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The summer after I turned 6, my family moved to a little house in Orangeburg, Kentucky. It wasn't a big house -- four rooms down and two up. But even in the summer, the upstairs rooms were cool. This was unusual because this house had no air conditioning and everyone knows that warm air rises. It wasn't long before we started to notice other odd things.
Mom thought the upstairs would be perfect for my brother and me. One of the rooms was really large, and she felt it would be great not only as a bedroom but also as a playroom. While cleaning the smaller of the two rooms, she discovered that the house had an attic located on either side. The one attic was empty, and it wasn't long before a few things were stored there. When she entered the other attic however, she found an odd collection of things. It was nothing much and didn't appear to be anything of value so she thought she'd just toss them out. While picking up the strange items, such as an old bag of walnuts, she kept noticing how cold it was in there. Several times she thought someone was looking over her shoulder, and she would turn to see which one of us was in there with her, only to find herself alone. Then she felt someone tap her on the shoulder, only to turn and find herself still alone. She was so unnerved at this point that she left the attic. She only entered one other time after that. When she had the same experience, she left and after that kept the attic door locked. That was when she changed her mind about having my brother and me sleep up there. From that point on, it was only our play area.
One night not long after that, my mother fell asleep on the couch while watching TV. She was awakened by the sound of running and giggling overhead. Thinking that it was me and that it was entirely too late for me to be upstairs playing, she got up to send me back to bed. The stairs were entered through our bedroom, and as Mom started up them she happened to glance over at my bed. She said she couldn't begin to describe her surprise to find not only me but my brother snug in our beds. That wasn't the only time she was awakened by a child's laughter.
My mom was as convinced that we were sharing our house with a ghost as my dad was convinced that my mom was just having vivid dreams. She asked our landlord about any unusual disturbances or deaths that might have occurred in the house, but the only thing they could tell her was that they had lost a daughter at birth. They had never noticed any 'spirited' visits, and they moved out soon after they lost their little girl.
Mom told a good friend about our little ghost, and soon her teenage daughters were begging to have a sleep over. One Friday night we all camped out upstairs, and while I can't say that we heard any laughter or saw anything, it wasn't long before we all went back downstairs. It was just too cold to sleep up there, and we always felt like someone was watching us.
My dad finally encountered our resident spirit one summer afternoon. Mom and Dad were working in the garden, and my brother and I were playing behind the house. Dad went inside to get a drink, and while he was in the house, he heard running and laughter upstairs. Thinking it was us, he called for us to settle down as he headed back out. He hadn't even gotten off the porch when he saw us playing on the swingset. Can you imagine his surprise?
We lived in the house for about a year and a half, and we all heard a child's laughter on several occasions. Our ghost was a pleasant one and never seemed to want to do anything but play, so we all got along well. I don't know who the child was or why she was there, but I've often wondered about her. Yes, I said her. My mother is convinced that it was a little girl, and that she was a happy one. Maybe that was it. She was so happy there that she just couldn't leave.
