We've all heard stories growing up about haunted houses and ghost stories told around campfires but I want to let you in on a story that I can relay firsthand.

I was raised in South Arkansas, USA a product of 60's parents. I grew up on a cattle ranch way out in the middle of no where. The first years of my life were in a house that was in the neighborhood of 100 years old. This was one of those houses that started out small and as years past it was added on to over and over again until it reached the 2500 square feet that it was when I was a child.

The house was originally owned and lived in by a man named Robert "Bob" Oliver. Bob died in this same house at the age of 88. As a child my paents used to blame alot of things on Bob like things that came up missing. I remember a day when my mother brought home groceries, as she was putting them away she and I left the room to do something else and upon returning, a jar of Mayonaise that she had placed on the table was gone. She had it in her hand and set it on the table before we left the room and then it was just gone. There was no one else in the house and the doors were locked. So Mom blamed it on Bob. it was funny and my family had a light hearted view of Bob and his antics. Bob liked to close doors and move things around at night. I would hear him walking and he even flushed the commode on a couple of occasions but it wasn't until I was 9 years old that I realized the reality of Bob.

It was mid-winter and the house was all toasty and warm against the mid-teens outside. I was asleep in the middle bedroom of the house and was awakened by a loud creaking noise like someone walking in the hallway right outside my bedroom door. I opened my eyes to see a figure entering my room and walking through beside my bed. At first I thought is was my older brother so I said something to him but he kept walking. In the darkness all I could make out was a siluhoette. To get to my brother's room one had to go through my room as the house was backward. My brother's room had originally been the living area of the house and the entrance door had been walled up. You could still see the outline of the door opening because the panelling that covered it didn't quite match up with the rest. As the figure moved through my room I got up and followed it still thinking it was my brother. As we entered my brother's room I noticed the figure didn't take the right hand turn to go to the bed. Instead it went straight through and to the place where the old entrance door had been and disappeared. Needless to say I woke my brother up and told him about it, I was scared to death, so my brother let me sleep with him the rest of the night. I talked to my Mom about it the next day and she let me know that it was probably Bob and that he would never do anything to hurt me.

After that night I saw Bob all over the place. He was in the old barn that was on the property and in the back yard. Bob was around until I was 11 years old and I saw him often. in January of 1982 our house caught on fire and burned. We made it out with just the sleeping clothes that we had on. While the house was burning it sounded as if someone were wailing and crying the whole time. The sound made my skin crawl. Again we all agreed it was Bob. We rebuilt on the property but not on the same spot. Apparently Bob was connected to the house because we never saw or heard from him again.

In conclusion I would say that haunted houses do exist simply because I lived in one. I have several other stories around Southern Haunt-spitality but not enough time to relay them. I have been around ghosts and hauntings all my life and have some great stories, maybe someone can request that hub and I'll take care of it.