I also used to believe that loud singing scared away ghosts and other assorted bogeymen. This always got me in trouble during late night visits to the bathroom.
Still laughing over the vampire's aversion to gingham...
I used to believe that since ghosts were bad they ate everything kids hated like medicine and vegetables. I used to leave the ghosts I thought lived on my back stairs food I hated. Now I realize it was mostly that cats that ate the food especially since I put catfood there alot.
I found nothing unusual about the Stay Puft Marshmallow man in Ghostbusters. Being a kid I accepted everything, no matter how strange, as making perfect sense, so I just assumed it was common knowledge that ghosts were made of marshmallows and I just hadn't been told that yet.
I used to believe that the ghost of Manfred von Richthofen (the Red Baron) haunted my room, namely because my friend and I once got bored and tried to "call a ghost." Naturally, we took it as a sign that Manfred was there whenever something fell in my closet. I used to blame every strange little sound in the night on him, often saying, "Manfred, go back to bed! I'm trying to sleep!"
Once, my older brother and I were home alone, and we kept hearing strange noises--ie, papers crashing in the kitchen--but when we went to investigate, nothing had moved at all. After that, we locked ourselves in his room whenever we were home alone and wouldn't come out until Mom or Dad got back.
Manfred was such a troublemaker. :P
when was small, i thought ghosts were everywhere so i would yell in every room, "Hey you ghosts, go away!"
I yelled that in a craft store and everyone in the store as terrified.
The next week, the store closed down. i think it was because of me!!
I used to believe that the steam rising off my food was ghosts. one evening my mother put a fresh bowl os pasta down in front of me. i was starving so i grabbed my fork and went to eat a mouthful and suddenly saw it!GHOSTS! i screamed and threw my pasta to the floor, smashing the bowl, and ran crying and screaming to my room.
When I was 7, my cousin, then 14, told me that when a train whistle was blown, a little boy who was decapitated by a train would come looking for a head to take.
I am still unsettled when I hear a train whistle.
On a trip to the mountains, my uncle told me and my cousins that the sign, "Watch out for Falling Rock" meant that the ghost of the evil Indian chief, Falling Rock, was loose and that we had to watch out for him because he liked to murder kids. I avoided the mountains for years.
As a young boy, I was told by my parents that a type of ghost roamed the streets at night. This ghost was split in half at the waist. The upper part would roam the streets looking for victims and the only way to stop him is to find the lower half and pour salt so that he could not reconnect. I always carried salt!
When i was young i watched ghostbusters and was convinced that they actually existed. i was busy searching through the phone book looking for their number because i was convinced that there was a poltergeist in my attic. It was only my older sister who told me i wouldnt find it because bill murray had better things to do.
I used to believe that there were two ghosts who would come and check each kid's room at night. If they couldn't hear breathing they would move on. If they did, they would come in and dump a whole gallon of ice cold water on you and you would freeze. So whenever I heard the wind blowing outside, I would hold my breath. Once I passed out.
My elementery school was named after Rachel Carson, and everyone said her ghost haunted the school. I was convinced she was burried in the basement, so i went up to the principle and said
"i know that Rachel Carson is burried in the basement." She just looked at me funny and said
"we dont have a basement."
When I was a kid, I used to think there were ghosts in my bedroom. One day my mum came home and gave me a spray bottle full of clear liquid and said it was called "Ghost Spray". She told me to spray it whenever I felt scared and it would make the ghosts disappear. I believed this for years and years until I got old enough to realise it was just water in a spray bottle.
There were Ghosts in my basement so if I had to go down there at night for some ghastly reason I would sing the Ghostbusters theme song at the top of my lungs because I figured would scare them away long enough to do whatever errand I had to do down there before running back up the stairs.
when I was younger I used to think there was a ghost in my laundry room name smokey so i never went in there as a child and when i did i made my little brother go in first.
When I was a little girl my brother told me that white, styrofoam packing peanuts were, in fact, ghost poop. It seemed perfectly logical to my 4 year old ears, and from what little I knew about ghosts it looked exactly like what ghost poop should look like.
Ah, the stories I could tell on my superstitions..
But one of my personal favourite beliefs as a kid had to be my fears of ghosts. They literally haunted my childhood.
This is a little long..
I was one of those kids with an overactive imagination and a love of horror films, which quickly proved a bad combination. I was hooked on the films during the day and terrified once the lights went out.
All of this resulted in the eventual belief forming that if I did not have every part of my body covered by the duvet, a ghost could grab me and "drag me away." I was never clear on where I would be dragged; just certain I would be pulled from the safety of my bed into some place of unknown horrors.
"The duvet rule" as I referred to it, was not only necessary when I was in bed. It was also vital if I got up in the night to use the bathroom or get a drink.
So, imagine the fun as, my head covered by a duvet, and my hands clutching the sheets around me, I shuffled down the landing, feeling my way to the bathroom each night. It made quite a sight for my parents, should they wake up.
Also, I was firmly convinced that a ghost lived under my bed. Don't ask me how. But I was convinced an evil spirit waited there for me and it was only a matter of time before we met up. To prevent this, I went to the extremes of keeping a hammer beside my bed.
This belief died a death the night when, my dear older brother, who knew of every one of these fears, decided to hide under my bed after everyone was asleep, for his idea of a joke. He waited there, shook the bed slightly until I woke up, and then slid his hand up and grabbed my ankle.
I was prepared for the moment. I let out a blood-curdling scream, reached out, grabbed my hammer, leant down to my ankle, and firmly battered the hand holding it.
My parents were not pleased with being woken up. I was not pleased with my brother's sense of humor. My brother was not pleased with entering casualty with three broken bones in his hand.
But one good thing came of it all. For some reason, the night completely erased my fear of ghosts. So I guess it wasn't all bad.
My brother, nursing three broken bones, may not have agreed.
When I was about four I started to believe that everytime I couldn't find something it was because the ghosts living in my grandma's house (where we lived, too) were playing jokes on me and hiding them. I used to walk around saying, "Come on, guys! It's not funny anymore!" Still to this day I find myself thinking about that whenever I can't find something!
Throughout elementary school I was convinced that there was a ghost that lived in the girls bathroom. My so called friends told me that they had seen it and it threatened them with a knife. Naturally I was scared to death whenever I had to pee and got outta there as soon as possible.
We also used to believe that this drain type thing with little holes in it was full of eyeballs. We spent our recesses staring down the little holes trying to see if there was an eyeball looking back at us. We were demented little children. Haha!
I used to believe that there were ghosts in the attic and even when the lights were on they were there. We lived in a house that was over 200 years old, so I *knew* something sinister had occured there before we moved in, hence the need for ghosts. I also knew that repeating the word "wing" as I went up to get what I needed and came back would protect me from them.