My boyfriend’s house is built on an old Indian reservation.  His parents had told me of the ghost that stood watch in their hallway each night to guard the land.  I didn’t believe them, so they invited me to spend a night on the couch.  The first night, I didn’t see anyone in the hallway, but I heard pots and pans banging around in the kitchen after everyone had fallen asleep.  Apparently, the watchman didn’t like me in the house.  When the door swung open by itself, I ran out voluntarily.  That was three years ago, and to this day I haven’t set foot in that house.

Ashley, MS