Title 31

This incident happened to me when I was about 9 years old and living in upstate New York. One night my father was playing his guitar in the living room when he decided it was getting late and sent me and my younger brother off to bed. He tucked us in and kissed us goodnight but we insisted he play us a lullaby on his guitar before we went to sleep. My father began to play and I slowly drifted off into a tranquil slumber. A few hours had passed when my little brother woke me up in the middle of the night. He said he couldn't sleep because the music woke him up. I was about to ask him what he was talking about when I heard it too. It sounded like a guitar and it was coming from the living room so I immediately realized that it was my father. I stared at the clock -- it was 2 in the morning. I couldn't understand why my father was up so late, so I got up and walked with my little brother to the living room. It was dark and the light switch was at the far end of the wall. I saw my father sitting on the couch with the guitar in his hand. He had his back turned so he didn't notice us entering the room. So I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Daddy" I said, "It's late and we can't sleep with all the noise." Then he turned around and I saw something that made my blood run cold. He had no face. The arms holding the guitar weren't even arms, they were just a dark mass that held the instrument. I screamed and grabbed my little brother, we ran to my parents’ room and banged on the door. My parents let us in and were startled to see us in such a panic. My father immediately thought there might have been an intruder in the house, so he grabbed a baseball bat my brother had left in the hallway and made his way into the living room. He turned on the lights and searched every room in the house. There was no one there and all of the doors had been locked. My mother was convinced that it was all just a bad dream that me and my brother had been having but my father didn't think so. He sat down and began to tell us the history of his guitar. He told us that the instrument was very old and belonged to his cousin who had since passed away. His mother gave the guitar to my father because she claimed it would haunt her in the middle of the night, playing the music of her late son. She believed that the spirit of her son would play the guitar while the family slept. She would have thrown it away if my father hadn't taken it off her hands. Well, needless to say we took the instrument to a pawn shop the very next day and had many a sleepless night following the incident. To this day, I can sometimes hear the music in the back of my mind. True story.


	He Had No Face This incident happened to me when I was about 9 years old and living in upstate New York. One night my father was playing his guitar in the living room when he decided it was getting late and sent me and my younger brother off to bed. He tucked us in and kissed us goodnight but we insisted he play us a lullaby on his guitar before we went to sleep. My father began to play and I slowly drifted off into a tranquil slumber. A few hours had passed when my little brother woke me up in the middle of the night. He said he couldn't sleep because the music woke him up. I was about to ask him what he was talking about when I heard it too. It sounded like a guitar and it was coming from the living room so I immediately realized that it was my father. I stared at the clock -- it was 2 in the morning. I couldn't understand why my father was up so late, so I got up and walked with my little brother to the living room. It was dark and the light switch was at the far end of the wall. I saw my father sitting on the couch with the guitar in his hand. He had his back turned so he didn't notice us entering the room. So I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Daddy" I said, "It's late and we can't sleep with all the noise." Then he turned around and I saw something that made my blood run cold. He had no face. The arms holding the guitar weren't even arms, they were just a dark mass that held the instrument. I screamed and grabbed my little brother, we ran to my parents’ room and banged on the door. My parents let us in and were startled to see us in such a panic. My father immediately thought there might have been an intruder in the house, so he grabbed a baseball bat my brother had left in the hallway and made his way into the living room. He turned on the lights and searched every room in the house. There was no one there and all of the doors had been locked. My mother was convinced that it was all just a bad dream that me and my brother had been having but my father didn't think so. He sat down and began to tell us the history of his guitar. He told us that the instrument was very old and belonged to his cousin who had since passed away. His mother gave the guitar to my father because she claimed it would haunt her in the middle of the night, playing the music of her late son. She believed that the spirit of her son would play the guitar while the family slept. She would have thrown it away if my father hadn't taken it off her hands. Well, needless to say we took the instrument to a pawn shop the very next day and had many a sleepless night following the incident. To this day, I can sometimes hear the music in the back of my mind. True story. [email protected]