down on the edge of the foot of my bed with my feet beneath me, and as I'd always do for some reason, I started to rock back and forth. I wasn't crying, or feeling the need to cry, but I still felt tears down my cheeks as I tried to understand what had just happened.

I was so out of it, that I had not heard those old creaking steps of the stairs as my brother had come back up. He stopped by my door, looked at me, raised his eyebrows and a little mockingly said " what happened to you? " quite rhetorically I might add, as he just walked to his bedroom and closed the door without waiting for my response.

I should have thanked him, because his mocking was what got me out of that weird state I was in. I realized properly what had just happened to me, and I knew it was him. Our ghost.

As you do when someone truly scares you to oblivion, or in my case into a state of shock or so, you get mad, which is what I got. I sat there biting so hard it's a wonder my jaw didn't lock, and wondered how he could do something like that to me. It wasn't even funny! I got mad at the ghost for scaring me, just like I would if anyone of flesh and blood had done it.

So! I got back up, walked down the stairs with truly heavy feet, stopped by the foot of the stairs, faced towards the dark room. I did not yell as I didn't want the whole house to know, but I whispered, or rather hissed quit 'loudly', " If you EVER do that again then...then... Then I'll get somebody here who can take you away! I mean it! "... Then I stood there for about two seconds as if I was expecting some kind of response to my words, which I did not receive. I did a typical pouty-turn and walked back up the stairs and slammed the door. Most dramatic leave I've ever done I think.

Yet it worked. He has not done it again, and the whole house was in fact quite calm for about a month. So calm I began wondering if I had scared him away, which was not my intention. After that month he did return, starting again with little noises and what not, but ever since that event, ever since I told him not to do that again, I have not had much of moments where I've actually, undoubtedly seen him. Glanced him maybe. I say maybe as it is one of those things I can't explain but yet it might very well be my own imagination as it hasn't been 'obviously' supernatural. But not seeing him has not ended the experiences, not at all.

Sanguirina.