What The....

From: Tiffany (tiffany3710@comcast.net)
Story type: Ghost
Location: my room
Source: Form Submission

I think someone died in my closet. Before I go into details I have to tell you the facts. My sister used to be in the room that I am in now. But whne she moved out I got her room (Hooray!) There's a problem though. People may not believe it but I truly do believe I am psychic. That or psycho. I have this weird imagination. Anything having to do with ghosts and it's like...I don't know, this psychic connection is turned on.

Like now even as I type this I see a young girl prancing around my room (in my mind) trying on things. If you have read my article with Charlotte Gawain then you may have a better idea. If not it's kind of hard to explain. (Charlotte Gawain is under the ghost story category somewhere)

But anyway, I have no possible proof that I am psychic but that's not what I want to write about. Back to my sister...

when she was still 13 she told me ghost stories that checked out to be true.(wow she told the truth!)now she is 18 and says she has no memories of these ghostly hauntings. When she was 13 she told me a story of how late at night when she was 11 a ghost would come out of her closet. It was a black figure with glowing red eyes. It would stare at her then eventually fade away.

A night while she was at a friends house me and one of my friends decided to investigate this so called "haunted room" we opened the door and I swear that I saw a black figure in there. It was about six feet tall, (or so it seemed, it was floating on the floor afterall)

I asked my friend if she saw anything and she gulped and said "Do you mean that figure?" I knew I wasn't crazy so I stepped in the room. It turned it's head, our eyes met for a second then my friend ran screaming from the room. The black figure then faded away...

now I am in that room and I haven't thought about that story for a long long time. But for some odd reason, I can't turn my back to the closet. Something lurks in there waiting...waiting..for what? I have absolutely no idea.

When I was four my sister told me a story about this house. One that I know for a fact is true. She had told me that a man had lived all by himself in this house before my sister moved in. She had told me that it looked as if THREE people had lived there. She told me that mom and dad had asked if he had divorced lately. He smiled a crazed smile and said No.

So I asked my mom and dad if that had really happened they had told me yes and they weren't quite sure what he had meant. Being older and reflecting back on all of this is really making me realize what he meant. I'll admit that I am terrifyed. I am terrifyed because I can't seem to get the picture of Charlotte Gawain and Cohen out of my head. I can't seem to stop imagining that murderous husband that probably buried his son in a room. MY room. But this is murder we are talking about here. Maybe one day I'll have the guts to venture into my closet and look around. Afterall, who knows what I might find....