Throughout the centuries there has been a controversial belief in ghosts. Many people refuse to believe that they exist unless there is scientific evidence to prove it possible and completely ignore the evidence of first-hand accounts that have piled up throughout the centuries. I’ll admit, that I’ve always wanted to believe in ghosts, but was always skeptical, until a certain experience of my own. I believe in ghosts.
I was sixteen when it happened, and it was a hot summer evening. I remember lying down and almost immediately drifting off to sleep once my head hit the pillow. A few hours later I woke up a little warm, my mother’s house is very old and during the most extreme seasons the house takes in either the heat or the cold. I lowered my blankets down slightly to try to cool off. However, I found myself unable to fall back to sleep, tossing and turning every few minutes. Soon I was lying on my stomach. I started to feel a slight tugging on my comforter. Then there was nothing, so I thought I was just imagining things from the current lack of sleep that I was getting. About five minutes passed with nothing but the loud ticking of our living room clock on the opposite end of the house was heard. Then, I felt the tugging again. I began to feel panicky, my heart rate increased and beads of perspiration formed on my forehead. The comforter had moved from just below my shoulders to the middle of the back of my thighs and was still slowly, inching its way down. Finally I summed up the courage to turn around. As soon as my eyes were facing behind me, my comforter flew off and into the hallway and I saw a quick flash of an elderly man’s face. All I was able to make out was that he was wearing a hat, he had a mustache, and he wore a quaint little grin and he was gone.
When I woke the next morning, I was skeptical of what I saw, however, after I told my mother of my encounter and she soon changed my mind. She told me that three generations of families before ours, there was an elderly couple that lived in our house. The wife died three months before the man. The man died in our house, in his bedroom, which is now, my bedroom. The neighbors also told my mother that, he always wore a farmer’s type of attire. There was nothing special about how he dressed. He wore jeans, flannel shirts, and a hat. My mother then proceeded to ask our neighbors if he had facial hair, and the neighbors verified that he did wear a mustache.
Our neighbor’s testimony of the appearance of a former owner was almost identical to the man I had seen. I began to believe that what I had seen that hot summer night was real. Through this experience and many other happenings in my house, I believe in ghosts.
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