This story takes place in Philadelphia, summer of 2011. It was a hot, muggy day and I was 15 years old. I was walking back from the park with my friend. As we approached a street corner, I could see a man, and he was wearing clothing that wasn't from this time period. I thought it was odd, so I made quick eye contact with the stranger, then looked away.

The man was in his 30s, wearing a brown suit (which was weird since it was very hot) and his eyes were such a beautiful blue.


As we passed the man, I heard the man say something and he sounded cocky, but I ignored it. My friend asked if I knew him.

"Why?" I asked.

"He just said, 'Hello, Emily.'"

Then it hit me: it was my dead grandfather. I was freaked out, so I turned around to catch another glimpse of the man, and he was still walking. What was strange was the people he was walking by didn't move as they did for us when he passed. I walked a little more and turned and he was gone.

I called my dad immediately and told him what happened. He asked me where I was and he told me I was near my grandfather's old house. He also said that my grandfather sounded cocky when he spoke, but that was just his way of speaking.

Maybe my grandfather was just walking home? I often wonder why he didn't stop to continue to talk, and why he chose to visit me at such a random time. Every time I think about this experience I get the chills.

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