My parents were living in an historic home in eastern Arkansas. The house was big, with five bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. The attic had once been a bowling alley for the earlier tenants. You can see the hash marks where they kept score on the cedar walls. One night, as I lay in bed reading, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs beside my room. I turned to look in the hall, expecting to see my mom, dad or sister, but there was no one. I shrugged it off, thinking whoever had come upstairs went the other way to the empty rooms we used for storage. Moments later, I heard more footsteps coming up the stairs. I turned and looked again and my Mom was standing at the door. When I asked her if she had come up just moments earlier, she said no. I asked her if my sister or dad had come upstairs and she said that they weren't home. It wasn't until weeks after the episode that I leared that almost 100 years ago, a little girl died.....from falling down those stairs ! How it changed my life:It made me more aware of the fact that there could be ghosts residing with us in this world.
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