What I am about to tell you is something my father told me a few years back. I still feel shivers down my spine when I think of it and the mental imagery that comes with it doesn’t help at all. This happened to my father, maybe or so, in his middle school years. It involves a series of different paranormal events that quickly escalated in scale over the course of a few days.
It all started one night when my dad was alone in my grandparent’s house and was getting himself ready to head out to a local festivity that the town celebrated every September. As he was finishing up in front of the hallway mirror that connected my grandparent’s bedroom to the living room, he saw a figure looking towards him in the bedroom. My father looked at him, clearly seeing a tall figure wearing a top hat and a nice suit. My father was startled, but not afraid. He recognized the figure as his deceased great uncle, whom he had met when he was a small child. He was staring at my father with a concerned look, rubbing his right hand underneath his chin. After a few minutes, he disappeared and my father went straight out of the house. He did not know what had happened, but he was unaware that things were about to get freakier.
Several days later, my father was eating alone at my grandparent’s home when he suddenly heard the family dog barking. He was barking nonstop to my aunt’s room and, after a few minutes, came rushing to where my dad sat. He tried to calm the frightened dog down, who vigorously kept barking. Immediately, in front of my father’s very own eyes, the entire tray of spoons and forks where thrown into the sink in a violent fashion. My father jumped, but kept his cool. He shrugged it off as it were nothing serious or to be narrowly afraid of. My father is not a very easy man to scare, but if there was something that spooked him was what happened next.
