My Favorite Ghost Story

It's my favorite because it's true.

My family owns a funeral home in a small town. I grew up with it, and it never occurred to me that it should be creepy.

When the funeral home was not busy (i.e., no bodies), my best friend, Suzan, and I would regularly play there. It had great big rooms with lots of space to play, a soda machine, bathrooms handy - it was a great playhouse.

One day, Suzan and I (we were probably around 7 or 8) were playing in the chapel area (which connected via double doors to the casket showroom), and we looked up to see an adult male-sized gloved hand pull the double doors shut. No big deal. It was probably my Dad or his business partner Doug, or one of my brothers.

Um, no. After playing for a little while longer, we went up the hill to my house, and found out from my Mom that Dad and Doug were out on a business call. Two of my brothers were out playing golf, and my third brother was in town doing something or other and had been gone all day. Everyone who could have been a reasonable person to be in the casket showroom was away.

So we think the hand must have been a shadow and the doors were sucked shut by a draft, right?

RIGHT?

No.

We go BACK to the funeral home (we really didn't understand how creepy this was) and looked in the casket room. This sounds like a made-up ghost story, but I swear on all that is holy, this is the truth...

There was a large black glove laying on a closed casket beside the double doors.