We travelled around a lot when I was growing up. When we moved to Minnesota, my parents found a beautiful Spanish style house that we all fell in love with. The ceilings were beamed, there were wall length mirrors which reflected the beautiful rooms, the front door looked like it should be on a castle, it was gorgeous. But no one had lived in it for a while. Being adventurous sorts, that didn't bother us, we figured we had fallen into a real deal.
One night I was the only at home. Mom and Dad were down the street playing cards and my brother was spending the night at a friend's house. I was up in my room reading. I felt as if I was being stared at, which is a really creepy feeling when you are alone. I looked up and in the doorway to my bedroom was the disembodied head of a bearded man. It seemed like it just floated there forever before I screamed, I'm sure it wasn't that long. It disappeared or I looked away and it vanished. After some time, I picked up the telephone and called the neighbors' house where my parents were and asked for my mother. When she picked up I asked her to come home. Actually, I whispered it. After I hung up, I guess the fear hit me. Mom told me that she could hear me screaming half a block away.
We later found out that the house had been built on the site of a Sioux massacre. It's assumed that the head I saw was one of the settlers.