The house that I spent 6 yrs of my childhood in was well haunted. We had 3 ghosts. One was an older man, standoffish but protective.
The second was a lady who seemed to be in her late 20's or early 30's. She was very protective and very playful. The last one, just
thinking about it still gives me chills. This last one pretty much just stayed in the basement, while the other two would roam around
the house, entertaining and watching over my little brother and myself.
The things I remember most about that time of my life are playing with dolls and stuffed animals thta would move and talk on their
own, and the lady ghost - we called her "Aunt Mavis" - would sing me to sleep at night with songs like "Beautiful Dreamer" and others
of that era.
There were 2 long sets of stairs in that house, which dated from the turn of the century, and on the staircase from the top floor to
the main floor, my brother and I would ride down on chair cushions and plastic sleds, and anything else that looked like it might
slide well. At the time, my parents had a wheeled serving cart which my little brother would often sit on and pretend it was a car.
One day in particular, he'd been scooting it along, and he stopped about 3 feet from the top of the flight of stairs that went from
the main floor to the basement, and sat there, staring at the doorway. He pulled his feet up onto the tray that he was sitting on,
and the cart took off like a shot, and went straight down the stairs, which were unfinished at the time. From the way he'd screamed,
you'd have thought he was dying, and, after taking a nose dive down a 20-step flight of stairs in a metal cart and landing on a plain
cement floor, that he'd at least have some marks on him, but physically, he was ok. Terrified, but otherwise, alright.
You could feel the meanness down there at that time..... it was like standing in murky water over your head. The length of the floor
from the doorway that led to the basement to where the cart had originally been sitting sloped away from the stairwell..... if it had
simply been rolling, it wouldn't have gone down the stairs, and it wouldn't have gone as quickly as it did from the start had it
been natural rolling. Aunt Mavis and Mr Boo (the older man) were my little brother's protectors that day.
We moved out of that house a couple years later, but I often babysat for the family that moved in, and the ghosts would come out,
but it happened less and less over the years, until about 5 years ago. They said that they weren't needed here any longer and that
they were going home. I've been back to the house a few times since then, but they are no longer there. There are times to this day
when I miss Aunt Mavis singing me to sleep, or Mr Boo telling me a story, but I know they are in a good place now, where they belong.
As for the third, I don't care where it's gone to...... it was just plain mean. There was definitely a time when playing with dolls
at my house was the best thing to do, because at my house, any doll would walk and talk "by itself". =)
