Ghost in the Hall
Sleep Overs Ruined
Besides monsters in the closet, there were ghosts in the hall. And not pleasant ones, in fact, but ones who seemed aggressive and unpleasant. Each night I'd lay down and try to sleep. Often times I was up reading or, as habit was, talking to my tape recorder. I'd eventually record over top of everything, anyway, It made me feel less alone, and in the very least, if anything happened to me, there was taped evidence. (Although once I got a mini tape recorder, for Christmas, that hobby went a bit farther and took me right to trying to bust the criminals among us, but we're not going to talk about that. It's pretty obvious I wasn't a normal kid. It's simply off topic.)
Each night, probably after 2am, I could either feel someone come into my room, or at least stand in the doorway. It simply felt like someone was staring at me. I was usually too scared to even chance a look, in the event that I'd see what was there. Most times, I'd just bide my time by explicitly speaking into my microphone what was going on. Acknowledge it was there, and the horrible feeling that filled the room. It was angry, just something you could feel. It just felt like you were in danger. Someone staring so hard it could bore holes into you.
It was hard to sleep most nights, with something like that staring so hard and hatefully at you. And once I moved my bed to the far end of my room, the ghost would come further in, so that you could feel it next to the bedside. It never spoke and to my knowledge, it never really made a noise. Except maybe footsteps. It simply became the norm, I had to expect that every night when I went to sleep, this ghost would be coming in, and I'd be terrified, and unable to sleep. Sometimes sleep didn't come until dawn when the sun rose and whatever it was went away.
And perhaps I could've simply figured I was going crazy. Pretty easy to figure, honestly, but I wasn't alone.
At the point where I had more rooms at my disposal, I'd have people over and they'd opt to sleep in my room. Since there was no bed space, I'd sleep on the couch or in another room. One morning I was greeted with, "Your brother is really creepy." "How's that?" "He came into the room, last night, and stood next to the bed, and watched us sleep. He stood there like that for hours, it really freaked us out!" "Funny, that." "What?" "My brother wasn't home last night and still isn't home. He spent the night at a friends house." "Then who was it?" "Don't know. My mom is still asleep, and she's in the attic room. No one else was here but us." (My mom moved into the attic room when my sister moved out.)
I got it a second time when someone else slept on my bedroom couch seat. They complained that my brother had come in and watched them sleep and it was hard to fall asleep because it was really creepy. But again, my brother hadn't been home. He was usually over his friends house or over a girl friends house. And it happened again one night when Allison decided to sleep in my bed after I switched rooms. Despite the room switch, while Ally was sleeping and I was sleeping downstairs on the couch, something came into the room and stood behind her while she was trying to sleep and she was too scared to move.
There was plenty up with the hallway and the stairs not just from ground floor up, but basement up to ground floor, and the first floor up to the second floor. It came to the point where I avoided being on the stairs or in the hall at night unless I absolutely had to be. You could hear someone walking up or down the stairs at night. One night when I had someone sleeping over in elementary, we both heard footsteps and I leaned in and said, "That's my dad, he's going to bed." and I shouted at the doorway, "G'night dad!" but there was no answer. "OKAY FINE GOOD NIGHT THEN." No answer. But also, my parents bedroom door didn't open or close. I leaned out to look and no one was at the top of the stairs. It wasn't until 20 minutes later my dad came up to go to bed. But we both had heard someone distinctly walking up.
A lot of nights I could just hear people walking the stairs and knew very well no one was there. And there were times I could feel someone rush past me on the stairs or simply get the feeling I wasn't alone when I was going up or down the steps. One evening, I was carrying a peanut butter and jelly sandwich upstairs on a plate and I paused on the steps. "Don't you dare," I muttered, "Don't you fucking DARE." but it was too late, someone or something slapped the plate right out of my hand and sent my sandwich flying. I had to stay on the steps, terrified in the company of the undead, while trying to scrub peanut butter and jelly out of the carpet. All I wanted to do was go to my room. I just wanted to eat and be left alone, but there I was, scrubbing the steps that evening, scared because I wasn't alone.
