INHen, I was 10 years venerable, I was at a family party at my aunt's home, just a few streets from my house. A few of my close cousins and I returned to my house to escape our crazy aunts and irritating little cousins. When we turned to our street, my cousin said to me: “Is your dad home?” “No,” I answered. “Oh, I thought I saw him sitting on a bench in your backyard a second, but now he is not there. He had dark curly hair and large sunglasses.” When we all entered my house, we sat down and ate ice cream sandwiches to frosty the sizzling summer day. “I swear that I just saw this guy on your front stairs, but he is gone!” My cousin said to me. Everyone just rejected him and went upstairs to my room.
When we sat and talked, we began to hear raucous, clear steps walking down the stairs. Terrified, I began to browse the pages of many books that I had on ghosts and spells, etc. After about an hour of reading useless information and waiting for the stops to stop, we developed the courage to go up the stairs. Crushing the crucifix and wearing the Rosary beads around our neck, we slowly crept up the stairs to the sun illuminated by the sun. There was nothing there. There was no noise anymore. We opened the front door and ran back to my aunt's house, not realizing that we forgot to close the door behind us. When we returned to the party, a scarlet red truck rode with an open window on the driver's side. The man inside had murky curly hair and vast sunglasses. He waved and drove to us slowly. We have never seen this man again.
When we returned to my aunt's house, we told everyone a story. Nobody believed us. Our parents thought someone broke into our home and we should be more responsible and approached someone to call someone. We all came to the face that we had never talked about it again, more than as much as fear.
A few months later, my neighbors and best friends slept when they saw a man with murky curly hair and vast sunglasses in the window on the second floor. When I heard this story, I told them about my experience.
Now, five years later, we have reconciled with our ghostly meeting and we talk about it in a mood. But none of us would dare to move with our parents for fear of what they would say. He will express our parents on their faces that day could scare the devil. Anxiety in their voices was no different than before. Could there be something more in the history of a man with murky curly hair and vast sun glasses? Do our parents know something that not? I guess I'll never find out …
