It is popular belief that 13 is an unlucky number, well for me it is 8. 8 years old, just made a real best friend. I'm the winner of almost every squares game (its an irish game, but won't go into the rules. Yet if you're interested ask me and I'll tell you).
Life was great, I wasn't wasting a minute of it and my best friend Stephen had just invited me to stay for two nights in his house. It was actually perfect timing, because my parents were off to see a neil diamond concert in the UK. So off I went to Stephenès house down beside a mental home called the Grange Gorman. This actually scared me. I asked his parents if the patients could escape?, and they said no. Being the inquisitive child I asked, "how do you know"? Simple answer was because they both worked there. Good enough for me. Little did I realize that my nightmare was already around me.
First night was like any other (except for the fact that I wasn't in my family home), we ate popcorn, talked about computer games (main console at the time was a commodore 64), fought and wrestled each other, and drank way too much cidona and coke for our little bodies to cope with. Stephen headed to the toilet while I held on for dear life and played my game, until I heard footsteps behind me. "Right my turn!" I proclaimed while turning around, expecting to see Stephen, but unfortunately no one was there and the steps I heard had stopped. If I knew then that floorboards warped, and the wood creaked because of this I wouldn't have stood where I was, scared as I was.
The bathroom door opened, spilling light into the hallway and the sound of the flushing toilet echoed out also. Stephen emerged and asked if I was ok. I didn't answer. I was still trying to decide if a shadow (I thought I saw) could be darker than a black unlit hallway. I shrugged my shoulders in response to his question and was brought rudely back to reality as pain shot through me and I remembered that nature was calling. Nothing else happened that night.
Second night, almost the same as the first, except we didn't have as much popcorn coke or cidona, but the commodore 64 was in full swing. At about midnight I was peckish, and I asked my best friend if I could get something to eat from the kitchen. Of course it wasn't a problem. I asked Stephen if he wanted anything brought back to him, and he said no. I walked into the hall and down the stairs, treading carefully so as not to wake anyone up. I reached my destination through the darkness and entered. The light from the moon lit up the room in an eerie silver. The black and white tiles which decorated the floor shone, and there, in the centre of the room was my goal, the fridge.
I walked over, my body shivering because the tiles were cold, and opened the fridge door. Immediately I was blinded by the fridge light. My eyes took a few minutes to adjust, and when they finally did, the kitchen door closed itself. I turned, blinded by the light of the fridge, and scared as looked into the darkness. The moonlight also seemed to have vanished. My body felt like it was floating and the back of my neck was starting to feel warm.
Then I heard my name, "ROB"! It was Stephen. He called again, "ROB"! But I couldn't answer. I'd lost my voice to fear. I remember crying. My mind was filling up with horrible images. Especially from the night before, the darker than dark shadow. "ROB"! Stephen again. Gathering courage I took three steps toward the door but stopped because I heard my name again, from behind. My stomach sank. Tears blurred my vision and my heart was pounding (after this night I knew what fear was) "Rob"! Barely a whisper, but not from a voice I knew. "Hey Rob"! It mocked. I wanted to run but couldn't.
Then everything felt like it was over, my life, my dreams, everything, because a cold hand reached out and gripped my shoulder, tightly. Once again the man spoke this time in my ear, then slowly his face came around from my shoulder and went directly in front of mine, and smiled at me. Then it was over. Just like that. But, I remembered never taking my eyes off of the door, even when I saw through the ghost. I know that that's what gets me the most. The fact of seeing through someone. I left that night and stayed with my grandparents who only lived four minutes walk from my home in cabra.
I have told this story to certain people, who have had experiences. And every time I tell it, it makes it easier to cope with. So please read and re read. There is a second part of this which happened a decade later, and in that story I'll describe the stranger from this one (I've seen him three times) but they are other stories.
My only question is has anyone else seen the same ghost more than once? And is this, regular?
By the way I must say something else, Stephens' family had to move out of that home because of this ghost. They too had experiences, names being called and so on. They moved across the road where they now happily live, but that house is still there, empty. No one moves in.
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