My parents own a house that has a strange story.

It dates back all the way from when they bought it.

But I believe that they tamed it down for me.

Back when I heard it for the first time, it was at a family camping trip that we took

when I was young.

My little brother and I were sitting around the ring of the campfire, taking turns telling

scary stories, until we finally convinced my dad to tell us one.

My mom had already got inside the tent and was probably sleeping by this point.

She was usually against the idea of scary stories because of the nightmares that my brother

would have every once in a while.

The story was about a house where a ghost of a man lived, one that was looking for his

missing daughter.

It scared the heck out of us, I remember that.

I was around 15 when I realized that the story he had told us with a few details here

in there was actually about the house where we were living.

When we were about to move out, my dad used to show the house around for people who

were thinking about renting it, and that's also around the time when things started getting

strange around there.

I had gotten home from school one afternoon a bit early because it didn't have to take

fourth period class.

I went straight to my room to leave my backpack and stuff before going back to the kitchen

to get something to eat.

...