A little bit of background that does play a bit of a roll in this tale of this story. Growing up I was the kid who was considered the crazy trouble maker as I would sneak out at night and go into abandoned buildings that had a lot of ghost stories around them. Some of these places I never experienced much more the sounds and some little forms appearing and disappearing. I mean I was a kid looking for these things it isn’t like I go into an abandoned building not fully expecting to see nothing but not fully expecting an axe murderer to pop out and come after me. So at this point I am pretty use to the fact of seeing these things I basically have grown up always being able to see ghosts.
The first time I remember seeing my first ghost was when I was 4 years old though the memory is slightly fuzzy for me but my grandfather came to visit me and my younger brother in the middle of the night. I screamed when he left the room my mother came jogging in, as my scream woke them up and she heard her dead father’s voice say good night dear through the baby monitors. As she got to my room there were bloody footprints leading from the center of the hall way to my bed room and stopped at the end of my crib.