I used to be a skeptical person. I used to be closed-minded; what could not be proven through scientific experiments and data was nonexistent. There was no such thing as mythical creatures; there were no little green men on Mars--or any other planet; and there was no afterlife waiting for us after we died. Within a time span of an hour, however, my views on the world would change forever.
            It all happened on a night one year ago; I was lying in bed, unable to sleep. Normally, I was a heavy sleeper and have no trouble falling into a deep slumber; for this reason, I was puzzled. I sat up in my bed and looked to my right: there my sister, Brooke, lying asleep in her bed. She must have been exhausted: she and I were exploring a local park, Fox Ridge Park to be exact, the night before. People claimed it was haunted by a ghost boy, we wanted to find out for ourselves. Our discovery: the rumors surrounding the park were garbage--we found no signs of paranormal activity whatsoever. My adventures tha t night should have left me fatigued--unable to stay awake. Yet, there I was unable to keep my eyes closed, unable to get a wink of sleep. 
             I buried my head under my pillow in an attempt to fall asleep. Of course, it did not work, for my attempts at sleep were interrupted by the loud crashing sounds of drums coming from down the hallway. I sat straight up. There was no one else home that night--just my sister and I. This was weird: drums did not play themselves. I did what a smart person would do: I went to go check it out. I figured that it must have been the cat, Fluffy--she is always getting into trouble. I slid out of bed, walked out of my bedroom and down the hall, opened the door to the music room were the drums were being kept. My discovery: no one was in the room--not even Fluffy. I thought this was odd, of course, but it did not bother me. I chose to believe that Fluffy was still in the music room--just in a very good hiding spot.
           It was then that I thought of the idea that maybe if I eat something, I would be able to sleep easier. I left the music room and walked downstairs into the kitchen. Despite the fact I was certain I closed it, I heard the door knob twisted and I heard the door creak open again. This still did not disturb me--it's an old door jam, it's bound to not close all the way.
         Once I arrived in the kitchen, I searched the fridge for a potential snack. I only found a loaf of bread and some jam, so I decided to make some toast. I grabbed two pieces of bread and put them in the toaster. I was about ready to grab the jam, but then a cold, ominous feeling crawled over me. I tensed up; I felt something behind me, practically breathing on my shoulder. It was a cold feeling--I felt frozen, almost paralyzed. Chills ran up my spine; a wave of fear and dread seemed to take over. It was like being in a trance: I was zoned-out, reality felt like a foggy day--a day that would never end. It was the toast that saved me. With a sudden pop the toast was out and I thought I was going to have a heart attack:  it startled me so much. Luckily, it was enough to shock me out of the eerie trance-like state.
            I heard a scratching sound coming from outside the sliding-glass door. Slowly, almost terrified that I would see a monster standing on the other side, I turned my head. To my temporary relief, I saw Fluffy outside wanting to be let in. As I opened the sliding glass door, it hit me: if Fluffy was outside the entire time, who was making all the noise on the drums earlier? The ominous feeling returned. Suddenly, Fluffy started backing up and hissing like crazy. She refusing to come inside. This alarmed me, Fluffy never hissed. She was the most loving, sweet and friendly cat on the entire planet. Why was she hissing? I turned around and found my answer: behind me there was this huge, black shadow looking down at me. My heart began to pump blood at a rate that is so fast it could not be healthy--but I did not care. I dropped that toast and ran upstairs as fast as possibly could--screaming and making plenty of noise on the way.
         "Brooke!" I yelled at the top of my lungs while tumbling up the stairs. "There is a shadowy figure downstairs and it made me drop my toast!" As I am about ready to turn the corner and into my bedroom, Brooke comes rushing out of the bedroom holding an extendable duster like a spear. I tried to stop and avoid a collision, but my reaction was too late: I crashed right into her; hence, knocking us both to the ground.
         "Jellyfish," Brooke begins by calling me by my nickname, "what's with all the noise?"
         "There is a shadowy figure downstairs," as I said this Brooke raises her eyebrow, "and it made me drop my toast." I shuddered in fear while trying to explain.
          "Darn, the way you were screaming I figured extras from a cheesy zombie movie surrounded the house again and the defense systems failed." She raised the duster," I figured I would join in on the fun."
         "I'm being serious, Brooke." I said while rolling my eyes.
         "I believe you, Jelly, but like I said, we should not have gone to the park last night--spirits do not like being disturbed." Brooke said while putting a hand on my shoulder.
         "Are you suggesting that we angered a ghost last night and now it's haunting us?" I ask her while giving her my deluxe are you fricken serious? face and flung her hand off my shoulder.
         "That is exactly what I am saying." She answered being serious for once.
         "Brooke," I began, "ghosts are not real--neither are vampires, fairies, Bigfoot, aliens or the Loch Ness Monster--they are all make-believe."
          "Let's go see what your friend downstairs thinks, then." Brooke challenged me. She got up and began walking downstairs while I stay put on the floor. She turned around, "Coming, Jelly? You're not scared, are you?" Mustering up all my courage, I followed her downstairs.
          "Of course I'm not scared, like I said, ghosts are not real." She must have sensed that I was lying, she gave me a sarcastic look of yeah, you're not scared. When we got downstairs I pointed to Brooke where I saw the shadow figure, "He was right there! And see, right there is where I dropped my toast!" Brooke walked around downstairs, looking for any signs of the shadowy figure. While she was doing this, I armed myself with a nearby pineapple from off the table.
         "Jelly, that pineapple won't be very effective against a ghost," Brooke said while laughing.
         "You never know, it is probably not a ghost--someone probably broke in. If I hold the pineapple by the green spiky part and use the round, brown-yellow-orange--whatever color it is-- part as a club, and whack the intruder in the face, than it would be an effective weapon." Brooke does not say anything, instead, she just rolled her eyes. After a few minutes, Brooke stopped looking for the figure.
            "Jelly, whatever it was that you saw, it vanished--there is nothing here." Brooke said.
            "There has to be something, I mean, intruders just don't vanish." I said. You could practically hear the confusion in my voice.
        "Like I said, it was a ghost."
       "There is no such thing ghosts, Brooke! It was probably you just trying to scare me!" I yelled with anger and frustration.
         "It was not me! I was upstairs dreaming of that cute guy we saw at the mall!"
         "Wait what!?"
         "Whoops, gave away my secret." Brooke said. Suddenly, a book goes flying off the table right next to us. It's a children’s' book—a book titled “One Tiny Fox” to be exact.  Brooke and I stopped arguing.
          "I got it." Brooke said under her breath, "The ghost at the park is a little boy, this is a children’s' book; the ghost haunts Fox Ridge Park, and this is “One Tiny Fox.” Before I could protest, Brooke grabbed the book and runs to where I saw the shadowy figure. "Please take this humble offering," she lifted the book, "we had fun reading it as a child, we hope you find it enjoyable in the afterlife." Suddenly, something very unexpected happens: the book began sparking bright colors, and vanishes out of Brooke's hands. We see a flash of light coming from outside. Brooke and I ran to the window and saw a giant, silver UFO floating above our backyard. We barely saw the book slowly being lifted--no, more like being abducted--and go up into the saucer. Then, in a flash, the ship is gone.
          "It was aliens the entire time?" I whisper under my breath in disbelief, "All the hauntings at the park were caused by aliens?"
         "Yup, and it just made off with your favorite book." Brooke added. "Question is, now do you believe in ghosts?"
        I sighed, "I suppose that if aliens exists, and you offered them my copy of “One Tiny Fox”, and they abducted it, I suppose ghosts could be real."