Ghost Stories :: essays research papers

Ive unendingly believed in touchings and spirits. Perhaps it was because it amused me, or perhaps it was because Ive been stuffed with ghost stories ever since I was old enough to comprehend them. Ive been some a lot of people who grew up in remote areas of the world. You know, the line where electricity doesnt exist, and running house water is right a myth. Well, anyway, Ive heard many ghost stories from them, mostly drawn from their real(a) encounters and experiences. These stories were pass on to me on many different occasions. Like theorise around a campfire, a mid-night drive across towns, or just under the dim candlelight of my partners basements.One of my friends stories was about his popping. You see, back in those days when my friends father was just teenager, water was a rare commodity. At every dawn, he had to leave his home with 2 vases on either side of a stick on his shoulders to enamour drinkable water from the villages well. The locomote was about dicken s miles. People did not live close to each other in those days, they lived on their farm, and every house was quite far from each other. there wasnt any pavement, or cement street, roads were simply make out of rocks, and mud, and dirt. And the only mean of transportation was cows. Nevertheless, my friends dad always stop by his neighbors house, the two boys grew up together and theyve always walked alongside each other to get water. When Mr. enclothe, my friends dad, was fifteen, his friend died of malaria, so from thence on he had to walk to the well by himself.One day, while coming back from the well, Mr. Shoe heard running footsteps coming from behind him. So he stopped and turned around, no one was there. The footsteps then slowed down to a jog, and then to a walk, then it stopped next to him. He was puzzled, but he wasnt scared, so he kept walking. The footstep started again, but this clipping it was next to him. The footsteps pace matched Mr. Shoe pace evenly as he walked down the street.The tall grass that was growing on either side of the street, he recalled, drooped down and turned purple that day. It seemed pulseless and somehow evil. The sun did not rise yet, and the moon still hung mulishly on the cloudless night.