So my family travels to Charleston, South Carolina almost every summer. Mostly because of the heat, scenery, heritage, and southern hospitality. On the second year, we decided to take in a few tours of the old houses on the famous Battery Street. We were all amazed, especially my mom who's a big history know-it-all.
The tour ended in the basement, where the kitchen was. They told us that this is where the African slaves worked. When everyone left, I wanted to stay a minute and look at some artifacts. Suddenly, I get an uneasy feeling, as if someone was watching me. Of course, when I turned around, no one was there. Then I get a rush of cold air, which was weird because there were no windows open, and it's always hot in the low country. I didn't want to stay, I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, to rejoin my family.
When exiting the property, I saw something. There in the basement window, I saw a face of a young black slave. I didn't know what to think, at first I just stood there watching her, and her watching me. She looked so sad, as if she wanted my help, to not be a slave anymore. I didn't tell my family, I wouldn't think they'd believe me. My paranormal experience made me want to visit many other homes in Charleston, to catch a glimpse at any other spirits, and I did.