Childhood Ghost Story

I am still working on Perilous Delivery, however, since I was sick this week, I wanted to make sure I still got you guys something, so I decided to write a true story of something that happened when I was a child that helped get me started onto the paranormal.

If you guys enjoy this story, let me know, and maybe I can share some more of my very own true ghost stories.

I should start by pointing out that my first experience with the paranormal was before I was old enough to remember. When I was still a baby in Chicago. My mom heard me playing with someone. I was just old enough for her to ask, “Who are you talking to?” To which I smiled and pointed to an empty part of the room, saying, “The lady.” My mom looked into the empty room, and the only thing she saw was a ray of light coming in from a window. She believes that I was talking to the Virgin Mary. I honestly was too young to remember any of it.

However, I do have some paranormal memories from the first house my parents moved to with me in Vancouver.

Weirdly, there is no reason why the house should have been haunted. It was a relatively new house, no one had died there, no Native American burial ground, no murders, nothing. The only thing that I can think is that my sister did go through a phase of being into some dark, occult business with some of her friends when she was around that age. So, maybe she invited something into the house, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe it just so happened to be a house with a dark entity, it really doesn’t matter.

We lived in that house for quite a few years while I was pretty little. All in all, I have a lot of fond memories of that house, however, there was definitely something… off, especially at night.

I do not remember how things started, or if there was any progression to the events. I do remember that the things I’m going to describe were not happening every night. There was no discernable pattern to them at all actually. Or at least, no pattern that I, being a little kid, could discern.

Okay, are you ready? I would wake up at night, my door would open, and a man would walk into my room. He was extremely pale, he was bald, and I can still to this day remember the extremely angry look on his face as he would silently glare at me. He never walked up to me, nothing, he would just stand at the end of the hallway and glare at me.

It got so bad that for a time I started going to sleep with my parents. He didn’t seem to visit on nights when I was with them.

When I would see him, sometimes I would scream, but of course, when one of my parents showed up he would be gone. I never saw him during the day either, although sometimes I had a vague feeling of being watched. To the point that I once told one of my teachers that I felt like someone was watching me, and it scared me. She told me her theory that it was God. Even as a little kid I was so annoyed by that answer. The thought of God watching me should comfort me, not make me feel like I was in mortal danger.

Anyway, the situation actually had such a profound effect on me that one week when we had an art project at school, I painted an image of myself sleeping with a creepy skull man watching me.

My mom was the art teacher, and she happened to be hanging paintings when she heard one of the other mom’s looking at my painting. That woman said, in a very sarcastic tone, “Oh yeah, I bet this kid’s mom is real proud…” My mom looked over and saw that it was my painting, so she looked the lady full in the face and said, “You bet your butt I am.” Or something like that.

I relate that story just to show that I was very profoundly affected by what was happening to me.

After a few years my family moved, and I never really saw that ghost again. In fact, fortunately, there did not seem to be anything haunting the house we moved into. I had many other paranormal encounters over the years, but those are stories I can share another time. Before that, there is one more relevant story to share that may be related to this ghost I was seeing as a small child.

When I was around thirteen years old, I had mostly forgotten about the creepy pale man. Then one night I was sound asleep, and I was startled awake by a noise. I looked up, and there was someone standing in the entryway to my bedroom, just like the creepy, bald, ghost used to. This time though, it looked like my best friend at the time, Nathaniel. Now, Nathaniel was a short, chubby, black boy. He looked nothing like the creeper.

I saw him and said, “Nathaniel, what are you doing?” He looked at me and smiled, and then said,

“Kevin, Let me in.”

I was startled by that response, and kind of laughed, then replied, “Bro, what are you talking about?”

That was when his face started to change, he suddenly looked way taller, thinner, and was becoming increasingly pale.

Then he spoke again, but this time it sounded nothing like Nathaniel, but instead sounded like some kind of horror movie sound effect demon voice. He said, “Let me in! LET ME IN! LET ME IN NOW!”

At that point, I was just not there for it whatsoever, and I told the thing, which now looked eerily similar to the ghost from my childhood, to leave. It screamed and left.

I fell back asleep. And when I woke up the next morning, I had thought that maybe the whole thing was just a nightmare or something. However, when I got out of bed, the door to my room was wide open. I am one-hundred percent sure that I closed it that night before bed. It was wide open. And here’s the thing, I know for a fact that it wasn’t my mom coming in to check on me or anything like that because when I was that age I used to leave my window open, and my mom would always get really mad about that. My window was open, she would have closed it. She always closed it, and then she would lecture me the next day about how, “I’m not trying to heat the whole damn planet” if it was winter, or conversely, “Does the whole zip code need the air conditioning?” If it was summer. Either way, she hated me having that window open, but I couldn’t sleep with it closed, so, we were always in this immortal combat during that year. Thus, there is no way she would have come in to check on me, seen the window open, and left not only the window but the door open. Also, by that age, she almost never did come in to check on me anymore, and she certainly wasn't leaving the door wide open if she did.

Well, there you go. That was the last time I saw the thing. I’m not sure what’s creepier. The fact that the ghost would come and torment me as a little kid, or the fact that it tried to disguise itself as someone I trusted to get me to allow it back into my life later.