Alright, here’s the truth, and my mother won’t believe me, but I know what’s going on. Last summer, nearly a year ago, we moved into a new house in a historical downtown area. The Bloody Battle of Franklin took place here, (not making this up, look it up). National Geographic called it the number 1 most underrated, overlooked blood bath of the Civil War. Now, our house isn’t that old, it was built in the 1960’s, and it’s sandwiched nicely between two others, like condos. The walls are old and kinda thin—so when anyone’s doing anything too loud, we ALL hear it.
The house was built on the Confederate campgrounds, and it’s in the historical part of the officially “Most Haunted Town of Tennessee.” We’re living in a haunting waiting to happen! And I guess it did. Ever since I started reading aloud at night on some strange whim, there’s someone else in the house. If I forget to read that night, we all hear banging and slamming doors—even the neighbors! They ask what we’re doing so late at night, we say nothing, ask what THEY were doing, they say nothing, and finally I realized something: the house was peaceful if I read aloud at night. In fact, my room felt safer, like someone was watching over me. The vanilla candles my mom loves so much sputter if I hesitate too long, and the house will creak and bang. My mom doesn’t believe me, but the evidence says it all. My house is definitely haunted, by a mildly-moody, story-loving ghost. I’m guessing a young Confederate soldier, and I’ve taken to calling him Thomas. Sometimes, when I’m falling asleep at night, I swear I can feel hands on the back of my neck, or tugging gently at my hair. Some of my friends say they can feel something too, before I even mention Thomas! My house is haunted, and I’ve got a ghostly roommate.