This is a story I don’t tell very often. I grew up in Oldham County Kentucky, on Dawkins Road in an area called the Devil’s Backbone because of its higher elevation compared to the surrounding countryside. We lived in an old house that was supposedly built before the Civil War. It has been torn down some 20 years now.
Forty+ years ago, when I was around 12 or 13 years old, I had an experience with the paranormal. One night while in bed I felt a strange sensation like someone was staring at me. I was lying on my side and turned around and saw a young man with a mustache in 19th century attire looking right at me. I could see him clearly because of the faint porch light coming in through the window. I looked at him for a few seconds until I lost my nerve and ducked under the covers. When I looked back a second later he was gone.
About two years later I was upstairs in my brothers bedroom looking through his albums. I was alone in the house. I heard someone running up the steps very quickly. I opened the door thinking my brother was home but there was nothing there but a blast of cold air. Needless to say I ran out of the house until everyone else came home.
All of this became even more interesting due to a conversation my Dad had with an elderly gentleman in LaGrange. The old man had told my dad that he had lived in the house when he was a boy and that the house was “hainted”. He had said that a young musician had committed suicide there a very long time ago by hanging himself out of the second story window, which happened to in be my brothers room. This would also explain why my dad and grandmother would sometimes get up in the middle of the night to turn off the radio but there would be no radio playing and everyone else would be sound asleep.
When my Grandmother came to visit she would stay in my brothers room. One morning she came down to tell us that the rocking chair had been rocking by itself, but it really didn’t seem to bother her very much.
Sent in by hardrail2012, Copyright 2010 TrueGhostTales.com