This story takes place in 1992, in springhill, louisiana. I was 9 years old. My mom, dad, and I had moved into this cute little house on some beautiful land in the country. The lady who owned the house had told my mom that the old man who lived there before us had walked in the door, one day after working in the yard, and died of a heart attack. She thought nothing of it. I over heard her and my dad talking about it a few months after we moved in. But I gave it no thought. And I knew after I went to bed my mom would come in and cover me up and after that she would shut my door.
Well a few months down the road, I wasn't in a deep sleep so I could hear my door open, and I thought it was my mom checking on me and one night I thought I would open one eye and peek to see my mom. My door opened and there was no one there, but I heard foot steps coming toward my bed and I closed my eye right quick. I felt my blanket covering me up, but there was no one there. And it happened a few times.
One morning before my mom got up to get me up for school, I heard her scream. She said there was an old man standing in front of her closet looking at her. She said he was about 60 and he was wearing a green and black flannel shirt and blue overalls. She called the lady that owned the house and asked "the old man that died here, do you know what he was wearing when he died?". She said "yes, he was wearing a green and black flannel shirt and blue overalls". My mom freaked out.
No one saw the ghost for a few weeks. It was 3 days after my birthday. I heard my door open again and no one was there and I felt my covers cover me up again. And every night when I went to bed, I would say good night grandpa. And I knew I was safe because I knew he was taking care of me.
Up until we moved from that house 13 years ago.