Before I joined the military, I lived with my family in a old california house, way up in the mountains.This town has been around since when the spainish came to america and had the indians work as slaves in gold mines. That's how the town was originally founded.
Not only are there indian burial grounds all over, there's plenty of generations past of drug dealing and unhappy deaths in my town. Any one passing through my town at night knows the chill.
There are no street lights. In the middle of two mountains lies the small strip, the only strip, of paved road, and the couple shops on it. So walking back after sundown, is quite an affair, no moon light shows through the two mountains, no street lights, complete pitch black. I know the rugged roads like the back of my hand though. I've seen ghosts, while walking home, all the time.
But, the worst is the one in my house. We bought the house from a man because his wife had died of "old age". I didn't like the guy we bought it from, he was a creepy dude.
I used to share a room with my brother, who would sometimes wake up late at night, claiming to have seen her, walking around in a white gown. I have heard stories from my mom of hearing a woman crying. And stories from my little brother of a invisible woman. I my self have woken to whispering in the night, had blankets pulled from ontop of me, and heard a door slam when no ones awake. I hate old houses lol.