The Dog Upstairs

Okay, I guess this is a short one. But I still get the chills twenty years later...

We were playing in my room in the middle of the day. My best friend, Peter and I. We were nine at the time. We had the big house to ourselves because my parents were out shopping.

It was a three-story building, with the kids rooms downstairs and the livingroom and kitchen on the first floor and my parents bedroom on the top floor. Suddenly we stopped whatever game we were consumed by and looked at each other. We had both noticed something was wrong. We were hearing something. The sound of my dog, Buster, walking around upstairs. It was a sound I had grown up with. the sound of paws pacing around on the floor. We listened to it for about five minutes and all of a sudden we were scared stiff. The reason we became so terrified was because Buster was in the room with us. He had been with us for the last hour. That made us ask ourselves: What the hell was upstairs then?

To this day I don't know where we summoned the courage from to go upstairs, armed with a baseball bat and a toy rifle. We found nothing. And we ended up taking a long walk, waiting for my parents to come home...

Nothing ever happened after that. It was a one time thing.. If I had been alone that afternoon, I would probably dismiss it a a childs over stimulated brain. But because we both experienced it and still talk about it, we know that there is more between heaven and earth...