by Glory Lennon

Created on: January 04, 2009   Last Updated: January 15, 2009

Believing in ghosts is one thing. Experiencing ghosts is completely another. You can believe in spirits of the departed roaming the earth without experiencing them first hand but can you possibly experience a ghost without believing in them? And what if you don't actually see them? What if you only hear something that sounds spooky, sounds oddly familiar but still other-worldly? Would that be enough to convince you?

Well, that's the thing, isn't it? You believe what you want to and that is that. Perhaps there are those who can and will refuse to believe even after having a hair raising phenomenon brush over them and that is their prerogative. It is not for us to insist others believe in what we believe.

Perhaps it is the fear of ridicule that prevents so many from telling their extraordinary- or perhaps not so extraordinary?- ghostly tales at any other times than around the campfire or during Halloween. Having said that, here is a tiny bit of a true tale to send a shiver down your spine whether or not you want to believe.

Matt awoke at the normal time this fine Saturday. He got up and ready to start the day as usual giving his wife a kiss, his 3 year old daughter a toss up into the air to set her giggling and lifting his 1 year old son out of his crib to set him terrorizing the dog. It was a perfectly normal day and he meant to do some yard work. Perhaps cut the grass and possibly look at the elderly neighbor's yard to see if it also needed tending. He was like that, always thinking of others who may need help but didn't want to ask for fear of being an imposition.

He didn't mind that nearly as much as the imposition of his own relatively useless brothers who always wanted something from him, mostly money, and never were around when he needed help. Typical, freeloading bums they were but as the saying goes, you can't pick your family. You can, however, pick your friends and he actually liked his neighbors. That in itself was a miracle.

Just as he was about to go outside the phone rang. He answered with a bright, "Hello."

"Matthew.....Matthew..." the weak voice said slowly.

A shiver ran up his spine. "Grandma?" he whispered incredulously.

"Matthew.....Matthew..." the voice said again then was gone.

He stood stock still clutching the phone, breathing heavily.

"Who's on the phone, Mattie?" Jenny asked carrying in a laundry basket full of clothes for the washing machine down in the cellar. She paused at the back door and looked back at him. He looked white as a sheet. "Mattie,

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