I was never a believer of ghosts, that I guess is why it started. I was around the age of 13, my family was temporarily staying at my grandmother's house. I was attending middle school, and where we live school started very late in the morning, so for a few hours a day I was left alone.
One morning I woke at 7 o'clock and started to get ready for school, everyone had left for work or other activities. I walked into the kitchen and made breakfast, I got a glass down and went to the fridge to get the juice. I began to pour, when something caught my eye; above the counter there is a window that looks into the hallway that leads to the back bedrooms. My eyes thought they saw someone walking past the window, so I left the kitchen and peered into the hallway, there was no one.
So I went back into the kitchen to eat breakfast, I returned the juice and grabbed my cereal. This time I looked back at the window, and there stood a man; he was rough looking as though he cut logs for a living. I did the only thing I could think of, I screamed, and ran out of the kitchen; dropping my breakfast on the floor. I ran into my grandmother's room and slammed the door, I prayed that he would take what he wanted and leave.
The thought of calling 911 never crossed my mind, I waited for about fifteen minutes before I left the room. I called out that I was going to call the police, but there was no noise. I searched the house, but there was no one there, the front and back doors were locked. Afraid, I called my mom, I told her what I saw; and like any good parent she told me that it was nothing and to get ready for school. I was only to happy to leave the house.
School ended too fast, I arrived home on full alert. My grandmother was home, and I thought it would be proper to tell her of the strange man I saw in her home. I described the man I saw, and she listened without interrupting. After my story was done, how the man seemed to vanish, she slightly chuckled.
She explained that my grandfather, my mother's father, had died when my mom turned 13. He had died of a heart attack and on several occasions she had seen her late husband walking along the hallways and standing in bedrooms.
The house was his dream house, he built himself, and it seemed to her that after he died he would not leave. She was afraid at first, but simply concluded that he was watching over his family.
After that day I would see him, sometimes he would just be standing in the hallway, or in the dinning room. My grandmother and I were the only ones that he would appear to, but my family (after a while) accepted that we weren't crazy, and was seeing the ghost of my grandfather, whom I have never met.
I only saw him one more time, when I was 18, my grandmother was selling the house and I was helping her move. I had gone into the kitchen and there he was at the same window I had first seen him five years ago. He stood there for a moment and then simply walked away, he was gone by the time I reached the hallway.
We warned the family about my grandfather's ghost, but they are still living there; so I guess my grandfather has moved on. But, I am believer in ghosts today, I mean I have to be.
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