The Ghost That Muted Our Screams

The subject of the supernatural will divide people into three groups: believers, skeptics and people on the fence of what to believe.

I, as you can guess by the title of this story, am a believer. For as long as I can remember, I've been seeing or hearing them. Or I'd have random feelings, thoughts, or dreams. Then I'd see them realized in real life anywhere from one day to a month later... but that's not what this particular story is about. Today, you'll read how a friend of mine, let's call her Sally, and I had a terrifying experience with one of the many ghosts that haunted my childhood home.

When I was in elementary school, my Mom and I lived in a four-plex. It wasn't the nicest apartment originally, but being the amazing Mom that she is, she made it feel like home. The basement apartment below us was vacant, the one next to us had a tenant (but not for long), and the basement apartment under our neighbour was also empty.

After a couple of months of living there, Sally's family moved into the basement apartment under our neighbour. She lived with her Dad and step Mom. Even though she was a year younger than me, her parents had asked me to babysit after school. Sally and I quickly became best friends and hung out all the time, even when I wasn't babysitting.

After about a year of living in that apartment, Mom bought a house in the little city I told you about in the "My Stalker" story. I had actually babysat in this house a couple of years before Mom bought it, and I've loved the house ever since. The second I saw it was for sale, I knew she had to buy it! It was huge compared to the apartment we were living in. There were three bedrooms, a massive dining room, a beautiful kitchen and a big living room! Not only that, but it had a big yard to play in too. She still lives in that house to this day.

To accurately tell you this story, I need to show you the layout of our home. You can see the layout of our house in the following picture:

Now, once you've opened my bedroom door, you'd have to take one step down before standing on my bedroom floor. The stair was carpeted, and when the door opened, you had to push it because there was no clearance between the door and the stair. There was also a washer and dryer in my room behind the door. Here is a picture of my room:

This story takes place during the summer between grade eight and high school.

It was a Friday night, and Sally was sleeping over at my house. We watched a movie or two, had pizza for dinner, and then went to my room to hang out. I had my own computer, so we downloaded our favourite songs from LimeWire and went on MSN to talk to boys (I realize I'm dating myself, and some of you may not even know what those are). The space between the end of my bed and the computer desk was pretty narrow. So instead of having a computer chair, I would sit on the edge of my bed. The room, illuminated by the bedside table and the light from the computer monitor, was bright enough, but not as bright as the ceiling light (this is important later).

While we were singing along to the music and talking to our friends online, we thought we heard a scratching on my door. We turned down the music to listen to what could have made the noise, and just as we did, it stopped. We kept the music playing, but didn't have it as loud as we had before. Then, we heard what sounded like someone jiggling the doorknob. At this point, we started getting creeped out and tried to ignore what was going on. Then, the door pushed open a few inches, and we convinced ourselves it was my dog, Ally. Without looking to see what or who opened the door, I closed it, pushing as hard as necessary until the latch caught in the frame.

Not long after, the door flew open! When I say it flew open, I mean it was shoved open with so much force that the door hit the slanted ceiling and put a chip/dent in the drywall. To do this, whatever it was would have had to turn the door handle to open the door. As soon as this happened, we saw a dark shadow in the doorway for a split second before it dissipated. Terrified, we flew to the furthest corner of the room, beside my bed. We screamed for my Mom, as loud as we could, but she never answered.

I have no idea why, but Sally thought it would be a good idea to say, "Could you please turn on the light? We're really scared!" I instantly asked her what the fluff she was thinking, and as soon as I said that, we saw the lightswitch flick-on. We screamed even louder for my Mom, and again, she never answered. Our screams sounded like we were being tortured or murdered. We gathered up our courage and ran as fast as we could downstairs. As we ran through the hallway and down the stairs, it felt like the ghost was right behind us, trying to grab us, but we were just out of its grasp.

Once we got to Mom in the kitchen, we were crying and hyperventilating. It goes without saying that she was very concerned about us and wanted to know what was going on. After we had the chance to calm down, we told her everything. The creepiest thing about this whole ordeal was not what happened to Sally and me, but what Mom told us from her perspective. She and Ally were downstairs doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen the entire time this was unfolding. Ally didn't come upstairs, and Mom, well, she never heard us screaming. She heard us laughing. The kind of laughter that was so intense you start wheezing, and your stomach hurts.

Is it possible that she misheard us because of where she was in the house? Sure. But, when I'm in my room, I can hear the radio playing in the kitchen below it. Look again at the layout of the house:

As you can see, my bedroom is directly above the kitchen. Taking this into consideration, it would be impossible for her to hear anything but our screams. Sally and I believe that whatever opened the door and turned on the light, somehow changed or muted our screams and disguised it as laughter, and this to me doesn't seem like something a peaceful ghost would have done. It's possible that there was a more sinister intent behind it, and who knows what would have happened if we didn't leave when we did.

Believe it... or not. That's up to you.