When I was a child I lived in a haunted house in Flat Bay, NL.
One night, when I was about five years old, I woke up and saw a man, or a very tall woman, staring at me from behind the wood stove. The apparition was transparent, so I could see its bones, and it had a kind of wispy glow surrounding it. It did not move; it just kept staring at me with its hollow eye sockets.
I sat up in bed and thought that I might be dreaming. I kept staring at it trying to figure out if it was real. The more intently I stared, the more intently the apparition stared. I thought that I was seeing things, but then it moved ever so slightly. I decided that I wasn’t seeing things and started screaming.
My mother and father woke up and came to see what the fuss was about. I had been sleeping in a small bed, in a room that wasn’t really a bedroom, more like a living room with a bed in the corner, close to the bedroom where my mother and father slept.
“What, what is it?” my mother said.
I kept screaming, never taking my eyes off the skeleton. “Over there, it’s over there!”
“What’s over there?” my mother said.
“The skeleton, it’s over there!”
My father walked toward where I was pointing, but when he got nearer to the stove, it moved over behind a chair. I kept screaming and pointing, my father kept going back and forth from the stove to the chair, and the skeleton kept running away from my father.
Finally, my father stopped, and said, “There’s nothing there.” He got fed up and went back to bed.
My mother tried to reassure me, told me that I was having a bad dream, and that it was just my imagination. There was nothing to worry about.
I stopped screaming, not because the thing had gone away, but because I knew that they couldn’t see it. It was staring at me, and I was scared out of my mind. My mother pulled the blanket up to my chin and went back to bed. I kept my eyes on it until I couldn’t keep them open any more. I pulled the blanket over my head and never moved an inch. I prayed and hoped that it wouldn’t come get me, then I fell asleep.
I remember that night as if it were last night. When something affects you like that, your brain vividly remembers everything.
As years went by there were a lot of strange things seen and heard in that house. Cutlery would be heard rattling in the drawers, cupboards would be heard opening and closing, and ghosts would be seen cooking and going about their business in the kitchen.
A year or two later the house was sold to relatives and they experienced occasional hauntings until they eventually built a new house to live in. The haunted house still stands and is used as a shed; however, its doors have been locked up for quite some time.
Later, when I grew older, I found out that the house had been hauled over to Flat Bay from Sandy Point, a small settlement on a peninsula just off the coast of Flat Bay that used to be inhabited by early European settlers who seasonally lived in the area during the summer fishing season.
As time went on Sandy Point became home to MiKmaq, English, and French settlers. Eventually, after confederation, government forced settlers to move further inland to the community of St. George’s. Apparently, a huge storm in the 1950s caused a gap in the peninsula creating an island.