Throughout my life I've had odd things happen to me. Not so much as say some of my family. We never doubted the existence of ghosts, but my mother never encouraged us to think of it much. She believed that dwelling on it could make it worse. I agree, but my sis and I loved discussing it even to this day.
When I was 12 we moved to a new house out in the woods. It was a double wide trailer but was not bad for a trailer. We knew that spirits could be tied to objects or houses but we just had no idea that they could stick with the land. Not long after we moved into the house my brother started fussing about his door being opened and closed many times during the night. Since he wasn't all that worried about it and rest of the family didn't think much about it either I soon forgot.
It was about the middle of the summer of 1994 when something first happened to my sister and me. We used to play with our toy ponies daily. That day her friend, Darlana, came over and we had spent hours coming up with new plots to take our ponies through. That night we decided to leave our ponies on the coffee table all doing something to go along with our stories. We placed ponies who were lovers in what looked like a kissing pose or close embraces. Some were looking away from one another because they didn't like each other, etc. We then went to bed.
The next morning, as we settled down to start playing we noticed a very big change. All the ponies had been moved. The funny part was ponies that hated each other went from facing different directions to kissing. I don't remember too much more of the change but it all had a humorous quality. It was as if whoever changed them had been listening intently to us playing and knew who was who of our collection. We immediately decided it was our older brother who hated our ponies, and we immediately assailed him with accusations. He flat refused all of it, stating that he would never even want to touch them. This sounded right to me. After all he would never have known which pony was who or what. The closest he had come to knowing who any of them were was the time he almost wrenched off one's head.
My mother was also totally out of the picture, as far as suspects go, she never paid attention to the stories we made up about them. She was also not the type to ever do anything like that. It just wasn't like her in the slightest. Now that there was no one else to ask my sister and her friend claimed it must have been our brother. I myself was doubtful. After a few hours of discussing the matter they finally sided with me that it must have been something completely different.
We buzzed with the thought that it was a ghost and left them out more nights. The second morning of trying this we had a couple changed but it never really happened again. Many strange things transpired in that house over time, but I think that one was my favorite. It felt like having an audience to our stories. I never felt anything really mean-spirited in that house. Though there were times I was scared almost pantless, but it always turned out to be funny in the end. I am still convinced to this day that all we had, and still have to this day, was a spirit with a good sense of humor...
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