I don't believe in ghosts.  I don't want to believe in ghosts but I do believe that I have seen one.

My sister and I shared a bedroom in the mid 50's in a small semi detached house in Johannesburg, South Africa.   I was five years old and she was seven.  We had never heard of ghosts so we had no fear of them.

One hot humid night the full moon illuminated our room.  The sheer curtains fluttered against the windowpane from a lazy breeze casting shadows on the white wall.  I noticed something move and  I lifted my head off the pillow to get a better look.  In disbelief I saw the figure of a woman appear, she was draped in a loose cotton shawl and her image was transparent.  She was a pretty woman and she was smiling and beckoning to me.

I whispered for my sister to take a look and we both sat up and with eyes wide open and mouths agape we watched this vision appear before us.  We were not afraid, we were more in awe.

We reached out to touch her hand but we only felt the coldness of the wall.  She smiled at us one more time, waved her hand and she was gone.

The next morning we ran to our parents and told them of what we had seen.  They thought that we had a wild imagination. 

We never knew who she was but I have always remembered her face.