I am fourteen and live on a large farm, about one thousand acres, in Tidewater Virginia. The main house on the property was built in the late 1700s and was added on to numerous times and is now 12, 000 square feet in size. This house is now abandoned, and has been for the last decade, since my grandfather's death. There are many other buildings on the property, including my house, which was once the chauffeur's residence, and two still visible foundations of small brick houses. One of these is obviously much older than the main residence, the bricks being of irregular shape and made of local clay. With the brief history of the property written, it is time to move on to the ghosts.
The Gray Man
The Gray Man is a passive spirit. I first heard about him through my father, who encountered him one night while plowing a field. While rounding a clump of trees curiously located in the middle of the field, which we call "The Slave's Graveyard," his headlights swept across the field and for a moment, the figure of a man wearing a waistcoat, wide brim hat, and trousers, all in gray, was briefly illuminated. My father sacrificed his remaining work time trying to find an explanation for his sighting. He backed up and looked, but the figure was gone. He completely went backwards and rounded the graveyard in the same way again, but he didn't see the figure. He has not seen The Gray Man since.
My mother also saw The Gray Man, this time in the daylight. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, standing by the old barn near my house. She looked back, but he was gone.
We like to think that The Gray Man is a former owner of the property who likes to check in on us to make sure we are treating his land well. He has never attempted to contact anyone in the family, and has never been any trouble. We respect his boundaries, and he respects ours.
When I was little, ages 2-4, I had a friend that I would always play with. This friend could only be seen by me, and only I could talk to him. I was an only child at the time, so you may dismiss this as me having an imaginary friend. However, my parents once asked me for more information on the boy. I promptly told them his name (which they have forgotten), and that he had lived by water but was killed in a fire that destroyed his house. My parents were stunned, as I was only two at the time and probably didn't even understand the very words I was saying. I continued to interact with my friend until I turned four, at which point I apparently lost interest in him.
When I was eight, I woke up in the middle of the night, and, bemused, I looked around my room wondering what had woken me up. When my eyes fell on my T-Rex toy, one of my favorites, its head turned to look back at me. I didn't allow the thing back in my room for months, and when I finally brought it back in I stowed it safely in a drawer. I now think that this was merely my old friend trying to get my attention. I have not had any contact with him since.
Both me and my parents view the little boy I made friends with as a nice little fellow who died a tragic death. He was always friendly, sometimes mischievous, and I would like to have another interaction with him so I can learn more about his life.
Possibly Another Ghost
Recently I was out in the woods hunting for old bottles, which had become my favorite pastime, and stopped to examine a small item more closely. While I was bent over, I thought I heard the laughter of a child. I'm not sure of the gender but I think it was a girl. I tried to speak to the ghost, but, after not getting any audible responses (I need to get an EVP recorder), I gave up and continued my hunt for bottles.
In conclusion, the ghosts we share this land with all seem to be gentle, friendly ones who have no interest in harming us. They have become as much a normal part of life as the old pines and birches that frame our farm.