When I was younger, we had a bit of a joke around the house that there was a ghost living there, which started from the people who sold the house to my parents who told my parents that a man named Chris had either died in the house or died at the hospital, but lived in the house prior to when we moved in. When things went missing, or stuff happened that couldn't be explained, we'd just go "Oh! Darn you, Christopher!", I doubt any of us really believed it was a ghost or anything though, just your average missing things and such.
So, one day when I was around eight years old, my three cousins (ages nine, eight, and six) were over at my house and we were playing upstairs. At one point I went to the attic door and suggested we should go up there and see what there is. They all quickly refused because they were afraid to go. Finding their fear stupid, I swung open the door while still facing them and pointed back and just told them "There's nothing to be afraid of! It's just an attic!" then I at them and I see them looking up the stairs in shock and horror, the youngest one begins crying and runs off. So I turn around and there's a man standing at the top of the steps. A man that I have never seen before in my life. So I quickly shut the door and we played somewhere else.
I have since then, returned to the attic, I'm not sure how soon, but that was the first, last, and only time that had happened.
Written by Kiki, Copyright 2009 Ghost-Space.com
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