As a kid, we were pretty poor and our play area was the courtyards, back porches and basements of the apartment complexes of our neighborhood. A favorite game was hide & seek, and there was one basement in which the more experienced kids would not would not hide. They said that a man killed 4 children there many years ago, and that the place was haunted by his ghost. There was a child's picture of him in chalk that one of the children supposedly drew of him on the basement wall right before death. Well, at 8 years of age I mustered up the courage to hide down there, after all, who would dare come to find me? Once down there, I saw the picture and suddenly I was so frightened I could barely move. I could hear children whispering fuzzy warnings to me. When I was finally able to get the fuck out of there, I told the other kids about my ordeal. I took a couple of the more courageous children back with me with a bucket of soapy water and a couple of brushes and we scrubbed that wall down for about 15 minutes, determined to get all traces of this image so future kids wouldn't have to experience it. I came back the next day (in the well lit sunlight hours of course): the killer's image was exactly the same as when I initially saw it. I shit you not. I haven't thought about that in years, and it still gives me goosebumps...