I used to live in California. The house we lived used to be owned by an old man who was supposedly killed in one of the rooms. Unfortunately the room he was killed in was my bedroom.
I tried not to believe the stories when I was younger. I thought that they were just tales that my parents were telling me to keep me from misbehaving. Then one night I couldn't fall asleep and neither could my cat, who just happened to be a black one. I was laying there petting her when I noticed something in my closet. When I tried to take a closer look my cat started to growl at me. I went back to her not wanting her to wake my brother on the top bunk. When I went to pet her she hissed at the closet door and backed out of my room to cower under the living room couch.
I looked at the closet again and I tried to scream, because there was a pair of eyes staring at me, but nothing came out. I tried to run but I couldn't move. Then this hideous smiling mouth formed under the evil eyes and I felt something cold around my neck. The next thing I new I was laying in my bed. My mother was hovering over me and she looked so relieved. When I tried to ask her what was going on I couldn't talk. My throat felt so sore. Remembering what had happened I got out of bed with my mother madly protesting, as I went to the bathroom. What I saw would haunt me for the rest of my life.
There were man sized finger bruises all around my neck.
Ever since that night I was never able to look into that closet. But the ghost wouldn't leave me alone he would start to appear during the day. Whenever he was around my cats would go crazy and my parents would start to fight. I was happy when we left and moved here to Illinois. But I don't think that the ghost of that poor old man will ever leave. I feel his presence everywhere I go and when an animal starts to act weird I can feel the cold grip of his hands and know he will never leave.