Ok, I do not believe in ghosts, or the dead coming back from the grave. Most people enjoy a good ghost story, but what happened to me cannot be explained. This is a real true story. I was about 18 at the time, I moved out of my parent’s house to set out on my own. Well one day I ran into a friend of mine, and he told me about a place called Witch Mountain at the dead end of the street I lived on.
The story went like this; there use to be an old woman who lived at the end of the street that I lived on. The old woman was a witch and soon the town found out about it and burned her. After her death, strange things happened in and around the old house, she lived in, so people called it Witch Mountain.
He told me the old house was still standing; I thought to myself, he has to be making this up. Then he told me what happened to him when he went to Witch Mountain. He told me it was in the middle of the day and he heard funny sounds, it turned to night, and I don’t know what all.
Well later on, my little brother came over and I told him about it. He wanted to check it out, so I thought to myself I know their is no such thing as Witch Mountain, but lets check it out anyway it might be fun. Therefore, we followed the street to the dead end; sure enough, there stood the old house. It looked like no one has lived in it for years, the windows all busted out, the paint was faded, it was a wreak.
As soon as we pulled up the car died and would not start. We started hearing these funny noises. It sounded like dogs growling, and cats screaming. I wanted out of there and I mean as soon as possible! My brother shouted there’s a light on in that old house! Finally the car started and we got out of there!
Ever since then I have never went back, and never plan to, but I will never forget my visit to Witch Mountain.