When I get people to tell me their ghost stories, they usually have more than one. These are from a co-worker:
When Marsha was a young girl in Alabama, she used to go swimming with her older brother. The two kids would walk down to the fishing pier that led into the lake. Marsha would jump off one side where the water was shallow since she didn’t swim well, and her brother would go off the other side where it was deeper. This particular day, there were no other swimmers at the lake. Marsha stepped off the wrong side and went under. She knew she was drowning, but suddenly she felt hands under her arms and she was pulled back to the surface. She was sure it was her brother that saved her, but after rubbing the water from her eyes she saw that she was alone and her brother was at the other side of the lake, oblivious to her troubles. The incident frightened her so bad that for seventy years she never told anyone.
As an adult, Marsha lived in Manassas, Virginia. She rented an old house from a doctor who had moved to Florida. Her brother came to visit and they were sitting in the living room, watching television. Her brother looked towards the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. “Who’s the kid?” he asked. Marsha looked up and there was a little boy in pajamas and a robe looking in at them. He suddenly vanished before either of them could get up to find out where he came from. They looked around the house, but saw no sign of a child.
Marsha asked neighbors about the little boy. She found out that the doctor who owned the house had a five year old son that drowned in the pool that used to be set up in the backyard. Was that the little boy they saw?
Marsha had a friend who married a widower. This friend was having problems sleeping in bed with her new husband. In the middle of the night, a cold, invisible “something” would start pushing her off the bed. The bride persuaded the husband to sell the house and move. Marsha never did hear if the ex-wife moved with them or not.