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.