A personal ghost story
This post isn't meant for young children. I don't know why any would be reading this blog, but I thought I'd throw that out there.

There is a bit of debate out there about exactly what ghosts are, if they are and what it all means. For what it is worth, I believe there is something out there. Evil spirits one should not be communing with. And because it is that season, I thought I'd share my own ghost story and leave it open for your interpretation.

It scared me half to death and I think you will see why.

When we lived in Ft. Wayne, we lived in a house with occasional strange goings on. Most were explicable...but consistent enough that we could not help but wonder if something else was there as well. I'm sure everyone has had the experience of turning the light out in a room only to discover later that the light is still on. It is an eerie sensation, but most of the time I am sure the real cause of the light's persistent "on-ness" is that you only thought you turned out the light.

But it happened a lot in that house, and centered on one room of the house.

And I'm getting chills up my spine. I think I'll think about something else for a moment.

Like the lady bug hibernating in our house. I'll write about him more later, but I think he thought he found a good spot to stay until he met the children.

I can get through this. Really I can. So there were the lights. And my mom calling my name. Very distinctly. Except when I answered, she didn't know what I was talking about. Or worse, sometimes she wasn't even home.

Oy, there it goes again. Have I ever told you how much I love windmills? That is why I have them plastered all over my other blog. And in almost every online profile I've created. Actually, that is a pretty funny story worth telling, too.

But first I have to get through this one.

The worst, however, was the stairs. We all heard the footsteps going up the stairs. Slowly, somewhat labored and quite distinctly. They were not like the footsteps of anyone else in the house. If you have stairs, you know what I mean. You know who is on the stairs by the sound of their step.

But these steps didn't belong to anyone in our family. And late at night, lying in bed, I would slowly count as they mounted the stairs one at a time. Complete with the creak on the fifth stair. Something was coming upstairs. Something always made it to the top of the stairs. Something always turned right, took two steps and then my door would shake.

Alrighty then. I am freezing cold. I think I'll go get a sweater. And turn on a light. Do you think the kids will notice if I raid the candy they got at church on Wednesday? Chocolate. Mmmm, is chocolate a pleasant distraction. Except I think they are all out of chocolate and there just isn't a point to the calories if it isn't for chocolate. So I'll be good.

Anyway, my brother, being my brother, was very annoying. One day, I couldn't take it anymore. So I went up to my room and locked the door. My brother, being my brother, didn't care about locked doors. He beat at it with a toy until he broke a hole through the door and busted the doorknob.

Great. Now my door only sort of closed.

And that night as I huddled under the blankets, I heard the footsteps slowly mount the stairs one at a time. Complete with the creak on the fifth stair. They made it to the top of the stairs. They turned right.

Except my door didn't rattle. It just swung open. And I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn't scream. I couldn't even breathe. I just sat there, clutching my blanket, too terrified to move.

But there was nothing there. Nothing at all.

And now I'm supposed to go to bed? Why did I just do that to myself? Have I told you how cute our baby gerbils are? Today, Kit Kat was lying on her back in her nest and we got to watch her nurse them for awhile. It was a special little moment. She is quite a devoted mother. So I guess I will leave you with that. And the recommendation to have read this early in the day in case you get like me about these things.

Actually, ghost stories don't bother me that much. Problem is, this one isn't just a story.