According to Wikipedia a ghost is the soul or spirit of a deceased person often capable of appearing in visible form. Movies and television are filled with ghosts. They make for some entertaining programs. Some shows depict them as malevolent while others show them as peaceful and just wanting to move on. The best ghost stories are the ones where you don’t know the ghost’s true intentions at first. Even better ones keep you guessing about the ghost’s true nature until the very end. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good ghost story. Or read a good ghost story.

Some people believe in ghosts. Some don’t. I do. Do you have to believe in them to enjoy the stories out there? I don’t think so but it probably helps. I believe in ghosts because I lived with one for seventeen years. My sister believes too, though our parents don’t. They never heard her. I heard her. My sister, my cousin, our friends all heard the ghost, felt her presence. We never actually saw her. There was the sound of footsteps in the hallway when no one else was home. The extra good night in a voice no one recognized at my slumber party. The sound of the typewriter being used when no one else was home. Things a teenage girl would like would go missing – my leather jacket, lipstick, eye shadow – only to reappear later on when you weren’t looking for it. A teenage girl’s voice yelling in my ear in the middle of the night waking me up from a dead sleep. My friends who were in the kitchen having a conversation with her thinking it was me in the living room. I was upstairs. She talked to my boyfriend when he was in the basement. He never went to the basement alone again.

Coincidence? All those things can be explained scientifically? Maybe. But why do the scientists want to spoil all the fun? Scientific knowledge is important yes. But it can’t explain everything. Until the unexplained happens to them they won’t get it. And even then they’ll try to prove it was explainable. I believe in science. I like science. But I also like thinking there are ghosts out there. Our ghost was nice, yet mischievous. I actually missed her when we moved. I always felt safe in the house.

We have no idea who she was except she sounded like a teenage girl. When I searched the attic I found old pictures of the family who had lived there before us. I never did find out if any of them were her.

Now the only ghost in my life is the one I’m writing about. I must get back to her for a bit before I go to work!

Until next time…

Cindy