I've found out that writing a ghost story isn't the best thing for me to do. Not when I end up spooking myself. Last night I had a hard time falling asleep because I kept thinking I heard things.
Every so often I'd sit straight up in bed. My husband would say, "What did you hear now?"
Once it was the ticking of my son's A/C unit. Once it was the TV.
Oh, and then last night while my husband was out, my son and I were sitting downstairs watching a movie when we heard a door shut upstairs. Now, logically, I knew it was because the bedroom window was open and the draft had sucked the door shut, but there was another part of me that was ready to run.
It doesn't even make sense since we rebuilt this whole house. Well, almost all... There's still a small piece of the old part. You know...that part from around the Civil War. Crap.
I'm going to stop talking about it now...
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