Footsteps In The Attic

I never really believed in ghosts. The childish stories that I grew up hearing never really caught my interest. But one night while I was sitting at home, the TV blasting old sitcoms, I heard a noise coming from upstairs. Not feeling really concerned about it, I went to check it out. (My house was really old and it made funny noises all the time.) My attic had been uninhabited since the previous owners about fifteen years ago. The only thing I used it for was storing boxes and other unwanted stuff.

When I got up there the room was so dark I couldn't see a thing without a flashlight. The smell of mildew and wood rot hung in the air like a heavy fog. I looked down at the floor and was shocked by what I saw: There was a set of boot prints trailing through the dust and ending at the wall. Like I said, no one had been up there for almost fifteen years, so needless to say I was somewhat freaked out. But I decided to ignore it and go back downstairs and watch TV.
About an hour later I heard another sound coming from upstairs. The sound was like heavy shoes stomping on the weak wooden floor upstairs. At first I tried to write it off to my imagination but soon the sound become definite and unbearable. I grabbed the flashlight and went to check it out.
The thumps got louder and louder as I got closer and closer. I cautiously opened the door and screamed and dropped my flashlight when I saw the most horrifying thing I've ever seen in my life. It was the silhouette of a hanging man with a gaping mouth, rotted skin and bulging eyes. I ran downstairs and waited with my knees against my chest for someone to get home. When they did I clung to them and told them exactly what I saw. They got the flashlight and went to check but when they did they only saw the normal cluttered boxes that inhabited the attic. Even the boot prints were gone.
To this day, they still don't believe I saw what I saw. But I know that I did see it. It's the one thing I know that I will never forget.