There is never any proof. That is the most frustrating thing about ghost stories, isn't it? But so many people have one. Mine is fairly tame. My hubby, one the other hand--
I grew up with the creepy delight of monsters and vampires, Halloween costumes and Trick or Treating, all very classic Baby Boomer activities. Loved Halloween, loved the candy. My mother liked to dress me in cute costumes like Little Red Riding Hood. Since I grew up in Billings, Montana, the costumes included a winter coat.
When I was in college in Billings another girl and I rented a basement apartment near the college. The old lady we rented from told us not to be alarmed if we saw an old man down there, the basement had once been her husbands' shop. He died some years ago, but renters sometimes saw him in the basement.
Patty and I dismissed this nonsense.
That fall, I was once again plagued by strep, bronchitis, asthma and a flare up of Epstein Barr, which happened throughout my teens and twenties when I got run down. Luckily we lived near the hospital, where Patty had a part time job. She helped me walk to the ER for many
I went to bed and drank a little water now and then, and missed a bunch of classes. My parents decided I needed to live on campus, which I wasn't happy about. But getting through finals wore me out, so I crashed in bed, waiting for the parents to arrive. They were going to help me pack and set me up in the dorms before Christmas. Patty went home for Christmas and had a roomie lined up.
Yup, sick again, running a fever, and
Sometime in the night I was woken by a man speaking my name very
More than a year later, close to college graduation, I lived in yet another apartment with two girls. This was in a regular apartment complex, not a basement. It had nice windows overlooking the north side Rimrocks, sandstone cliffs.
In the early spring I was once again sleeping. I don't recall being sick, just sleeping. I had the smaller bedroom to myself, my
A sharp voice called my name, that same cracking bullet quality as I had heard before. My eyes flew open I. I glimpsed a man, dressed in a dark overcoat and hat like business men wore with their suits, like my dad wore. He vanished. It was daylight. I don't recall his face, but he was not a young man.
Same ghost? I think so. I don't know what he wanted, or if he was trying to help or harm. Maybe I was having an asthma attack or quit breathing? Don't know.