For one full year, as well, after my sister moved out, and I distinctly remember it was 1995, I was in 5th grade and honestly having a terrible year in school. It was the first time I was scared to even go to school because my teacher was a crazy bitch towards me... Anyway... each night I'd have nightmares. Every single night was nightmares and I'd wake up extremely sick. I was very sick to my stomach and feverish, and it was late at night, early morning, and I could just hear someone walking around in the room above mine. No one was up there, but the footsteps were loud and unmistakable.
For one full year I woke up from nightmares, ready to throw up, only to hear those footsteps. And on the worst nights, I could hear the footsteps move down the stairs and I could hear the door to the stairs open and close. I spent the whole year terrified at school and at home and sick and afraid to even sleep. I was so glad when that finally, for some reason, came to an end. It never really happened again. At least not so ritually.
And many times I could hear someone walking up and down the basement steps. One night, I had picked our cat Kobe up and was holding him in the kitchen and suddenly I could hear footsteps coming up from the basement. I was alone with my brother, that night, and he was in the living room. But I heard the footsteps come up from the basement, cross the threshold into the kitchen, walk across the kitchen, and stop right in front of me. And it could've been just me if not for the fact that the cat was ALSO watching as each footstep moved closer, also following the sound. I quickly put him down and left the kitchen and went into the living room. My brother hadn't heard anything at all, but the tv was up a little loud, so I wasn't surprised. I just refused to leave the living room until my brother did.
And there was also the delightful day when I was leaving to run errands with my dad, since I always tagged along. I just needed to get a clean shirt on and incidentally, the one I wanted was in the dryer in the basement. I went down and put it on and walked back upstairs. I walked past my dad in the kitchen and he said to me, "I thought you went to put a clean shirt on." "I did, just got this one out of the dryer. You saw the one I had one." "Yeah, it's a different shirt, but there's uh... dirt? On it?" "What? Where?" "On the back." So I went into the bathroom to check it out and on my back, clear as day, was a man's handprint. But it wasn't in dirt, it was in coal dust. (Definitely much blacker and more powdery than regular dirt.) It wasn't there when I took my shirt out of the dryer. At some point, on my way up the stairs, something touched me. I never even felt it, but there was the evidence.
It's not like it was the first or last time that a ghost touched me, though. And there were definitely more ways than that which they decided to communicate. They were very good at moving things, as well.
Besides monsters in the closet, there were ghosts in the hall. And not pleasant ones, in fact, but ones who seemed aggressive and unpleasant. Each night I'd lay down and try to sleep. Often times I was up reading or, as habit was, talking to my tape recorder. I'd eventually record over top of everything, anyway, It made me feel less alone, and in the very least, if anything happened to me, there was taped evidence. (Although once I got a mini tape recorder, for Christmas, that hobby went a bit farther and took me right to trying to bust the criminals among us, but we're not going to talk about that. It's pretty obvious I wasn't a normal kid. It's simply off topic.)
Each night, probably after 2am, I could either feel someone come into my room, or at least stand in the doorway. It simply felt like someone was staring at me. I was usually too scared to even chance a look, in the event that I'd see what was there. Most times, I'd just bide my time by explicitly speaking into my microphone what was going on. Acknowledge it was there, and the horrible feeling that filled the room. It was angry, just something you could feel. It just felt like you were in danger. Someone staring so hard it could bore holes into you.
It was hard to sleep most nights, with something like that staring so hard and hatefully at you. And once I moved my bed to the far end of my room, the ghost would come further in, so that you could feel it next to the bedside. It never spoke and to my knowledge, it never really made a noise. Except maybe footsteps. It simply became the norm, I had to expect that every night when I went to sleep, this ghost would be coming in, and I'd be terrified, and unable to sleep. Sometimes sleep didn't come until dawn when the sun rose and whatever it was went away.
And perhaps I could've simply figured I was going crazy. Pretty easy to figure, honestly, but I wasn't alone.
At the point where I had more rooms at my disposal, I'd have people over and they'd opt to sleep in my room. Since there was no bed space, I'd sleep on the couch or in another room. One morning I was greeted with, "Your brother is really creepy." "How's that?" "He came into the room, last night, and stood next to the bed, and watched us sleep. He stood there like that for hours, it really freaked us out!" "Funny, that." "What?" "My brother wasn't home last night and still isn't home. He spent the night at a friends house." "Then who was it?" "Don't know. My mom is still asleep, and she's in the attic room. No one else was here but us." (My mom moved into the attic room when my sister moved out.)
