I was just sitting here watching Youtube and there were these stories about monsters in the closet. It reminded me of the day I wrote and told your page of the game my brother and I used to play upstairs in the hall when it rained.
That hall was already dark (because the bulbs just kept blowing out there, or fizzling down to almost the light of a candle no matter how strong the bulb actually was) , and if you lingered on the top stairs, something would try to shove you down the stairs.
Looking back, not the brightest game we've ever invented, but we justified it by figuring we could feel the thing coming towards us (all your hair would stand on end before it got to you) and we would brace ourselves before taking off at the last second down the stairs pell mell to the "safe" end of the house. But, after watching the Youtube program, I realized that we actually played a game that was WAY worse one day.
We had no idea at the time, of course, how much trouble we were in. But I can tell you now, as an adult, what happened. You see, my closet door opened and slammed itself shut all the time since we moved in when I was five. Mom told me that it was natural for doors to do this. It was physics and the door was warped. I believed her, but I still didn't like the red eyed hat man who lived there.
My closet had a pair of wing tipped shoes in there from the previous owner of the house. Black, with white wings. Mom would toss them to the back of the closet when she hung up my clothes and the darned shoes would be front and center every time she went back to the closet on laundry day. I certainly wasn't the one fixing them.
Well, one day, I finished reading "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe" and I got it in my head that the red eyed hat man might be from some magic place at the other end of my closet like in the book. So, I convince my brother to stay on the other end of the door and I would go into the closet and find out if there was a secret entrance (a la Nancy Drew) at the other end of the closet. I got there and started rapping on the walls, etc looking for hollow spots. I am disappointed to tell you that there was no Narnia in there. And no criminals, either. Then all hell broke loose!
My brother is precisely three years younger than me, but he is large for his age, and I was small at the time for mine. We were often mistaken for twins. And Ian is as strong as an ox. I heard him scream my name, just once, and when I turned around my brother was standing there, legs splayed out. He is holding the doorknob with BOTH hands and the damn thing is twisting as though it is alive.
My brother is sock feet on carpet, and I realize that that is the only reason that I haven't gotten slammed in the dark space yet. Holy crap. I don't know how I got out, just that one minute it felt like I was running down a long corridor and the next, I was laying on the carpet of my room with my brother, both of us breathing hard and staring at the closet door, which slammed hard enough to bring Mom upstairs to see what we were up to.
Years and years later, we found out that the previous owner killed himself. In the closet. So much for Narnia and Nancy Drew!
Maureen C.
Cape Breton
If you know of any Ghost stories from your area, or have a story of your own that you would like to share, we would love to hear from you!
Read another great story! Catherine McIntosh, A Child's Grave