True Ghost Stories and Hauntings 2

in two days so I was planning to spend my extra time studying in my room. I got everything set up on my desk—all my work to research plus a drink and a few snacks to keep me going. As I sat staring at my work all I could do was think of my grandfather and why he seemed to be on my mind so much. I knew I’d been feeling his presence, but I just thought that was because I missed him so much. What my mom had told me was a nice thought, but did I really believe in ghosts? I kind of sat on the fence on that one and figured I was just making mental adjustments for him being out of my life. It couldn’t be any other way. Even if there was such a thing as being a spirit, why would anyone hang around what they’d left? If there was life after, wouldn’t there be a better place to go? I was uncertain, but if I dwelled on it too much, I’d never get anything done.

I’d been having strange dreams about my grandfather since he passed, dreams where I was older and we did things that I’d never seen before. Some of the dreams were of things we’d shared but with subtle differences, giving me a strange feeling—almost like he didn’t die. I never paid a lot of attention to them because dreams were weird to begin with and I wasn’t going to try to make any sense of them. I just knew I felt a little odd the next morning when I woke up, and those were generally the days that something reminded me of my grandfather.

I thought long and hard over the next few years about what I was experiencing and these were just a smattering of all the things that happened. A moved item, suggestions in my head that made me make the correct decision, smelling him in my room, hearing his voice, and at times feeling like he was sitting right next to me. It gave me comfort, but I began to think that I couldn’t accept his death and was subconsciously keeping him with me by manifesting these occurrences. I was young and had no experience with matters like this, so it took some time to put it together. He was there with me and making sure I was OK and doing the best things for myself as I grew up. When I made that realization, something else happened that changed my life.

When I accepted that he was with me in spirit as I lay in bed thinking about it, his voice filled my mind again.

“I love you, son. I will always be with you looking after you but it’s time to move on and be a man. You don’t need my help anymore. Take care of yourself.”

This was a lot to take in and at first I thought I’d dreamed it, but when I sat up in bed to collect my thoughts, I no longer felt that he was with me. At least not so obviously as he was before. He was right; I’d done all the right things and was ready to move forward and become the man I am today. Without his help I may not have followed the right roads, even if I did stray a few times, and would not have ended up where I am now—happy and content with a loving family, a fantastic job, and many wonderful friends.

He was no longer there giving me hints and suggestions but I felt him. I felt him in my heart and knew he was around, watching out for me. That gave me comfort and I always smiled when I thought of him and the things we did together. I occasionally talk to him and I feel a warmth that lets me know he’s still with me. I will forever treasure the time we had together and look forward to seeing him again.

I sat against the wall, knees scrunched up and my blankets pulled up around my neck. I couldn’t stop shivering even though I wasn’t cold … I was terrified. My eyes wouldn’t focus and I couldn’t take them away from my bedroom door, waiting for it to show up again. I had a feeling this was it, this was the last time, and he was coming for me. I just wish I knew how something like this could happen. Nobody believed me; I didn’t believe it myself for a while.

“No, no, no, no! Please! Go away! Go away!” I couldn’t believe what was happening. I’d talked to my friends about this and they thought I was crazy. Even my parents didn’t believe me.

“What am I going to do?” I mumbled to myself. I could feel that he was almost here and my heart sank; no one would be here to help me. “How could this be happening?”

The temperature dropped and I knew he was close. I couldn’t take his torment and cold touches again. I shut my eyes, not wanting to face what I was sure was going to happen.

Crocodile tears started running down my cheeks as I thought I’d never see my family again. I could feel the evil emanating off of it stronger than I ever had before. Why me? I thought. What did I do to deserve this? I never even used to believe in ghosts and now I have one haunting and hurting me? I wanted to get up and run—wanted to scream as loud as I could—but I couldn’t move or talk. All I could do was watch.

I couldn’t stop shaking and my tears made it hard to see, but I was thankful for that; I didn’t want to watch. Each time he got closer and closer. I didn’t know what he wanted, and I didn’t think I’d be able to get away this time. He looked so evil—like he wanted to hurt me or kill