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A True Scary Story

For me sometimes the scariest stories are those that happen during the day. Picture this- my nephew was four years old. He was riding in the backseat of my car. My mama was riding in the front passenger front and I was driving. We’d picked up my nephew to spend a few days with grandmama. I pulled up to a stoplight at an intersection not far from mama’s house. Suddenly his small toddler voice said calmly, “Someone died in that house.” The calm tone seemed almost to come from a wise person much older. I remember the chills that went through me. I looked back at him. He sat staring out of the car window, expressionless. I followed his gaze to an old empty house on the corner across the street. He didn’t frown or seem scared, just stating a fact. That house had been never been occupied for long that I could recall (I was in my twenties at the time). People moved in and out. No one had lived there for several years. I was rattled and looked at my mother. She sat stiff staring head, not looking at me. The light turned green and I drove on. After we got to her house, my nephew was back to being a normal little boy. I pulled her aside and whispered, “That was strange, huh? What Brian said.” She looked away and replied, “Someone did die in that house. A man hung himself. That was when your brother was a baby and you weren’t born.” I tried to ask more but she changed the subject. I didn’t press it because frankly I was still creeped out. We never spoke about it again. My nephew is grown and doesn’t remember the incident. That’s probably for the best. Happy Halloween!

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