I can’t say were the house is now because people live there and I don’t want to freak them out, but it was haunted...and I lived there for 6 years. The ghost haunting my old house wasn’t a bad ghost, he was good… in fact he was my friend. It all started when I was 10-years-old. I was watching a late night program with my mom, dad and brother, who was 13 at the time. Suddenly I saw something move across in front of the TV… right in front of my whole family! None of them saw it! I was kind of scared, but when I saw 'it' fully, out of the darkness, I wasn’t afraid anymore. He was an old man, with a messy beard and only a little bit of hair. He was standing in the far corner of my living room, smoking a pipe, smiling at me. I smiled back and waved to him, to which he waved back and mouthed "Hello".  I got up off the couch and went to the corner, to stand with my new friend. He told me his name was Henry and promised he would always look after me. I was so happy I was jumping up and down (still in the corner). I looked over at my parents, who were gazing at me in amazement. My mom asked "What are you doing?" I told her all about Henry, but mom didn’t believe me and my dad told me to stop being silly. My brother laughed straight in my face.  For the next few weeks I got regular visits from Henry and I loved spending time with him. He didn’t even look like a ghost, just a normal person. One night I was sitting up on my bed, talking to Henry, naturally! My mom walked in to put away some clothes and she sniffed. "Can you smell smoke?" I shook my head, but I could really. It was Henry’s pipe!  One morning I woke up to find a note on my bed side table. I un-folded it and read it, and I still cry now thinking of it.  I have changed my name in the letter.

Dearest Jessica,

I'm sad as I write this and do not want you to be sad too, but I must leave you for reasons beyond my control. I will miss you greatly and will always look out for you, just as I promised all those months ago.

Your faithful and loving friend, Henry.

I cried for days after that letter. But… sometimes, when I’m alone in my room, I can still smell the smoke from his pipe. And I know Henry is still there. I hope he never breaks his promise.

Anonymous