Do You Believe in Ghosts?

It was a late Saturday night, and the four of us—Jenny, Mark, Sarah, and I—were gathered around a campfire in Jenny's backyard. The fire crackled and popped, casting flickering shadows across our faces. After a few rounds of roasting marshmallows and trading silly jokes, the conversation took a more serious turn.

Sarah leaned in, her eyes wide with curiosity. “So, do you guys believe in ghosts?”

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, ghosts aren’t real. It’s all just stuff people make up to scare themselves.”

Jenny, always the skeptic, nodded in agreement. “I mean, think about it. If ghosts were real, wouldn’t we have some kind of scientific evidence by now?”

I wasn’t so sure. I’d heard too many weird stories, had too many strange experiences, to dismiss the idea completely. “I don’t know,” I said, staring into the fire. “There was this one time…”

As soon as the words left my mouth, everyone turned to look at me. “Go on,” Mark urged, “tell us the story.”

“Okay,” I began, gathering my thoughts. “So, a couple of years ago, I was staying at my grandparents’ old house. They’d passed away, and the place had been empty for a while. My parents decided it was time to clean it up and get it ready to sell, so I agreed to help out.”

“The first couple of days were fine. Dusty and full of memories, but nothing too weird. Then, on the third night, things got… strange.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Strange how?”

“Well,” I continued, “around midnight, I was in my room, trying to sleep. Suddenly, I heard this soft, melodic humming. It was a lullaby my grandma used to sing to me when I was little. I thought my mind was just playing tricks on me, but the humming got louder and more distinct.”

Mark tried to hide his smirk. “Maybe you were just dreaming?”

“That’s what I thought at first, but then I felt this icy cold breeze sweep through the room. It was summer, and there were no windows open. I sat up in bed and saw this faint, glowing figure standing at the foot of my bed. It looked like my grandma, just… transparent.”

Sarah shivered slightly, hugging her knees to her chest. “What did you do?”

“I was frozen,” I admitted. “I couldn’t move or speak. She just stood there, humming the lullaby and looking at me with this gentle, loving expression. After what felt like forever, she slowly faded away. The room got warm again, and I was finally able to move.”

Jenny and Mark exchanged glances, clearly skeptical. “Are you sure you didn’t just imagine it?” Jenny asked.

“I know it sounds crazy,” I said, “but I wasn’t dreaming. It felt so real. The next morning, I mentioned it to my mom, and she told me that my grandma used to talk about the house being ‘full of spirits.’ I never believed her until that night.”

Sarah nodded slowly. “I believe you. Sometimes, there are things we just can’t explain.”

Mark and Jenny still looked doubtful, but they didn’t argue. The fire crackled softly as we all sat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Whether they believed in ghosts or not, my story had definitely given them something to think about.

As the night wore on and the fire died down, we decided it was time to call it a night. We gathered our things and headed inside, but the question lingered in our minds: Do you believe in ghosts?