It seems growing up we had slight fascination with ghosts, not a hard jump when you grow up in the house on the hill with a family cemetary. Two open graves led to great speculation on what might have come out of them. Was it our eyes playing tricks on our imagination the night we saw the white shadow cast on the encroaching darkness, flitting across the head stones? Was the dark spot on the grave, shaped like a footprint, left by someone long past?
Precursor to modern day "reality television" we set up tape recorders and cameras to capture the intruders from the mystical realm. Sounds played back, kept our imaginations running wild, any attempts at sleep banished.
As I grew older, these pursuits lost interest, buried in the recesses of my mind. Once though, they crashed back into the realm of possibility. My cousin stayed over at the house, we were up most of the night playing Tecmo Bowl. He had gone into the front of the house to get a soda, when I heard a female voice call my name beckoning me to come to the front of the house. Halfway down the hall I met my cousin, who had heard a similar call for him. A quick search of the house for mischievious friends, came up naught. We never came up with an explanation, just a renewed fascination in what goes bump in the night.
Happy Friday the 13th! Any ghost stories you would like to share?