I never believed in ghosts. To me, stories of the supernatural were just that — ghost stories, born from imagination and fear. I used to laugh at paranormal stories and roll my eyes at people claiming they had real ghost stories to tell. But that changed the day strange things began happening to me. What started as faint sounds and odd dreams slowly became undeniable. Looking back now, I can say this is my true story — the one that made me whisper, “I didn’t believe in ghosts until this happened.”
The Whisper in the Haveli — My First Ghost Sighting
My first ghost encounter happened when I was in Class 10, preparing for my board exams. We were living in an old haveli-style house with empty rooms, long corridors, and a heavy silence that grew after sunset. My room was on the first floor, quiet and isolated, while most of my family stayed downstairs.
One evening, while I was studying, I heard someone faintly call my name. I ignored it, assuming it was my imagination. But the sound came again, clearer this time. I stepped out, checked every room upstairs, even the terrace. No one was there. The air felt still, cold, and oddly watchful.
That night, I kept the lights on and locked my door. It was my first ghost sighting, or at least the first time I felt certain that I wasn’t alone. For years, I tried to explain the supernatural experience, but logic never quite fit the memory.
The Girl in the White Kurta — A Real Ghost Story from My Hostel
In Class 11, I moved into a hostel — a three-seater room that was almost always just mine. My roommate rarely stayed, and I spent countless nights there alone. There were rumors that a girl had taken her life in the hostel a few years before. No one knew which room, but we all knew she was a PCM student, like me.
That’s when the nightmares began. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, seeing flashes — a girl in a white kurta-pajama, sitting on my desk, or near the window, her long hair swaying slightly as if touched by an invisible wind. Sometimes I’d feel her presence even when my eyes were open.
The fear consumed me until I hung dreamcatchers around my room. Maybe it was psychological, or maybe it worked, but the nightmares stopped. To this day, I don’t know what it was. But that room became part of my personal archive of scary stories, one that still gives me chills whenever I think about it.
The Watcher During Meditation — When Spirits Seek Energy
Years later, in college, I turned to meditation for peace. It helped me find balance until I began to feel an unsettling presence again. Whenever I sat alone in silence, I could sense someone watching me. Not in a harmful way, but as if I wasn’t truly alone in that moment of stillness.
Someone once told me that people who meditate emit high positive energy, which can attract souls who haven’t yet moved on. Supposedly, they seek that energy to be freed. I don’t know if that’s true, but the explanation stayed with me. It made me realize how blurred the line between spiritual and supernatural experiences can be. For a while, I only meditated in groups, afraid of what I might attract alone.
Haunting Thoughts — Was It Real or Imagination?
Even now, I wonder: Did I see a ghost? Were those moments evidence of ghosts, or just tricks of my mind born from fear and suggestion? The rational part of me wants to dismiss them, but another part – the one that felt those chills, heard those whispers, and saw those fleeting figures – can’t quite forget.
These weren’t stories from others; they were my own. My own real ghost stories, etched into memory. Each one left me a little more open to the idea that maybe ghosts aren’t just figments of imagination, maybe they’re echoes, energies, or emotions that linger in the spaces we leave behind.
Summing Up
I began this journey certain that ghosts weren’t real, but life had other plans. I’ve seen, felt, and heard things that defy explanation. Whether they were spirits, memories, or something in between, I may never know. What I do know is that these moments changed me. I now look at every creak in the floorboard, every cold gust of air, and every flicker of shadow with quiet respect. Because sometimes, the real ghost stories are the ones we live ourselves, and they never truly leave us.
