To tell this story I need to give a little back ground. My grandparents had recently moved into the family house because of deaths in the family that led my aunt to move out. My cousin, we’ll call him Johnny, had died 5 years prior and lived in the house his whole life. He mainly stayed in the basement and loved the house.
Fast forward a few years and I was driving my then 2 year old sister around the three acre yard on a golf cart. I stopped at the end of the field to look at something on my phone. There was a bunch of junk sitting in the edge of the woods surrounding the back part of the yard, including the truck of my dead cousin. My sister pointed to the truck and told me “That’s John’s truck. John misses his truck.” I looked at her smiling up at me and drove the cart back up to the house as fast as it would go.
What makes this even creepier to me is that an hour earlier she had come up from the basement to eat and told my mother and I about her friend John that was in the basement. No one ever talked about Johnny around her and there was no way she could’ve known that that was his truck without being told. Only his friends ever called him John.
I still get chills when I’m in that basement or near that truck. My sister doesn’t remember any of this but I wouldn’t expect her to seeing as she was only 2 years old.