I never used to believe in those things that went bump in the night. Until 4 years ago this week when our friend died in a motorcycle accident. After he passed we frequently had little visits from him. The stereo in the garage used to turn on in the middle of the night, full volume to a local blues station. A station that we never listened to. He used to show up every now and then, turn on the radio, and after I would acknowledge him, it wouldn't happen for a few months.

My Mom said that she saw my Grandfather and her Father after they died. To be honest, I kind of thought she had an over-active, grief-stricken imagination.

A few years ago, her husband’s aunt passed away. Mom and Aunt had been very close and Mom started hearing things in her house. Something that sounded like Aunt’s laugh. I again thought that Mom was just really sad and this was her way of coping.

I was talking to my Stepdad on the phone one day and he said that he woke up the night before because he thought Mom was talking loudly on the phone but she was asleep on the couch when he went into the living room. I figure that Mom has talked to him so much about hearing Aunt that he’s starting to dream about it.

About a week later my sister calls me and she’s freaking out and she asks me to call Mom’s phone number and then call her back. I do. She asks what I heard on the machine and I told her it was the generic message that Mom keeps on there that came with the machine.

My sister had called the number right before calling me and instead of the generic message, there was Aunt saying “You’ve reached Aunt, leave a message!”

We're all fascinated by what we cannot explain. Whether it's vampires (side note: Edward Cullen is NOT a vampire. He is a creepy stalker douche bag who needs to meet Buffy or Blade or even old skool Anita Blake in a dark alley), werewolves, ghosts, monsters, or God, we love to take things on faith.

Because, truly, that is what is comes down to. Faith. Belief in something beyond us, beyond the basic senses and it's something we have true control over. We either believe in something, or we don't. We can have a weak belief, or one that is strong enough to survive the test of time.

I believe in ghosts. Places I've lived... I don't have a choice in it.

Two little girls I would baby sit when I was fourteen, they would talk to "the old lady" all the time. Every night I was there, I'd be reading them a story, and they're talking to the old lady. At first, I thought the old lady was simply kids being kids. How children imagine things that aren't there.

Then I saw the old lady; I'd broken up with my first love, and I was still weepy over the whole thing (really, when is a teenage girl *not* weepy over a boy?) and I was holding the littlest girl in my lap, smelling her hair, when the old lady appeared on the chair across from me. She had the saddest smile on her face, her eyes swallowed up by wrinkled skin. I almost dropped the little girl in fright, and the old woman disappeared. I never again sat in that chair.

My very first apartment, I had a girlfriend spend the night (we'd had fights with our mutual partners and were having a 'men are scum' night), and after we went to bed, neither of us could sleep. We lay in that queen size bed, on our bellies, with pillows tucked under us just right and snuggled together for maximum warmth. Just as we'd doze off, we'd be jolted away by an old woman who got a thrill out of seeing us jump. I swear, if a ghost could laugh out loud, she'd have been rolling around cackling like a crazed witch.

This same old woman would check on my neighbors daughter when she was sick. She'd rub my forehead when I had a headache. Not a real rub, and not on command, but when I would be truly ill and want only to pass out to get away from the ache, I'd feel her touch me between the eyes. It didn't make the pain go away, but it reminded me of when I was small, and I'd feel better.

In that same side, I've felt the angry presence of someone who would not rub my forehead when I was hurting. If they had the chance, I fully believe they'd have shoved a spike in my eye and called it a day. Vanishing pools of blood on my bedroom floor, the sensation that I was being choked when I was completely alone, and shadows moving around my bed at night that had me terrified enough I'd leave during the witching hour and sleep in my car.

Not everyone caught in that forever twilight was at peace with their leaving.

Okay so this time of year ghosts and ghost stories and spookiness of all sorts seem to be everywhere. The supernatural has always been something I've been interested in. I love a good ghost story. Sometimes I don't even mind being part of a good ghost story. Like the time I was at a house alone and a disembodied voice whispered, "hello" in my ear.

My house is a new house, we're the only inhabitants it has ever had. Although, that doesn't really mean much when it comes to things that go bump in the night. Several months ago I was in bed watching television and reading a magazine. My bedroom door was closed, I heard the knob rattle and the door swung open and I could hear my husband and children all accounted for downstairs.

About a week or so later I was back on my bed watching "Bones" and I saw my son walk by the bedroom door. Actually I only saw him from the waist down but I would have sworn it was my son, so I called out to him and he didn't respond. I figured he didn't hear me so I went back to watching the show. A few minutes later my youngest daughter came bounding up the stairs and into my room. I asked her to get her brother for me that he was in his room.

"No, he's not, Mom!" She said emphatically.

"Yes, he is, just go check please."

"No, he's downstairs asleep on the couch."

I got up and checked all the bedrooms myself and sure enough, no one was else was upstairs and my son was sound asleep on the couch.