This is a true story. I saw a real ghost. I am 100 percent sure about this. There really are ghosts.
The house I grew up in had a ghost. A lot of things happened in this house. But I was not a true believer in ghosts until I saw it. And I do not want to ever see another one. It scared me very bad. It changed my life. I know that when we die. It's not the end.
The house I grew up in was built in the 50's. My family was the second family to live in it. The original family moved after their son committed suicide in the house. One of our neighbours told my dad what had happened in the house. My dad didn't tell me about it until I was a teenager. When I was growing up. Things like the lights and the stereo would turn on by themselves. We would joke about it. But nobody really took it serious.
When I turned about twelve I moved my bedroom upstairs. Several times I would hear someone walking up the steps and then all the way across the room and then stop by my bed. I would be so scared. I knew the sounds this house would make. The creaking and cracking sounds especially in the winter. But I would hear something walk on every single step and then every step across the length of the room to my bed. I would look around. But I never could see anything. I would be so scared that I couldn't scream for my parents. I would hide under my blankets and eventually fall asleep. This happened many times. I got used to it.
When I was about 17 years old I went to my room to go to bed. I turned off my light. Jumped in bed. And there he was standing at the end of my bed. He glowed and was kind of transparent. Like you see on TV. Sometimes. He had a plaid flannel shirt on and blue jeans, curly hair, and over weight. I was never so scared. He was looking right at me. I dove under my blankets. Eventually I fell asleep.
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