Duuuuude! Visiting a haunted place is one thing, but living in one? Nope! Maybe you should buy your ghost girl some dolls or something and leave them in the attic to keep her busy?
4 of us were driving on a back road near Stephenville, Texas back in ’94 and it was really dark. We were really lost and the only map we had didn’t show most of the Farm-To Market roads and as it was like 1am all the little country stores we passed were closed up. We drove past this cowboy, in full wrangling duds with a hat and chaps and a bandana at his neck, the works. He was really dusty a leaning against the only tree along the side of the road for like 300 yards in any direction. We only saw him because he had a dim lantern at his feet and struck a match to light a cigarette. We stopped about 50 yards past him and backed up to the tree to ask him directions and there was no one there! The grass below the tree didn’t even look trampled. There was nowhere for anyone to hide, nor could anyone have gotten to any shrubs that quickly as they were far off. Just unplowed dirt fields all around. We did smell something kind of rottenish as well as slightly sulfuric. A week later Derrick said he asked some old timers about it and they said that the tree used to be a stage coach stop way back when there was a small cotton plantation in the area and that a would be robber was run over and killed by the coach one night when he stepped into the road and the coach wasn’t intending to stop that night. I didn’t believe him because the way he told it seemed made up on the fly. Hadn’t thought about it in years and might have to try and see if i can find anything about it.
I dated a girl that freaked out once when we ate at “the haunted catfish plantation restaurant” in Waxahachie. She thought I was touching her under the table, even though my hands were on the table, as well as having a “cold blast’ pass through her when she was washing her hands in the restroom. She fled to the car and wouldn’t get out until we got back to my place where her car was. She didn’t let go of my arm for 6 hours!
One of my co-workers just told me that her daughter used to play with “an fatish old man with a flat top straw hat that drank out of a clear glass jar” that always called her “Junebug” or “dotty” when she was 5 or 6. One day her daughter asked to dig near a fence and dug up a old tin cigar box that had 2 baseball cards from the 30’s in it as well as some other stuff. There were pictures but they were mostly too moisture damaged to see (the baseball cards were too, and only worth about $5 a piece). But, one of the people they could make out her daughter called “peepaw”. She says he looked like WC Fields a little, and when they researched to find out if anyone had died in the house, etc, nothing turned up. They are still baffled who this guy was, even though her daughter hasn’t mentioned him in 10 years and has no recollection of him at all.
"I saw this in a cartoon once, but I'm pretty sure I can do it..."