True Story Paranormal Encounters

#1 — The Closet

To this day I swear there is something evil in my closet.

Whenever I hide in there to get away from people, I feel Death looming over me like a sweaty hand.

One day my brother woke up in his room at midnight and saw what he calls “The Burning Man.”

The Burning man was standing near a wall — a wall whose other side formed my closet.

It was then I realized I had to do something. So me and my brother sat in my closet with a bunch of fake candles. I realized that this was silly. Two kids pretending to see ghosts.

But hey, it couldn’t hurt...

I held up an owl necklace, one I figured has enough spook value to lure in ghosts (stupid children seeing ghosts). I read somewhere that if the necklace moved from side to side, it meant no. If it moved in a circle, it meant yes (stupid children seeing ghosts). Since we didn’t have a ouiji board, we were limited to yes and no answers. I decided to start with the basics, pinching my hands firmly around the chain. It didn’t move. Perfect.

“Are there ghosts in this house?” For a few moments, there was nothing, and I was almost convinced that we were (stupid chidren seeing ghosts) wrong. There were no ghosts.

But then the necklace began to spin. In circles, over and over and over. My brother stares with wide eyes.

“Are you moving that?” He asks. I shake my head, my eyes equally round.

“You ask a question.”

“How many ghosts are there?”

“You can’t ask that!” I hiss. “It’s only yes or no.”

“Is there one ghost?” No.

“Is there two?”

Still no.

“Is there three?” Another resolute no. How high would we have to count? Ten? Eighty? A hundred? A million?”

“Is there four?” my brother asks in a small voice. Both of us stare at the pendant.

(stupid children seeing ghosts) It swirls in a beautiful circle.

Four ghosts. In my house. Oh shit.

“Is one of you the burning man?” My brother stares intently at the pendant.

Yes. One of them is the burning man. An elliptical spiral illustrates that and now both of us are officially scared (stupid children seeing ghosts).

“Do you want to hurt us?” I ask. Side to side.

“Is there a ghost who does.”

After a long pause, the necklace finally moves in a tight circle. I drop the necklace and instantly everything stops. A strange wind chills me to the bone. I look at my brother.

“We have ghosts in our house,” I say. He nods, his face lighting up with anxious excitement. “Oh my God.”(stupid children seeing ghosts)

My brother saw the burning man three more times after that. I saw a young boy, who gave me a high five.

Can I just say, never ever high five a ghost. His hand went through mine and my whole wrist shook and got really cold and tingly. It was terrifying. It took a long time for the feeling to go away.

After that I didn’t high five any more ghosts.

But my closet still felt... evil...

God only knows if there is a ghost in there who wants to hurt us. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe we were just stupid chidren seeing ghosts.

But that closet is evil. Ghosts or no.

#2 — The Graveyard

I used to go to this summer camp as a child. It was ages 5 to 11. It was the place my brother went to preschool and it was near a deep forest. I have always loved to go exploring in forests, I find it fun and interesting. So I was the first to volunteer when someone said they were taking a group out into the woods. We walked past a "fairy garden," where several tiny pieces of furniture were set up to look like a mini house. But the real fun came when we passed a graveyard. The teacher stopped us before we went in.

"Don't take anything," she said. "We don't want to disturb the dead."

"I heard that if you talk in a graveyard then ghosts will come get you," says a boy next to me.

"That's not true," I say. "Watch." I ran through the mossy, worn down stones and stood in front of it.

"See? No ghosts!" The boy runs in after me.

"Yeah I bet ghosts are not real."

"Oh they are," I say with unusual solemnity. "But they don't care if you talk in a graveyard. They only care if you touch something or take it." Me and him made a game of running around and touching every single headstone. As we were doing that, I found one where something was loose on the top.

"Hey," I say. "Look at this! I found something!" The boy comes running over to me, along with several other children.

"It's a dog tag," says one girl. "What's it say?" I squint at the rusted, worn away print.

"It's some kind of prayer, I think." The dog tag was passed around our small circle.

"Maybe this guy was in the military."

"Obviously he was in a religious family." We couldn't read the name other than a few letters, ones which I can not remember.

"Alright kids," said the lady in charge. "Time to go." Some kids hadn't gone in the graveyard at all, full of fear. Those who had, like me, gloated about it and the dog tag we found.

We made it all the way back to the building before it happened.

We were in a large, open room, one that seemed to be designed as a playground for children. There were no toys or structures to climb on. Just open space. Everyone was running around, havin fun, until someone screamed.

The kid who I was joking around with in the graveyard had bitten someone. He had a crazy look in his eyes and was running around chasing down everyone. We all stared at him and flinched if he came near us. Finally, one of the councilors managed to snap him out of it.

"What's wrong with you?" yells the lady from the graveyard walk. "Get a grip." The boy looks up at her, confused.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about!" The lady grabs his arm.

"You bit Daniela (IDK her actual name) over there and were running around like a lunatic!" The boy looks horrified.

"I don't remember any of that," he says, and then looks down in shame and fear. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the dog tag.

"The ghost made him do it!" someone screamed, sending everyone in hysterics. The woman grabbed the dog tag and sent over an old lady to watch us while she returned it. I went over to the kid.

"Bro, do you really not rememer any of that? Spooky."

"No I don't," he said. "I guess I shouldn't have taken that dog tag." Then he smiles. "But how cool! I was possessed by a ghost!"

"This is literally the coolest thing ever," I said, laughing. "I told you ghosts are real."

#3 — The Window Man

I am a major insomniac. Or, was. I take medicine these days. One one day, I couldn't get to sleep except in hour intervals. I woke up at one, fiddled around, then went back to sleep.

It was two in the morning when my door opened and a dark shadow walked around my room. I stared at it. It was probably my mom, come in to check on me. As I stared, it walked aover to my window. As I stared, it spun around and saw me. And I saw him. That's right. This was not my mother. Or my father. Or my brother. It was an old man, with a long beard and thin, brittle bones. His skin clung to him like a mosquito clings to me and drinks my blood. Then I blinked, and he vanished.

The next morning, I went to my mom to make sure I wasn't imagining the man.

"Did anyone come into my room last night?" She shook her head.

"No. Why?" I stared at her.

"No reason."

I never saw the old man again. But I am convinced he was a ghost, and not a dream.