My name is Abigale Compton. I am 17 now, but I'm
not alive. I have bleach blonde hair with black underneath. My hair is layered, and I tease it quite often. My body is curvy, but im a ghost. I want to be a normal teenage girl. But when I was A baby it all went to Hell! Life for my Father and I will never be the same. We died, Young. I in the hospital, my father, doing what he loved.
Boston Massachusetts. March 11, 1992. I was 3 months old and I was dead. I had a seizure and stopped breathing. I was lucky enough to have been in the hospital at the time and was almost instantly resuscitated. Long Beach California, same day March 11, 1992 my 19 year old Birth father "Freddy" had skidded into an oncoming car on his motorcycle and was killed instantly. We died within an hour of each other. This is where it all ended and where it all began. For both of us.
(Neither Freddy or my birth mother ever had custody of me, I was adopted at birth and raised by a family unrelated to me by blood but still the only family I have ever known) My first memory of any paranormal experience was in my grandparents beach house.
It all began at age 5 maybe even younger. The beach house had a lovely old staircase, it was painted and polished and always well lit. So...
There was no obvious reason for the terror I felt every time that I had to climb them! I was never able take those stairs in a normal or dignified manner until I was well into my teens. It seemed that by the time I got to the 2nd step I'd just be overwhelmed with an intense urge to run and run fast! One day I was running up that staircase so fast that I didn't see my grandmother and accidentally ran into her, she bellowed at me "you take those stairs like the devil himself was chasing you!" at the time it seemed an adequate description.
This "staircase" phenomena continued well into my thirties but only when I was alone in the house. This same house gave me an overpowering urge to try and move things with my mind, but I was always afraid to actually try it, (or put my mind to it) just in case it might work!
Later on when in my early 20's a friend from the city stayed overnight at the beach house with me. We had spent a Saturday morning with my young daughter watching cartoons. When it came time to get ready for the day my friend went halfway up the living room stairs when she stopped suddenly. She looked at her pocket book which she had forgotten at the foot of stairs and she kind of smiled, then she said "do you ever feel like you can move things with your mind when you are in this house?"
I realized right then that I was not the only one who got "feelings" from the beach house. (I've heard that this old friend of mine is now a working medium/psychic) Built by my grandfather and used just as a summer cottage for many years. The beach house was always packed to its human capacity every summer night from the early 20's until the mid 60's (when it was renovated and winterized and became their private home). During the beach house glory days, my grandparents rented out rooms to random circus acts who performed at the nearby amusement park. Poker games were played late into the night. Laughter and music abound until the wee morning hours.
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This Will Be A Short Story. Tell Me If I Should Write More I will Be Happy To Type It :]
