Whether you are sitting around a campfire in a dark forest or relaxing on your sofa in the comfort of your own home, a good scary ghost story can give anyone a fright. Even if you are sceptical about the existence of spirits, this story is guaranteed to leave you checking underneath your beds at night.
We strongly advise against reading this particular ghost story alone, as you will likely need some company to comfort you afterwards. In terms of company, we recommend a good friend or family member, not someone who is going to jump out at you for a laugh at the first chance they get.
My siblings and I have experienced many strange events in our family home over the last 12 years, by strange I mean haunted. Our house is a standard concrete building, first constructed in 1904, with no haunted history that we knew of. This particular story is a family favourite to tell, it begins around 10 years ago, and it was experienced by my brother.
My brother was in an alternative rock band, they played Spanish rock music and would practice in the garage of our house. The band would play most evenings until around 8 pm. This is the time when I would return from a long day at work and head straight to sleep.
It was late in the year, around fall time, when it was getting dark in the late afternoon. The band were wrapping up their practice for the day, then one of my brothers’ friends invited everyone back to their house. They began to load the equipment into my brother’s truck, which was a long task as the garage is not exactly easy to exit. You are required to go up the stairs at the rear of the basement, down the hallway, past the kitchen and lounge, and then you are at the front door.
The band had loaded up, and we’re all in the truck ready to leave, my brother was on his way out when he had to take a sharp turn back in as he realised he had left his readily prepared food down in the basement. Bear in mind that the basement is a mess, with all of our heating and electrics systems placed in the centre of the room. As he enters the basement, he scans around, his gaze finds the food, and he heads towards it. The moment he reaches for it, something appears in the corner of his vision.
At first, it is unidentifiable. It is a dark figure with no distinguishable features. My brother’s heart stops momentarily, his stomach turns, and he is flooded with fear. My parents prepared us for being faced with a spirit, they taught us to stand our ground and either pray to it or command it. He chose aggression, commanding it to leave now.
Without a second thought, he stormed back to the rear of the basement and up the stairs, not once looking back to confirm what he had just seen. He locked all the doors behind him and turned off the lights. He thanked God that the front door was still ajar and there were street lights outside, which were providing some comfort that he was not fully alone any more.
Not only that, but he was just stepping out the front door, the truck in sight, when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. The touch was light enough that it didn’t hold him back, but noticeable enough to send shivers down his spine. Without looking back, he paced towards the front gate with his food still safely slotted under his arm. We have a considerably large front garden, which is unfortunate in this case, as my brother is forced to walk alone down the dark garden path. He eventually makes it to the truck and is completely relieved to be reunited with his band, although he doesn’t let this show too much. His thoughts immediately downplay what he had just witnessed, as he reassures himself, he was probably imagining it.
My brother gets into the driver’s seat of his truck and prepares to drive out of the driveway of the house. This is when one of his friends objects “hold on, are you not going to wait for your brother?” my brother replies “um, we’ll be waiting around 3 hours as he’s still at work. Why’d you ask? Did you see him come back early?”
His friend then questions, “Well then who was that walking behind you when you had left the house?”