A Hungry Ghost
My grandfather told me this story about an experience that happened to one of his best friends. There was this house in East Tennessee that everyone claimed was haunted and no one dare to spend the night in. This particular friend of my grandfather, wanting to be the brave hometown hero, decided to spend the night there.
He went into the house well before dark and set up his stuff in the upstairs bedroom. He, being a big believer in early to bed, early to rise, was in bed by 8pm. Precisely at 9pm, he heard the main door opened and then the kitchen door. He heard pots and pans being removed from the cabinets and soon he could hear the sizzling of meat frying. In fact, he could actually smell bacon and eggs. He wanted to go downstairs, but thought better of it.
Afterwards, he heard a kitchen chair being pulled out and something sat down. He could hear the fork scraping the plate. A while later he heard the chair move again, dishes were placed in the sink and water was run. He heard the clatter as the dishes were washed and put up and the pots and pans were replaced in the cabinets. Finally, he heard the kitchen door and then the main door opened and closed again. He stayed under his sleeping bed till morning because he was too scared to move.
Of course, nobody believed that he stayed the night in that haunted house, so he did it one more time. This time he sprinkled flour all over the kitchen floor. He really thought his friends were playing a trick on him. He sprinkled so much flour that an ant couldn’t have walked through without leaving a track. He waited in the dark upstairs and the visitor came at exactly 9pm for his meal again. After, it had left, he rushed downstairs to see if there were footprints in the telltale flour. THERE WEREN’T ANY!