My True Ghost Story:

THE PEG LEGGED BOY

When I was between 3 - 4 years of age my family lived in a small house. My family included my older brother and older sister. What I never knew till I was much older was that there was a woman who had her throat slit and died in the bathroom of the house, but oddly enough there was more going on in that little house than a woman who was sadly murdered. I first remember this being what I can only describe as, as the Grim Reaper. Since I had a bed in my parent’s bedroom this Grim Reaper would stand near the end of my bed and just stare at me it felt like past it’s cloak like cloth shrouding it’s face and arms. For a while the Reaper would come almost nightly then it stopped coming. Something else began to come for me instead. Something more terrifying in my mind. Something else to hurt and torment me almost nightly. Something else made sure I couldn't scream for help. I fought to free myself from its grasp and jump into my parents bed and lie between them. It watched me from the foot of the bed between the rails and glare. Do you want to know what this thing was? I believe now as I look back at it that this was the Grim Reaper that now changed itself into a Blonde haired, Blue Eyed little boy who had a peg leg. Yes, you read that right. I said a peg leg. Like a pirate with a peg leg. If you close your eyes, imagine a small child hearing another small child's footstep approaching from the kitchen. With each small step, there was a loud clop that dragged upon ceramic floor and then as your heart races faster you begin feel almost out of breath. You hear that small child step down from the kitchen into the bedroom and peek around the dresser that blocked the doorways view. That blonde haired boy with blue eyes slowly walking around the side of the dresser and standing there. First with a smile on his face. Then the smile became frightening and menacing and you could feel like you wanted to run but there was nowhere to go. His demeanor would change. He face turned into this evil look and that grin that would appear made you realize something bad was going to happen. The intensity and air of the room changes. My voice seeming to disappear as my parents lay nearby across the room and I couldn't even scream to get them as they slept. That child then charged at me. Removing his peg leg and hitting me with it until I was able to get free and jump into my parent’s bed. I could hear him behind me chasing to catch up to me so I couldn’t get away and every time I did and climbed in between my parents he’d stand at the end of the bed and look through the railings at the foot of the bed and sway back and forth. Expressionless. Letting the rails rub against his face as he pressed his face into the railings swaying back and forth. We locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually I woke up and it was morning. As each day came, I always seemed to forget about each night and then when the evenings would hit and I knew it was time to go to bed, I’d remember why I was afraid to go to sleep. I was afraid to lay on the opposite side of the room from my parents bed because “that boy” would come and get me. He always come and get me. I would fight my mom to stay up and not go to sleep. She would think that I was just being a child who didn’t want to go to bed and I couldn’t explain what was going on. What I was seeing. What was after me.

That child’s face, nails, skin was so cold. I remember seeing close to his nails when he’d grab me and the tips of his fingers were almost blue. His hair was always messy…. But that peg like of his was so frightening. Just the sound it made as he made his way through the kitchen. The step then drag and clop against ceramic. It always sounded like it was on a hardwood floor yet our kitchen didn’t have hardwood. All I could do was lie there in bed.. All I could do was wait. Wait to see the fingertips curl around the dresser or the silence then his head quickly peak around the side of the dresser and he’d then slowly step out from beside it and just stand there looking at me. Looking at me for sometimes quite a while and then sometimes only a moment before charging at me and pouncing on me in bed.

There was some nights I would have that moment where I would think I would get sleep and I would wake up being pounced on by this little boy. Shortly before moving from that home, the boy left me alone but it went to a different situation in the same house.

When I would get up in the middle of the night (which was rare) I would go into the bathroom and a woman's hands would reach out of the mirror above the sink as if she was reaching for me. Other instances would be that in this bathroom across the room from the sink was this built in closet that protruded from the wall. The door would always seem to come ajar as I sat on the toilet and I would see and sense this person staring at me. I would end up having to run across the bathroom, through the kitchen and jump into bed and cover up because I was scared.

You would think moving would have solved my ghost problems for sure and boy was I relieved that we moved up the street from that crazy little house… Well, not so much… that is another story for a different day. Being a sensitive to these type of things, I’ve learned there is no freedom from ghosts. You just learn to co-exist with those who don’t physically exist anymore..