So I'm not quite sure if I believe in ghosts. Logic tells me that after death there's just nothing since your brain ceases to function, but one incident does make me question that belief.
When I was a little kid, I must have been around 4 or 5, my family and I lived in a rather old house. I remember I had a peculiar friend who was hanging around and spending the night all the time. Her clothes were different and instead of having any typical 90's kid toys she had a rag doll. Eventually we moved away from that house and I never saw that girl again. Recently I was visiting my mom at her house and we started reminiscing and the topic of that house came up. I asked her if she remembered that one girl who was always at the house and spending the night. My mom looked confused and told me I never had any sleepovers while we were living in that house, and that she didn't remember any girl like the one I described ever being around. I thought that was odd, but chalked it up to one of us not remembering things correctly. Human memory isn't perfect after all.
My sister chimed in and said she heard there was a murder at that house. My mom didn't believe her since the landlord of that house never told her or our dad that any murder occurred there, but I was still curious, so later on I did some research on that house. I eventually came across an archived newspaper article about that house. My sister was right, there was a murder at that house....multiple murders in fact.
The article was dated March 7, 1932. The house had been occupied by a factory worker, his wife, and their three kids, two sons and one daughter. This was during the Great Depression, so of course the factory worker lost his job. He and his family were in danger of losing everything, and this drove him over the edge. So one night he took and axe and hacked his wife and children to death as they slept. After the deed was done he took his shotgun, put the barrel in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Around a month later the husband's brother became concerned because he hadn't heard from any of them, so he went to the house to check on them and found their rotting corpses.
The article included a photo of the family standing in front of that house, which of course was black and white and pretty grainy, but I could still easily make out the people in the photo. The father, the mother, two boys, and a familiar looking girl holding a familiar looking rag doll. I stared at the picture for who knows how long, wondering if that really was the girl or if my memory was just playing tricks on me.
Then suddenly I felt a tug on the hem of my shirt, a tug that felt like it was from the tiny hand of a child. I was thoroughly startled and turned around, wondering who the hell could possibly be in my room tugging on my shirt, but I saw nobody. Then I heard a little girl's playful sounding giggle echo in the room.