When I was somewhere between age of eight and ten, a terrible accident happened to the family who lived in the house behind us. They were having guests over for a cook out on the grill when it started to get exceptionally windy. So windy in fact that a tree ended up falling and landing on the chest of the father. Paramedics were unable to save him.
During one of the nights in the following week, I woke up to the blurry image of a gray man standing outside my doorway. Utterly terrified I tried my hardest to scream for my mom but I could neither speak nor move. In a matter of ten seconds the image seemed to run away, and for the life of me I still recall footsteps. As soon as it was gone I could move and speak, but it took a good hour for me to get the nerve to run to my parents room upstairs.
I didn't make the connection to the father killed by the falling tree for almost a week. I'm very skeptical about these things, and I've never truly known what to think about all this. For all I know I could have imagined it all, but it just seems too vivid to say.
Sent in by Quinn George, Copyright 2009
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