< Back to Phoophie Talesback to phoophie talesMore Real Ghost Stories >

A Long Dead Boy A True Story of a Haunting

A Long Dead Boy

I'm Miranda. I live in London. I hate my house. There's some sort of ghost there, but nobody will tell me about the history. Well, this is what happened.

Some nights are worse than others, but this one I'll never forget. I was 10 years old. It was 11:30 at night, and I was in my room, reading. Suddenly, my light went off. I thought the light bulb had run out of energy, so I put down my book and lay down. Then there was a quiet knocking on the window next to my bed. I saw the reflection of a kid, about my age, except a boy.

I turned to my room, and saw nothing. I got out of bed and went over to my lamp. I felt something wet on the ground. I flicked on the lamp and saw a red stain where I was standing. Then it disappeared. It wasn't blood, the red was too bright, almost pink. Like paint. I scratched at my purple wall, and believe it or not, behind the purple paint was pink, the same dark shade that had been on my floor.

I ran out of my room, and tried to go into my parents room. But then I saw something that made me scream, though no sound came out. Ya see, our attic door is right above my staircase. Really high up, only my dad can reach it. And hanging from it was a noose. Ya know, the thing that people got hung on.

I ran back to my room, and there was a body in my bed. I grabbed a camera to take a picture, so when morning came, I would know if this had been a dream. I took a picture of my bed, and without looking, ran to get my mum.

Grumpily, she came up. I pointed to where the noose had been, but now it was just a piece of string, from my mums sewing kit. I ran up to my room, to show her the child's body. But now there was nothing. Then, as she was leaving the room, I remembered the camera. I grabbed it and turned it on, showing it to my mum.

There was no longer a photo of my bed. There was a photo of a teenage boy, a saw red mark around his neck, and pink paint over his torn clothes. His face was that of an angel, beautiful. I immediately fell in love with him.

A long dead boy.

My mum told me to stop joking around, but I saw she was extremely worried. I asked her what was wrong. All she said was 'he is back'. She wouldn't say who 'he' was.

I went to bed. I heard my parents talking late into the night, and later researched on the internet the history of my house. When I finally found a useful website, it said, 'this website has been closed down due to unpredicted events'. I know something's going on, and one way or another, I'm going to find out who the handsome boy who stole my heart is...

- Miranda

I Believe   
I Don't Believe   

< Back to Phoophie Talesback to phoophie talesMore Real Ghost Stories >