Real
Ghost Stories

Stan

I used to live in a great apartment complex. There were eight families with kids in the same age range. The kids all played together & we had these great BBQ every other month. It all ended after a great summer BBQ.
A 13 year old girl who looked & acted older than 13 was flirting with a 19 year old boy named Stan. He seemed like a nice kid to me but apparently he wasn't because during the party he slipped into this girls bedroom closet. After everyone had gone to bed, he slipped out of the closet & crawled into the girls bed. She screamed. Her stepdad procedded to beat the crap out of Stan. The police came & took Stan away.

You know how it goes with these kind of things. Some people sided with the boys family & some with the girls family. It tore the neighborhood up. It was really ugly.

Then while he was out on bail, Stan commited suicide. He hung himself on his bedroom door in such a way that when he kicked the door shut he was lifted up & strangled. His family never returned to their apartment. Movers came & got their stuff.

The girl's family moved away shortly thereafter. I hate to say it but that worked out good for me. My Mom needed to move in with me & I needed a larger apartment. I got a really low rent too. Aparently there had been other tenants in that appartment who had broken their lease since the girls family had left.

I hadn't been there very long when I begain to be awaken at night by the sound of slamming doors. I thought is was either my daughter or the boys who lived dounstairs.

Later I started hearing crying coming from my bedroom closet. It wasn't anyone in my apartment or in the apartment downstairs. I confirmed that during a talk with the woman who lived in the downstairs apartment. They actually thought it was me crying! I started thinking the sound was caused by pigeons nesting in the crawl space between the ceiling & the roof.

I thought that right up until the time whatever it was starting talking. It would say "I'm sorry, So sorry".Sometimes it would say "I'm sorry Mom" or "I'm sorry Dad" Sometimes it would say names as well. I recognised the names it was sayingas being Stan's sister and the name of the girl who had been involved in the "incident". That's how I came to the conclusion it was Stan.

I was really scared when I realised that I could make out words in the crying noises. I started sleeping on the living room couch...with the lights on. I was also a little worried that I might be losing it until one night when my mother came out to see why I was in the living room with the light on crying. I had to tell her, it wasn't me crying. And as we sat there Stan helped me out by going into a crying fit, proving to my Mom that it really wasn't me.
Then my daughter, who was about 12 at the time, came out as well to see what was going on. It was her who reminded me that the room I occupied had been the girls when her family lived her. So my closet would have been the one Stan hid in the night of the incident.

My daughter is also the one who came up with the what was the closest thing to a solution to the problem. She said 2 things, 1. "you weren't scared of Stan when he was alive why should you be scared of him now" and 2. "why don't you just tell him to shut up."

Well I finished that night on the couch but the next day I sat on my bed & had a nice chat with Stan. I told him he really needed to go on into eternity and that if he couldn't do that then he needed to be quite at night so I could sleep.

We lived in that appartment for another 6 years after that. Poor Stan didn't seem to be able to get past what he had done. But he did calm down a little bit. He stopped slaming doors. He still cried quite a bit but you know I kind of got used to it. Most nights I was able to sleep through it. And when he got really loud I would just tell him to be quite & he would be for the most part. But I'd be lying if I told you I didn't spend a siginificant number of nights on the living room couch sleeping with the lights on...

And then there are the circumstances surrounding our departure from that apartment. It wasn't pleasant & I wonder if Stan had anything to do with it...but I'll save that for my next posting.
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Like I said, my Mom, my daughter and I stayed in that apartment for another 6 years. I should have packed up & left. Maybe I was such a sceptic that I couldn't even admit it to myself. Anyway, my beautiful, headstrong 12 year old daughter grow up into a beautiful, headstrong 18 year old. The day after her 18th birthday she got married. I disapproved of her marrage and of her choice of men...strongly. But I love that girl beyond words & I couldn't bear the thought of her in some run down shack, living on welfare, dropping out of school, popping out babies one after another. So I allowed her new husband to move in with us. Apparently Stan didn't approve either. He went ape-**** crazy. After Jesus moved in with us, any door in the apartment that was left open would be violently slammed shut, day or night. Anything hung in my closet would be taken off the hanger & dumped on the floor. Items stored on the high shelf were pushed forward so that when the closet door was open they fell down on my head. The crying at night stopped & was replaced by loud thumping. Like someone was literally bouncing off the walls in the closet. It got so bad that my neighbors (new neighbors, all of the families from the good times had moved out by then) started complaining to the management. I thought it was time to have another heart to heart chat with Stan. I told him he had to leave. I told him I was sick & tired of him and he had to get out. I think this was a VERY BAD MISTAKE ON MY PART. Because I think either Stan really change after that or maybe he left & something else moved in. Stan totally stopped making any noises after that. Months went by. I can remember being really happy about my "sucess". Then one night my son-in-law was at work & I was hanging out with my daughter in her room. I was sitting on the foot of her bed & she was all the way on the bed. We were just watching tv. Then there was this horrible noise coming from under the bed. It was far worse than anything Stan had ever done. I can hardly describe it. It was like a scream and a hiss at the same time We looked at each other. Frozen in fear like in the movies. My daughters eyes were huge. Then something grabbed the heel of my bare foot. I very distinctly felt fingers closing around my foot. There's just no doubt in my mind it was a hand. I've tried to rationalize this but I can't. It was a hand on my foot. I screamed, jumped up, grabbed the kids arm & we ran out of the room. The door slammed shut behind us. My daughter was screaming "What was that!" The neighbors were thumping on the walls like they do in apartments when they want you to shut up. My Mom was on her feet in the living room. While I tried to explain to her what was happening, my daughter was calling her husband at work. When he came home we all went into their room. The tv was still on & the blankets were on the floor where we had dumped them during our retreat. My son-in-law took the bed apart down to the ground. He even opend the material on the bottom of the box spring to be sure no animals had managed to get up in there. There was nothing. The apartment was totally silent after that. No more noises from then until we moved out 3 months later. But here's the thing, my life took a serious downward turn that night. I swear, it was like a curse. Horrible things started happening to me & my daughter almost imidiately. There was a car accident, a mugging, and a very serious life threatening illness. The apartment hadn't changed physically but it had changed & we just had to get out. I had to break the lease & it cost me about $800 but I didn't care we HAD to get out. And I'm glad to report after we left that apartment there was a period of recovery but thing started to get better right away.

There was one little incident in the new place. So to be sure nothing followed us, my Mom had the new place blessed by a retired Methodist Minister. She just said a little prayer in each room. The nights here in our new house are now peacefully silent.