This is a real ghost stories online extra.

Hi, Tony and Jenny. Thank you so much for listening to my story and for telling a bunch of

other people's stories so that I can listen to those as well. I really enjoy your show.

You guys always make me laugh and help me relax when I'm working too many hours at work.

I have a story to share. Um, I wrote it down actually,

but then I thought instead of sending it in, I would just record myself reading it since,

uh, when I listen to other people's stories, I love it when I can hear their voice telling

the story. Not that I don't love your voice, Tony, but I think it's fun to hear how they

feel about it. So, um, here goes. I will read it off for you guys. My story takes place when I was

11 years old and living in Guilford, England. My family was living in a mock tutor house that must have been

built in the 50s or 60s. The house was large and well taken care of. As a child, I was very

sensitive to the energy, not only of people, but of buildings and locations. My mother, very rightly,

took us to visit all of the many historic sites, castles, and monuments that are all over the UK.

But she would always tell me not to be silly when I didn't want to go down into the dungeons and places where a lot of people had been killed or tortured.

Often, I would have to follow the rest of the family,

afraid of being lost from the group into these places,

holding in my tears and panic,

trying not to feel all the residual suffering and anger.

She is not at all sensitive and has since apologized,

since I am now older and more articulate

and could tell her how I was feeling. I still like to give her a hard time and tell her that

she scarred me for life, but it's all in good fun. So, the house we lived in felt full of memories

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