the house i grew up in was haunted. i have no idea if it still is seeing as how we moved out more than ten years ago. for a while i thought it was all in my head seeing as how i was doing a lot of drugs at the time. after we moved out there was a random electrical fire in the basement. i think the ghosts were pissed.
i’m not really sure when the hauntings became evident. and i could probably fill the month with stories of that house, but its not the ghosts that haunt me now. screw them, they’re dead. the thing that really haunts me about the house is the memories it holds. so many good times with parents, family, friends. so many bad times as well. and anytime i dream about that house, there are always floods. the backyard fills with water until it’s touching where the windows are in the sunroom.
Maybe it’s representative of the flood of emotions the house always brings me. who knows. the memories are haunting though. i can still hear the laughter, music and splashing coming from the backyard today.