I got it a second time when someone else slept on my bedroom couch seat. They complained that my brother had come in and watched them sleep and it was hard to fall asleep because it was really creepy. But again, my brother hadn't been home. He was usually over his friends house or over a girl friends house. And it happened again one night when Allison decided to sleep in my bed after I switched rooms. Despite the room switch, while Ally was sleeping and I was sleeping downstairs on the couch, something came into the room and stood behind her while she was trying to sleep and she was too scared to move.
There was plenty up with the hallway and the stairs not just from ground floor up, but basement up to ground floor, and the first floor up to the second floor. It came to the point where I avoided being on the stairs or in the hall at night unless I absolutely had to be. You could hear someone walking up or down the stairs at night. One night when I had someone sleeping over in elementary, we both heard footsteps and I leaned in and said, "That's my dad, he's going to bed." and I shouted at the doorway, "G'night dad!" but there was no answer. "OKAY FINE GOOD NIGHT THEN." No answer. But also, my parents bedroom door didn't open or close. I leaned out to look and no one was at the top of the stairs. It wasn't until 20 minutes later my dad came up to go to bed. But we both had heard someone distinctly walking up.
A lot of nights I could just hear people walking the stairs and knew very well no one was there. And there were times I could feel someone rush past me on the stairs or simply get the feeling I wasn't alone when I was going up or down the steps. One evening, I was carrying a peanut butter and jelly sandwich upstairs on a plate and I paused on the steps. "Don't you dare," I muttered, "Don't you fucking DARE." but it was too late, someone or something slapped the plate right out of my hand and sent my sandwich flying. I had to stay on the steps, terrified in the company of the undead, while trying to scrub peanut butter and jelly out of the carpet. All I wanted to do was go to my room. I just wanted to eat and be left alone, but there I was, scrubbing the steps that evening, scared because I wasn't alone.
For one full year, as well, after my sister moved out, and I distinctly remember it was 1995, I was in 5th grade and honestly having a terrible year in school. It was the first time I was scared to even go to school because my teacher was a crazy bitch towards me... Anyway... each night I'd have nightmares. Every single night was nightmares and I'd wake up extremely sick. I was very sick to my stomach and feverish, and it was late at night, early morning, and I could just hear someone walking around in the room above mine. No one was up there, but the footsteps were loud and unmistakable.
For one full year I woke up from nightmares, ready to throw up, only to hear those footsteps. And on the worst nights, I could hear the footsteps move down the stairs and I could hear the door to the stairs open and close. I spent the whole year terrified at school and at home and sick and afraid to even sleep. I was so glad when that finally, for some reason, came to an end. It never really happened again. At least not so ritually.
And many times I could hear someone walking up and down the basement steps. One night, I had picked our cat Kobe up and was holding him in the kitchen and suddenly I could hear footsteps coming up from the basement. I was alone with my brother, that night, and he was in the living room. But I heard the footsteps come up from the basement, cross the threshold into the kitchen, walk across the kitchen, and stop right in front of me. And it could've been just me if not for the fact that the cat was ALSO watching as each footstep moved closer, also following the sound. I quickly put him down and left the kitchen and went into the living room. My brother hadn't heard anything at all, but the tv was up a little loud, so I wasn't surprised. I just refused to leave the living room until my brother did.
And there was also the delightful day when I was leaving to run errands with my dad, since I always tagged along. I just needed to get a clean shirt on and incidentally, the one I wanted was in the dryer in the basement. I went down and put it on and walked back upstairs. I walked past my dad in the kitchen and he said to me, "I thought you went to put a clean shirt on." "I did, just got this one out of the dryer. You saw the one I had one." "Yeah, it's a different shirt, but there's uh... dirt? On it?" "What? Where?" "On the back." So I went into the bathroom to check it out and on my back, clear as day, was a man's handprint. But it wasn't in dirt, it was in coal dust. (Definitely much blacker and more powdery than regular dirt.) It wasn't there when I took my shirt out of the dryer. At some point, on my way up the stairs, something touched me. I never even felt it, but there was the evidence.
It's not like it was the first or last time that a ghost touched me, though. And there were definitely more ways than that which they decided to communicate. They were very good at moving things, as well.
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