I was the biggest skeptic. I didn't believe in ghosts. Ghosts? Bah, humbug! That changed back in summer of 2003 in Lathrop, California. It was hot. I work at night and sleep during the day, upstairs where it was even hotter. The only thing that I was truly scared of was the power bill! I have a downstairs guest bedroom no one ever used; it's much cooler down there.

I heard once from the neighbor lady that a young girl lived downstairs in the guest bedroom and that she died from cancer.


No big deal at the time; it was just another interesting fact about the house.

I started sleeping in the guest bedroom. Again, it was during the day -- not a problem, nice and cool in that room. To make a long story short, I started sleeping there. Everything goes bump in the night. I didn't pay any attention to it, and I guess it really wanted my attention -- because one night it got it.

Sleeping face down in the bed, my bangs were pulled real hard. I looked up to see a young child's arm and hand slide back between the mattress and head board. Right after it happened, my first thought was: It's under my bed. I lay there waiting for something else to happen. In the morning I got up to look at my head. I wouldn't have believed if it wasn't for the pain: there was a hole in my forehead from the missing hair.

You better believe I never slept in that room again. The funny thing is, when a family guest would stay the night, they refused to sleep in the guest room, instead preferring to sleep on the floor in the front room.

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