Ghost Encounters

By Gena Sysavath
Web Content Contributor

In the spirit of Halloween, I would like to tell you about an encounter with the neighborly supernatural. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. After-all, all my encounters were when I was younger. It might be that I’m superstitious, but I believe in many encounters that happen.

I grew up in a very small, close-knit neighborhood and I never thought anything of it. I had a small little park right next door, my elementary school was a minute bike-ride away and all my childhood friends live nearby.

It was, and still is, a very cozy place to grow up in. Yet, there’s always stories, urban legends and history within every neighborhood.

My neighborhood. Image by Gena Sysavath.

The Little Boy Who Talked

Now this tale came from my neighbor that had been living in the neighborhood long before my family moved in. The story is about a kid who used to live right next door to me. I actually completely forgot that he lived there before I was told this story, as I only vaguely remember him living there my first year into the neighborhood.

This boy, C.C., was only a couple years older than me. He was the lonely kid in the neighborhood, every other kid around was either around my age or younger. So, whenever you saw C.C., he was alone. At least, that’s what I thought.

My neighbor, A.C., was probably the youngest resident at the time and had always seem to get along with the kids in the neighborhood. I know I did; he was friendly and very handy as he would go place to place to help fix whatever needed to be fixed.

He apparently used to babysit C.C. because his parents would work all the time. Now, during these babysitting jobs, A.C. had began to notice something strange was going on with C.C.. The kid used to always stare at a certain spot down A.C.’s hallway, and no matter how much noise was going around him, C.C. would stay.

Every time anyone would walk down the hallway, C.C. would silence himself immediately. According to A.C., it wasn’t normal for C.C. to act that way. He would act like any other kid when they weren’t near the hallway. It was just the hallway that kept him scared.

This wasn’t the only thing about C.C. that had A.C. on edge. His parents would mention hearing the boy talk to himself through his bedroom and that it always sounded like he was having a conversation with someone. There were also times where A.C. would witness C.C. arguing with no one when they go outside to play. Maybe it was just an imaginary friend.

So, A.C. always thought that C.C. was a bit peculiar, but he wasn’t a bad kid. Nevertheless, there was one day that truly scared A.C. and it was something he said he wouldn’t be able to forget.

Fall had just begun to set in the neighborhood, the leaves were falling and there was a slight chill in the air that required most people to wear a light jacket. A.C. had walked himself across the street so that he can pick up C.C. for a day of babysitting. He was told to just go to C.C.’s room and wake him up.

Step by step, down a hall similar to the one in his own home, A.C. walked towards the very last door. As he got closer, he could hear that C.C. was talking.

A.C. had thought at first that C.C. may have been just watching TV and was answering whatever the character was asking. He had thought nothing of it, assuming it was just a kid being a kid.

But then he cracked open the door slightly and noticed that C.C. was nodding his head as he was slightly tossing a ball to someone behind the door.

The ball was thrown back right as A.C. opened the door wider, making C.C. turn toward him with confusion on his face. C.C. had caught the ball. Yet, when A.C. looked around the room, there was no one there.

“Who were you talking to?”

A.C. didn’t really want an answer. He was already frightened that the ball had been tossed back.

He wanted to question that it hit the wall. But if it did, wouldn’t he have heard the ball smack into it? A.C. wasn’t ready to hear any explanation, but chills ran through him with the answer that was given.

“You can’t see her.”

Mummy-Finger

It was the very end of spring; the air was hot and dry as summer was finally coming. I was probably about eight-years-old at the time, but I wouldn’t have believed this happened if I didn’t encounter it with a friend.

The playground behind my elementary school wasn’t that large. We had two parts to it. The monkey-bars and several of those beams that you see gymnastics being practiced on. Then there was the large wooden car. It had a steering wheel and holes that were easy to climb on. The rest of recess could be spent behind the playground, where there was a large field of grass.

It was a day where my friend S.N. and I didn’t feel like doing anything except exploring. So we decided to walk towards the farthest part of the field. It was far enough where most teachers couldn’t see us unless they were actively watching us. We didn’t want to feel disturbed.

We had decided to start our exploration by a giant oak tree that was near a factory. The only split between the school’s field and the factory was a wired fence.

Under the tree, we were doing what any young kid does, hold hands and sing “High School Musical” at the top of our lungs. I’m sure that I was having a great time, but that stopped when I noticed that S.N. had stopped singing. She had let go of my hand and started to crouch near the trees, holding something in her hand.

“Hey! Look!”

S.N. was holding something. It looked like a wrapping of some kind and it was in the shape of a finger. We laughed and started putting the finger on and poking each other with it before SN began to breathe heavily and clutch her stomach.

I didn’t notice it at the time, but the sky was starting to look a bit foggy and orange. There was a rush of wind that went through us and S.N. looked at me in fear.

The wrapping she was holding began to disintegrate and everything around us suddenly felt stuffy– and I no longer felt content.

S.N. threw the wrapping on the ground and I grabbed her as we ran all the way back to the actual playground. The further away we were from the tree, the more the sky began to look normal again. We ran as much as our legs could’ve before dropping right next to the wooden car.

I remember looking at S.N., fright still in our eyes, before we agreed to never step towards the back of the field again. We had only talked about the situation together once after it happened and we never got an explanation for it, but it’s a memory that we both still share.

“Hi”

When I was high school, there were many times where I would stay up late to finish homework or a project. That wasn’t any different during sophomore year of high school as I was spending one of my nights finishing up a project that needed to be ready to present the next day.

Luckily for me, it was a group project. So, I was in my kitchen, on the phone with my friend I have had for years, A.S..

We were scrambling to finish our project. She was sending me mass amount of graphics and paragraphs that I had to print off, while I was trying to superglue everything to the board.

It was near midnight. I was in the middle of explaining the final touches that the board needed, when I heard footsteps running up behind me. I didn’t bother looking up, thinking it was my little sister. I kept my hands busy with the gluing, as I continue to explain what the project needed to be done.

I heard a giggle behind me.

“Angela, it’s late. You need to go to sleep.”

Silence.

I figure that my sister had left and continued onto my conversation with A.S.. The last of what I had was being patted down when I felt something behind me, I sighed as I decided to start cleaning up. Then a small voice beside me spoke.

“Hi.”

“Angela, I said that-“

I turned around, only to find no one was around me.

I ran to my room that night and found my little sister sleeping soundly in her bed. The only reason I didn’t think I was going crazy was that A.S. was still on the phone when it happened.

Featured image by Gena Sysavath.

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