Ghost Stories

Around 10 p.m., I was in the kitchen finishing my homework when I heard a loud stomping noise from the stairs. My parents were on a date and my two brothers had disappeared, supposedly for a nighttime swim. I ran to the light switches, paranoia kicking in.

The lights flickered on, and I scanned the room, but there was nothing. Going back to my homework, I kept the lights on.

As I finished the last math problem, I heard another noise. This time, it was closer; my heart was pounding blood loudly in my ears. My mother's "Gone With the Wind" plates on the wall rattled slightly. I turned slowly towards the window to see if it was open, praying that it was just the wind -- and then I saw the reflection of a plate coming right at me.

I ducked and the plate just scraped my head. I staggered upright, dizzy, touching my bleeding head. Now there were more noises. It sounded like heavy, angry breathing.

I pulled my hand away from my head and saw the blood. I guess I fainted.

When my eyes fluttered open, it was to see police looking down at me curiously. I assessed the situation as much as my foggy brain could handle: my parents had come home to see me bleeding on the floor next to the broken plate, and they'd panicked and called 911.

My parents helped me sit up and I told them all I could remember, squished between them on the couch. They didn't believe me, now that the police had gathered information and announced there was no burglar. "You must have hit your head too hard," my mother told me.

I was annoyed, but they escorted me to the ambulance and I got a routine check-up at the hospital. My parents still don't believe me. I have to go to therapy twice a week because, as my mom told her friends, her daughter saw a floating plate.

I'm pretty sure it was a vindictive spirit, but no one believes me.