It was a nice, sunny day. It was summer and I was returning home from the beach with my friend. A black van drove by us, but suddenly, it stopped. The door unexpectedly opened and we saw this old man sitting.
Once he saw us through the open door, his eyes opened widely and he tried to say something. He rushed to the door but the man who was also in there quickly closed the door before the old man had a chance to say something. The van drove off. We were both confused about what we just saw. I had a feeling I saw him before. We were in a small town by the sea, so basically everyone knew each other.
“He looks familiar,” a friend of mine who was there said.
“Right? I was just thinking about that,” I said. But we each went to our own apartment.
While I was eating, I remembered where I saw him. Over the phone, I told my friend to meet me at church. When we got there, there was this man, but just a photo of him, pinned on wall, on paper. He was on an obituary. We were so confused now. I knew it was him.
“He isn’t ghost, isn’t he?” she asked.
“What? No! Of course not.”
But at that point, I couldn’t blame her for coming up with this idea, because I wasn’t sure about it either.
We rushed to our parents telling them about this. My parents couldn’t take us seriously and hers went to his funeral last week, so they believed us even less. We didn’t care, we were sure about this. We went to the police station. Police officers burst out laughing about our story. Except one officer. He invited us to another room.
“Are you 100% sure that you saw THAT man. Hopefully you know this isn’t something to joke about, right?”
He looked straight in our eyes. We both agreed we were sure we saw him.
“Good, because the man you girls are talking about is my father. I knew he couldn’t have passed away because of his age. For God’s sake, he was 52. And his health was perfectly fine. I tried to convince myself to believe his death but it doesn’t really makes sense.” Those were the last words he said before we agreed on a plan to find this out.
I couldn’t sleep all night. The next morning, I met the officer and my friend.
“I have some news,” he said, “the police opened the grave and they found nothing. So, he isn’t dead. They believe your story and the police launched a search for him.”
After a week we found out he was found well and alive. He didn’t remember a thing that happened. But we were happy everything ended well.