This Weeks Story
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Eleven Before Midnight
from "Aunt Margaret" by Brooke Legg
Hailing From: Winston-Salem, North Carolina
Where it Happened: Winston-Salem, North Carolina
I would like to start by saying that this story is completely true, and that it was told to me by my mother and father several years ago. Most of it happened to my mother, at my grandmother and grandfather's house one weekend when my family went to visit them. We lived in Pennsylvania at the time and so we rarely went there . . . . But first, before I tell you the rest, I need to give you a little background on "the house."
It is and was a two-story farmhouse aged about 100 years. My grandfather's family built it and he and all his brothers and sisters were born and raised there. He inherited it from his mom and dad when they passed on and he started his family in it.
Now, on with the story.
It was rather late the second night we were there and my parents had just tucked me, my brother and sister in for the night on the old living room floor. My mom and dad proceeded to go upstairs to bed. No one generally slept up there or even went up there on a regular basis, nonetheless there were two bedrooms set up for guests. They were sleeping in the front bedroom where my mom had slept as a young girl, so she generally felt at ease there. They crawled into bed after a long day and drifted off to sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night my dad got up to go to the bathroom, which was downstairs. When he walked out of the room he shut the door. Well, my mom was awakened by a sound in the hallway. She looked out the open door and just figured it was my dad going to the bathroom, until suddenly a young girl appeared before her in the doorway. She had long hair and was wearing a nightgown that was so long it was dragging on the floor. My mom was half out of it so she naturally thought it was me. She strained in the moonlight to get a better look at the figure that was now coming slowly toward her.
Without warning she felt an overwhelming sense that something wasn't right. The figure was almost hazy and the hair was a light color, almost blonde. Suddenly it dawned on her that she didn't know this child, but all the same it was coming toward her anyway. She felt herself backing up on the bed as the child got closer and closer. It began to call for her "Mommy,Mommy".
At this point, she was petrified as she realized that the child was reaching out to take hold of her foot. She couldn't back up any more and as the child got even closer, she realized more and more that the form wavering in front of her lacked any perceptible indication of real solidity.
She tensed as the child's grasp found her. Every muscle in her body ached as the child gently wrapped her tiny outstretched fingers around her trembling foot -- and then everything went blank.
The next morning when she woke up my mother was very achy, like she had run a marathon without training. She asked my father if he had gotten up to go to the bathroom and forgot to shut the door. He told her he did go to the bathroom but he was positive he shut the door behind him. My dad would know because he is usually fully awake when he gets up at night. So my mom just passed it off as a very vivid dream.
When we had finished with our breakfast, my mom told my grandpa about her dream and he told her something that made her hair stand up. He had a younger sister, who looked a lot like me, that used to sleep upstairs. In the bedroom across the hall from my mother's. She became ill at a young age from pneumonia and died at the age of 11. She died in her nightgown after having looked for her mother because she was delirious with fever. My grandpa always told my mother that she bore a striking resemblance to his mother.
The story was related to us on the way back to Pennsylvania in the car and it scared me so much at the time that even to this day I have never slept upstairs in that house, although no one has seen anything since then. But then again my mother has never slept up there again. My mother would never admit what she saw was a ghost until the other day when my cousin told her some startling news. She had gone to visit my great aunt's grave, the one who had died at such a young age. She noticed that her birthday was the same as my mother's. The connections had become so numerous that my mom could no longer deny it.
She had witnessed and been approached by something most people only hear about or read in books. She had most definitely seen a ghost, a ghost who had reached out and actually touched her.
Unfortunately both my grandparents have long passed away, but I am sure that they are smiling down from heaven, along with my great aunt, at my mother's discovery. Today, believe it or not, my mom and dad now live in that house, but they sleep downstairs! I have been told that I bear a striking resemblance to my aunt and have seen the picture to prove it.
. . . And, you better believe that I will never sleep upstairs either.
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