Camping and Childhood
I have always been into ghosts and spend a lot of my time studying them, which is why I often look forward to having contact with them. Even as a child, I was fond of them, which brings me to my first story.
Recently, I have learned that someone died in my childhood home. I was never told what room this happened in, what type of death it was (murder, natural causes, etc.), who it was, or any other information from my parents, but after hearing this from my older brother, I wish I had been told.
When I was a very young girl, I oddly enjoyed being in my room, and even got into trouble just to be sent to my room. Nobody, including me, really understood this, until one day when my brother followed me in. We were very close, so I never minded him coming into my room, but he said it was different than my regular ignorance to his entering. He said I would be in more of a trance state. My eyes would be seem to be staring nowhere, and he would hear me mumble, like I was whispering trying to tell someone a secret. Then I would randomly snap out of it and not even remember it.
Another thing that happened to me was at a camp when I was younger, maybe 12. There were these rumors of an elderly man that lived in the woods. He went by the name Fredd (yes, two D's, and to this day I don't know why). He sounded interesting. It turns out the rumors weren't really rumors. He really did exist. He wasn't mean, but he had a certain bitterness to him, which we later discovered was because two boys (it used to be a mixed gender camp, but is now all girls) had stolen his dog (his only companion) and decided later to kill it and bury it in the horse graveyard (horse camp). Well Fredd had been in the woods for a while, but one Thursday night, decided to come down to the camp fire and have some fun with the girls. A friend and I stayed behind to make sure the fire went out so a forest fire wouldn't start. Fredd stuck behind to tell us stories.
My friend had twisted her ankle earlier when she was getting off of her horse, and had been using a cane that we found in the bunk house earlier. When the fire was out we said our goodbye's to Fredd and I helped my friend up and gave her her cane. Fredd also walked with a cane, and thought I had mistakenly taken his cane for her. When I kindly pointed out that his cane was lying next to his feet, he yelled at us and said that wasn't it and his cane was the one we had and he knew this because it was the cane his father carved for him and put his name around the handle. We checked and sure enough it wasn't there, so I assured him that the one by his feet was his. He was furious and also suddenly FLOATING! His eyes had turned red and his skin was pale. I realized that this was not a good thing. I grabbed my friend and carried her over my shoulder. I knew she couldn't run because of her ankle, but I also knew we needed to leave fast. Maybe that was a mistake, because he could fly faster than I could run with a 12-year-old draped over my shoulder. I ran as fast as I could, dodging horses in the pasture and trees in the forest, (he didn't need to dodge the trees, he could go right through) and jumped right over the fence to the cabin. When I got inside, set my friend on my bunk and together we explained to the other girls what happened. Another friend shook my shoulder and told me to look at the cane. The letter "F" was carved into the handle. I thought it was odd because he said his entire name, Fredd, was on the handle. When we woke up in the morning, sure enough, the line of the last "d" was appearing, after the letters "FRED" had already been finished.
I haven't spoken to any of my friends from that camp in months, but I'm sure they haven't forgotten either. Also, I'd bet my brother hasn't forgotten his experience either.