The Ghost Wore Army Boots

The Ghost Wore Army Boots

My story starts when I was about eight years old. I lived in typical rambler two bedroom house with my parents and baby sister. The first thing that seemed to have started it all was a nightmare I had. I won't go into major details of the dream, other than it involved me alone in a dungeon type room with black dogs trying to get me and I could see my parents walk by at the top of a stairway and I tried to scream but no sound would come out. I ended up waking up staring at the ceiling, and suddenly something under my bed hit me from underneath ( Years later I tried to rationalize this as a spring breaking in my box spring. I have never been afraid of dogs, the dream just marks the beginning of the strange happenings).

I would be playing with my barbie dolls by myself on my bedroom floor and the plastic sliverware for them would start to move around. Especially the knives. I would try to make a proper place setting with the blade of the knife facing the plate and it would flip around. The forks would slant but the spoons would be left alone. I remembering feeling as if I wasn't alone. That's when I stopped playing in my room.

Then one night a painting on my wall of a little girl ( my mom thought it looked like me) would wink at me after my mom said good night and left the room. Even as an eight year old I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination, but it kept winking. That night the picture came down.

The final event in that room actually happened outside, but could only be seen from my bedroom window. I woke up one morning and looked out my window to check the weather. It was fall and all the leaves had fallen. There was one small tree right next to the house about two windows down from mine. It was kind of hard to see, but I thought I saw a blue face with dark eyes floating in the tree. I gasped, stepped back and then looked again. It was still there. I thought maybe I was seeing things so I quick ran to a closer window to look-it was gone.

I went back to my room, got dressed and looked out my window again. The face was there. There was nothing smudging my window and the tree was only about 20 feet away. I was scared but I thought maybe it was something else. Maybe a piece of plastic blew into the tree or something. I went outside then and found nothing in the tree or nearby that was blue or even close. Nothing really happened in that room after that. I was always uneasy in that room and spent many nights sleeping with my parents. We moved when I was twelve. I did not have another experience until I was twenty and newly married.

My husband and I rented the upstairs of a 98 year old house that was turned into a duplex. My husband worked an odd 4pm to 12pm shift an hour from our town. Nothing strange ever happened when he was home. I, on the other hand witnessed the tv shutting off while I was watching it, the lights dimming and brightening, and the shades flying up by themselves.

One time I was cleaning the bathroom and I thought my husband had thrown away a perfectly good washcloth. The weird thing was that it was neatly spread over the top of the garbage that was in the small wastebasket. I also noticed it was the one I had used in the shower that morning. It was still damp. When I questioned him he had no idea what I was talking about. He didn't do it.

Then there was the stuff on the ceiling. Sometimes it happened in the kitchen and sometimes in the bathroom. It was kind of yellowish clear and it formed a droplet but the droplets never fell. I thought maybe it was moisture but it didn't stain the ceiling at all, and it wasn't near the stove or sink. It would show up even when you weren't cooking or even using the bathroom. I would wipe it away and it had no smell and it left no marks.

Next came the footsteps. It was about 11:30pm, I just went to bed, my husband was working and I was not sleeping yet. Then I heard heavy- boot footsteps heading toward my bedroom (the whole place was hard wood floors) At first I thought it was my husband home early but in the same second I realized I never heard him come through the door.

The footsteps walked in my room, around the side of my bed and stopped. I layed there with my eyes shut tight and my heart beating out of my chest. For some reason I felt this was a man around forty and in old green army clothes. I knew he was watching me, but he wouldn't hurt me. Then something told me that if I turn over and look at him he'll go away. So I did, and he was gone. I never saw him again, but I heard him once more.

This time my sister witnessed him with me. We were watching tv and we heard footsteps coming up my wooden stairs. The only thing is there was only enough footsteps heard to have come up halfway. They were the same heavy boots. Then the doorknob turned a few times, but my door was locked. That was it. No more steps going down. No more knob turning. No one there. About a month later we moved.

My husband and I only lived there about 6 months total. Then 5 or 6 years later there was an article in our small town paper about this house being the oldest standing house in the town and how it was going to be moved about a mile down the road and remodeled.

The article told about the history of it and how a man came back from the war and bought the house and lived there until he died. Army boots?? Anyway, the family remodeled the home, lived there with their small child for maybe a year and the house was up for sale.

I think it was for sale for at least a year (which is a long time in that neighborhood and the house was beautiful now) before it was sold. I never heard why they sold their "dream home", but I can guess. I haven't lived in a haunted place for almost 10 years now.

~ Anonymous

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Jenny