My house is haunted. Literally. And though they (yes, there is more than one and only two of them are connected to us personally) have been very quiet since last fall when I lost my temper a couple of times with the non-family ones, it seems they are back. Things are happening again. Banging noises in empty rooms. Footsteps overhead where no one is. Rustling sounds of activity that have no discernible origin.
The topper was the other night after we had gone to bed and Rob felt someone pressing on the side of his face. This has happened to him before and I am glad they choose him because that sort of thing would earn them a scalding verbal lashing from me, but I am not glad to know that the weirdness of late is a return of creepiness and bad b-movie spiritual cheesiness.
So what do my ghost-busting issues have to do with you? Tell me a ghost story. Personal or one you remember from slumber party or camping days of yore. Write it. Link to it. Something scary (and ugly women don’t count, Uncle Keith) for all to enjoy.
Here is my story. Looking forward to hearing, seeing or listening to yours.
anniegirl1138 
Grrr. Tried to post it, but didn’t see the required fields there.
I’ll give you a fully-formed reply once I figure out if my hauntings are this house or this woman.
But thank you for inspiring me to blog a bit again.
The building I worked in before this one was a 80+ year old facility. The janitors swore it was haunted and that they had seen the boy in knickers on more than one occasion by more than one person. I know when I would go to work there at night, my kids would want to go with me to catch a glimpse of the little boy; however, if I ever stated the fact before entering the school it would give them the creeps. It now is a local urban legend that binds us to that old grade school—great meme…
Marsha
Hmm. Well, you’ve pretty much published all of my ghost stories about the house and so I don’t have anymore to add.
One thing just came to mind, though. I remember when the kids were young, Farron in particular. A baby in the crib. She would sometimes be talking and laughing and carrying on as if there were someone else there in the room with her. Except that, to my knowledge, she was alone. I wondered if there was a spirit in there, one that she could see, entertaining her. A time or two, I even crept up on the open doorway to peek in and see if it looked like she was really “looking” at someone. Never did find out, though.
The house I grew up in in Upper Michigan was 100 years old, at least. Loved that house. I was in college and home for Christmas one year, and my parents and my brother started talking about the ghost in that house. Apparently, they’d seen a little girl many times and in various rooms. I had no idea what they were talking about; I’d never once seen her, and it had never been discussed until that night, at least with me in the room.
My dorm, though, had ghosts. Friends of mine had all kinds of stories to tell of their own, plus the ones that had been handed down by previous students. It most often manifested in hearing someone running down the hall, but if you opened your door, there was never anyone there. Noises in the attic, too.
I’ve got two from my blog:
http://migraine_boy98.typepad.com/a_riot_is_an_ugly_thing/2007/10/boo-2.html
http://migraine_boy98.typepad.com/a_riot_is_an_ugly_thing/2006/10/boo.html
I haven’t thought of this in years! This really happened to me.
The Ghost on 27th Street
I’ll bet you will get lots of responses. Everybody loves ghost stories! 🙂
I read your comment to Rob and he said,
“It’s not haunted. It’s just inhabited by spirits – a little bit.”
And it is really not that big of a deal. If we were taking Amityville horror stuff – well – then I would really be taking a stand, but it’s bumps and footsteps and the occasionally movement on the top of the covers at night (or early morning – they like early morning for some reason. Not a huge thing really and I am so not brave.
i don’t know if i’d stay in a house with a built in spook-brigade! i have a writer friend who is a regional ‘ghost hunter’. on one outing she declared me “psychically deaf” – pretty oblivious to apparent happenings around me… which is fine with me! You’re a very brave woman!