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[Name Withheld Upon Request] - Littleton, Colorado - 1987
My family moved into this house in Colorado in 1980. I was 11 years old at
the time. Immediately I learned there are such things as ghosts. It would
say my name every night when I went to bed, and I would just lay there
shaking, thinking "What was that?"
Many things happened over the years with this ghost. Most notably every
night we would hear someone digging in the rocks on the side of the house.
Even with three feet of snow on the ground! Of course when we would look the
next day there would be nothing dug up. This is the encounter I want to talk
about, however.
I was sitting downstairs just chilling, watching TV, and the ghost was
probably trying to scare me in one way or another. After seven years with
this thing, I didn't get scared anymore, it just made me angry that it was
trying to scare me. Anyway, I'm tired, I turn out all the lights, and run up
the stairs with this thing chasing me like it always did. I get into my room
and shut the door, my heart racing a bit, getting ready for bed. Then it
occurs to me I have left something downstairs that I cannot let my mother
see. Probably a pot pipe or something. So I open up the door to go
downstairs, and I swear this ghost is standing right in front of me. A huge
rush of cold and fear hit me and I shut the door, scared silly. It left me
breathless for a minute. What a horrible feeling. And yet an even worse
feeling was when I told myself it didn't matter how scared I was, I had
to open the door back up and go downstairs to get my stuff. Eventually the
fear of my mother overcame my fear of the ghost, and I opened up the door
(nothing there this time). I turned on the hall light and retrieved my gear.
I remember thinking maybe I scared the ghost too, because I felt nothing on
the run back upstairs. Like I said, many things happened to me and my
brothers and sister over the years at this house. Never my mom, though (I
know she did hear the digging). I think the ghost was afraid of her too.
