It was a gloomy autumn day. My best friend and I were hanging out at my house, playing hide and seek with my brother and sister, as any outdoor activities were out of the question due to the bad weather outside. The uneasy feeling I had in my stomach made me question whether or not there was something paranormal going on in the house but I brushed it off, the thought seemed silly. Ignoring my instinct that was telling me not to step foot in our basement, I told myself that weird, unexplainable things don’t happen in real life. The basement was my perfect hiding spot, no one could find me there. But as soon as I entered the dank room, a chilly breeze washed over me. That’s when I knew I should’ve listened to the part of me that was desperately trying to tell me something was off. The light I had previously turned on was flickering like crazy, and one of the many jams my mother has stocked on a shelf flew across the room. I was terrified, in utter disbelief. I had an angry ghost in my house!
