I didn't believe in ghosts until I was 9. I thought it was just stuff adults made up to scare us. I grew up in south Florida and although most of the buildings and houses there are pretty new, there are a few older places like St. Augustine, which is actually one of the earliest U.S. cities. My uncle had a place there that supposedly was built in the late 17th century. It almost became a historical landmark before my uncle bought it.
My brother and I stayed there one summer and it was probably one of the creepiest times of my life. Every night, my brother and I would hear moaning coming from outside the door (he and I stayed in the same room), and sometimes we'd wake up in the morning and there would be handprints on the door inside the room, even though we would lock it.
One night about 3 weeks into the summer, things changed for the worst. My brother passed out early from fishing all day, but I somehow worked up the nerve to see if I could actually see the ghost. When I heard the moaning, I tried to sneak the door open so I could "catch" the ghost, but when I opened it up, nothing was there. I decided it might be better if I pretended to be asleep, so I got into bed and hid under the covers.
Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later I saw the sliding glass door ease open and a figure came in. I couldn't tell if it was floating or not, but it kinda made its way over to the bed. I started freaking out, but I knew I had to keep pretending I was asleep to make sure I didn't scare the ghost away before I could get a closer look.
As I laid there, the ghost bent over and slowly pulled the sheets down. I cracked my eyes open and couldn't believe what I was seeing. The ghost looked just like my uncle. It must have been an ancient dead relative of his. As I kept my charade up, the ghost reached into my shorts and started touching my thighs, working its dead hands up my legs until finally his cold, clammy hands wrapped around my tiny unit and tugged on it until I got an erection. I was so terrified of the ghost that I just sat there and took it without making a move. This probably happened about 60-70 times during the summer. Each time I was too terrified to move, although a couple nights I accidentally moaned out of fear.
To this day, I'm scared to death of ghosts and I wish I could get the guts to tell my uncle to get the hell out of his house before something terrible happens to him.
