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It all started when I moved into my old house I used to live in when I was a kid. I hated that house from the bottom of my heart because it is the same exact house my dad died in when I was three years old. I had no choice to move there because I was having massive money issues and my mom still owns that house so I did not have to pay for it. I always knew the house was haunted even when I was little but I had to deal with it.

"I am a thirty year old man for God's sake, I have to man up," I said to myself.

I would always go to the local neighborhood Walmart for groceries—you know, the smaller ones with the green logo. I loved that little place because there were not many people, very good prices, and nice workers. There was this one older man at the age of about sixty. He was one of the nicest clerks and would always call me son. I figured he called me that because most older people seem to like that name. It was so easy to start up a good conversation with him because he would always agree with everything I said.

Every day for months he would greet me when I would walk in the store and ask how my day was. I would always say, "Good," but some days when I said that, he would look at me in disbelief. That kind of creeped me out because when he would have that look, it would always be a day when it was not going so well.

Whenever I would talk to him about my dad he would just not respond at all and would quickly change the subject. I thought he probably had the same experience as me. One time I told him how I can't remember how my dad died because of my age and my mom would refuse to tell me. He would look off to the side like he was reflecting on something from his past. I couldn't blame him; after all I knew how it felt. Day after day he seemed to be less engaged in the conversations even if it was not about my dad. It would seem as if he was trying to hold back something which made me feel kind of uncomfortable but since I knew him so well I really wasn't that afraid.

One time I asked him what his name was and he said, "Al." I thought it was weird how his name was the same as my dad's and when I told him that he just said, "Yeah," very quietly and changed the subject.

I grew very suspicious and was starting to think that this guy was somehow related to my father's death. The day after he was not there, I asked one of the other clerks where Al was and she looked at me weird.

"Who?" she asked.

"AL!" I said.

She told me that Al died twenty-seven years ago and only worked here for one week. My heart skipped a beat and I almost passed out.

She asked if I was OK and I replied, "I'm fine."

I quickly drove back to my house to soak in what just happened. While I was driving I thought how my dad died exactly twenty-seven years ago and how he responded to my comments about my father. Later that night before bed, the man appeared in my house.

"Son, it has been me this whole time," I screamed in fear but he just hushed me.

I still had a doubt, he could of been just some psycho but something told me it was my father. He started to disappear and at that moment is when I knew for a fact it had to be him.

"A human cannot just disappear like that," I said to myself.

The next day my mom was murdered, the police were never able to find the killer or any traces of him. On that day he came back to me and said one word until he disappeared forever.

"Shhh." He flashed a dark smile and then vanished.

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