#Ghoststories

This #Ghoststories post is brought to you by a friend of mine who shared his story with me just last week.  Thanks Kyle! 

“My Dad lived in a house that had been a stagecoach stop in the 19th century. It’s on the National Historic Registry in Missouri.  You always felt watched in that house–like, most nights when I was a kid, if the weather was nice enough, I’d sleep out on the porch. It just wasn’t comfortable inside. My bed was original to the house–it has shotgun spray lodged into it. Just to give you an idea.

Anyway, one night when I was in middle school, my dad had some friends over and let me invite a couple of friends over, too. Everybody was hanging out in the living room, just talking and having a good time, the adults drinking some beers.  All of the sudden, we start hearing a crashing sound, like glass breaking.  A bunch of us got up and followed the sound into the kitchen to find the necks broken off all of the bottles of beer that were sitting on the counter. Beer is pouring down the fronts of the cabinets, onto the floor, and the necks are sitting alongside the bottles, clean broken, no shattered glass.

It was especially spooky because everyone in the house had been in the front room–everyone had heard the noise. We all experienced it together, so it wasn’t one person’s word over another’s. Nobody could explain what had happened. ”

 

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