I honestly have so many stories I wouldn’t know where to begin. I’ve shared at least some of them on Fluther before, but I was extremely hesitant because of how a lot of people react to “ghost” stories here. Even I don’t know if I believe in ghosts in the traditional sense. However, some of my experiences can not be explained satisfactorily with science . Again, I don’t necessarily believe that all of my experiences are dead people, but they were definitely far from anything normal.
Every single experience (aside from one) I’ve had occurred in the house that I grew up in. At 10 or 11, shortly after we’d moved in, my sister invited her best friend over. We had a neat little area set up in our garage that us kids used to hang out in all the time. That day, that’s where we all were. I needed to come inside to grab something from my sister’s bedroom (I can’t remember what), which was in the very back of our house. No one was home but us kids, so I was the only person inside. Once in my sister’s room, I saw what I had come to grab, so I bent over to pick it up. Upon standing – in the matter of a few seconds – this feeling of absolute dread washed over me. It was such a powerful feeling that I couldn’t move right away, and while trying to process the feeling, I suddenly felt my hair moving. It was long at the time, and when I felt it moving, it was such a slow and deliberate feeling that I thought I was going to die of fear. When I looked up, a thick bunch of hair was standing straight up in the air, except the part that was drooping – where it looked like someone, if I could see anyone, would have been holding it between their fingers. You have to keep in mind that I was in the middle of the room, and there was absolutely nothing that my hair could have been caught on. Not to mention that there’s no way it could have gotten caught on something after I’d already stood, and I could, after standing, slowly feel it lifting. After staring in horror for something like five seconds, my instincts kicked in, and I ran as fast as I could back out to the garage. Passing the living room and into the kitchen, I heard someone/something say my name – loudly – in the creepiest way that I can imagine. Thinking about it still gives me goosebumps.
I flat out roll my eyes at any person who attempts to explain it scientifically. They were not there to witness it and it was absurd. Hair can’t do what mine did without assistance. If I had flung my head over on bending, I suppose, but even then, it wasn’t attached to anything. People might argue that only a tiny strand could have gotten caught on the ceiling, but that would not hold as much of my hair up as what was held up – especially with the ends drooping beyond the “gripped” point. Noooope. Haha!
Anyway, that’s one of my stories. :) I have a lot more, and one got to me so badly that I don’t know if I’ll even be willing to share it here.