This story starts out as many do for a child in the summer afternoon, playing with the neighbor children. My parents were away to get groceries out of town. One of the children I was playing with in the yard, pointed to the upstairs window in our old house.
She said "Who's that up in your window?" Well, I thought, no one. How could that be? I didn't have siblings living at home. Sure enough, as I spun myself around, there he was. A little boy on the other side of the windowpane looking down at us.
He had one of his hands up against the window along with his elbow. I was instantly angered by this. Why on earth is there a boy in MY house? I charged across the street keeping my eye on him the whole time. He watched me as I walked toward the house.
This was when I first noticed he had no color to him or his clothes. He was just gray, like in a black and white picture. Thinking back on it, I had no fear whatsoever. I ran up the stairs to the window. No little boy. A pile of boxes was the only thing in front of the window.
I was speechless. My parents came home shortly after. I told them details of what happened. My dad's face grew pale. " I used to do that when I was a boy." Could I really have seen my father when he was a little boy?
I saw a picture of my dad when he was that age. He was wearing the same shirt. My father was still alive when I saw the little boy. I have never heard of such an experience. This is my ghost story.
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