Your True
Tales
April 2004
– Page
5
Mr. Parker's
Ghost
by Rosemary
I was three years old, my family and I lived in an old Victorian house. My family members always said they heard weird things in that house. My mother heard footsteps on the stairs and so did my brother. My mom and dad even heard my mom's jewelry box slam shut one night while lying in bed. Of course they never told me about any of this at the time. It's not exactly a thing to tell a three year old, is it?
One afternoon, I was playing with my doll house in the hall, which was quite big. My mom was in the dining room putting a clean table cloth on the table, and my oldest sister was getting ready to go back to school after coming home for dinner. She said goodbye to my mom and walked up the hall toward the front door. I didn't hear the front door shut, which made me look up. Sitting in a black leather chair was an old man smiling at me. He was dressed in black and wore glasses. The leather chair, by the way, wasn't in the hallway before. He smiled at me in a way that told me he meant no harm. I turned and looked at my mom; she was still putting the table cloth on the table. I looked back at the old man, but he was gone.
I told my mom and dad, and I described the man. They told me it was Mr. Parker, who used to own the house before my family moved in.
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