I have heard many ghost stories when I was young, and I have always been fascinated with them. I loved to huddle around with my friends in a circle and let each other share spine-chilling thrillers, and true stories that had happened to them or a family member, even a close friend. Here are a few I shall never forget.
I remember, back in the sixth-grade, (I was about 12 years old), right after physical education, me and a few friends huddled together on the metal bleachers, with a huge tent over us. We all took turns telling experiences that us or a family member had experienced. Of course, it was always so muddled, since everyone would be shouting, "OH! OH! ME NEXT!" Eventually, we got to a friend of mine named Latiesh. (Her name is pronounced La-Ti-Shuh) We were also on the subject of Bloody Mary, a myth/folk tale. Latiesh had said that once her great-aunt was dressing her children, when one asked, "Mummy, is bloody Mary true?" To which she replied, "No. There is no such thing." As if in that exact moment, the lights flickered off, and her great aunt swears to this, but she saw a floating head and great glowing red eyes. Now, she has a slash down her back, and Latiesh claims to have seen it. I am not a full believer in this story, but I went along with it. I was only 12. As if at that exact moment, the sky darkened from sunny to cloudy, and rain began to pour. Thunder clapped, and we all raced out of the tent, never going back.
This was a story that I didn't fully believe, but I will tell another that I always will believe.
My great-grandmother passed on when I was about 5. I never knew her too well, since she lived in Wales, and I in the Bahamas. I did meet her once though, and being only three years old, she scared me. Nonetheless I learned to love her, even though she passed away.
A few days after her death, we traveled to my grandparents house to visit my grandmother. My grandfather was away on a trip, and she was staying by herself. While my parents and her sat around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and eating welsh cakes (Like crumbly shortcake cookies with currents and powered sugar sprinkled on top.) my grandmother immediately started telling a story, a lifelike dream she had experienced a few days before we came. "I swear to the holy father that she visited me around midnight on Wednesday night." "Who?" my father inquired, reading the newspaper. I, was sitting on the couch, reading. "Phyllis!" My grandmother exclaimed, "she visited me!" My father laughed. "You're crazy. She's dead. Dead people don't visit alive people." "BUT SHE DID." my grandmother was firm on what she had seen. "I was half-asleep in bed after watching my shows, and she walked right into the room, white and translucent. She floated over to me, who was in tears, and told me that she was okay. She said that I didn't have to worry about her. Then she left." By now I was staring at my grandmother. "She really did visit you?" I questioned. My grandmother nodded. My dad burst into laughter. "That is stupid! Mom are you feeling well?" "I AM FINE!" To this very day, she believes that she saw my great grandmother, and I am the only one of my family that believes her.
I forever will. My great-grandmother would of liked to tell my grandmother not to worry. All my family said she always wanted to put everyone to rest and not worry about her.
I believe that she is happily resting in peace, and one day I hope to visit her grave.
I hope that when I die, I will be able to tell all my living relatives and friends that I am happy.