By ladydeath 18 Comments
I have been trying to build up the courage to type this story out, because it creeps me out to this day......
Allow me to set the mood for those of you who are reading this. I lived in a house built in the 1930's. A French style home with a beautiful facade. In the early 1970's it was renovated to make more space. The original 1930's part was a living room, kitchen, one bedroom, and what we would consider a basement. The 1970's upgrade added two more bedrooms, the old kitchen turned dining room, a new kitchen, and two bathrooms. It made for a very beautiful home with lots of space and a homey feel.
Now that you know the household setting now to move onto the story itself. Believe in it or not it is entirely up to you!
My father and I were watching television when my mom came home late from work. She asked me to wash her uniform in the laundry room/basement for us. (she was Army by the way) Mom went straight to take a bath and then crashed in bed shortly after. I gathered up more dark clothes to wash with her uniform. Mom was asleep by the time I went into the basement to do laundry. Everything was normal as I put them in the washer with the soap and started the wash. I went back upstairs to watch some more television. After the show ended it was time to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer. Here is where it gets interesting. The normally warm basement grew very very cold. I began to shiver. I noticed something in the corner of my eye and looked to my left. The basement had a small area that led up under the house. In that area was a illuminated Indian standing sideways to me. As I stood frozen looking at him....HE turned and looked at me. He had a ghostly/blurry bluish white glow to him. On his head was the skin of a wolf. His eyes were sunk in and just empty. I could not see them. I yelped and ran upstairs so fast I tripped halfway up the stairs bruising my shin really bad. I hollered for my dad. He thought I was imagining things. We went down together after he coaxed me into it after awhile. The basement was the normally warm setting it had every other time I went down there.
I was upset, because my dad did not believe me. He just blew it off and made me finish the laundry as he went back upstairs to watch television. I threw the clothes as fast as I could into the dryer. I slammed the dryer door shut to get upstairs fast.
I walked downstairs after a half hour knowing the clothes would be dry. As I walked downstairs I called out, “Ok, Mr ghost I don't know what you want, but I don't want to hurt you, so please don't hurt me.” (I was a kid for crying out loud!) The basement was warm again, so I felt it was ok to go downstairs. I got the clothes out into the basket to carry them up as the cold freezing basement feeling came back. Again I scrambled upstairs to avoid it. Every since I saw the Indian in our basement doors on the older side of the house opened and closed. On several nights I had dreams of Indian dancing and singing. I asked a friend of the family who was Comanche. Tom (that was his name!) said the house was built on an Indian graveyard. Joy, I thought! I was freaky enough the ghost was there and then to find out the graveyard bit. In that house I slept with a night light on, because I found out in a book I read that ghost don't like lights. Yes I was that dorky as a kid. I was about 9 or 10 years old when I saw the Indian ghost. Believe it or not. I told my ghost story. ^_^ The whole ordeal sent a chill down my spine. I can watch or read ghost stories no worries, but to remember this one still creeps me out.