This will have to be my last ghost story until I hear another good one. This one is equally interesting and creepy. I believe it happened about six years ago, I met a paratrooper in a bar in The South Side of Pittsburgh; it was Mardi Gras, and he was leaving for The Middle East, or some place. I never saw him again, and cannot even remember his name, for it was just a chance encounter; but for some strange reason, even unknown to himself, he told me a story that I will never forget.
A couple of years earlier, his twin brother died. There was a party at their house, everybody was drunk. They had a sort of loft, overhanging the family room, his brother was sitting there, when he fell to his death, breaking his neck. He then told me that he not only saw his brother, that he not only looked to be very solid, alive, and real, but that he talked to him as well. He had no idea that he was dead. After he explained to his twin how he had fallen and died, he never saw him again, no sense, gone without a trace.
He then went on to tell me that he never told anybody and that he had no idea why he was telling me, now. I think it makes for a good ghost story. You hear about ghosts that stick around because they do not know that they are dead, but this is the only one that I have ever heard about first hand. Of course, it may very well have been due to the fact that they were twins, and twins have a stronger connection than the rest of us.
