We lived with a small wood at the back of the garden and when the foxes started screaming my brothers were always on hand to tell me that it was just the screams of the souls of those laid to rest at the old Indian burial ground. Because apparently there's one of them in south London.
Being my older brothers, I believed every last fucking thing they said.
Eventually I grew up, and I'm sure most of you who were in a similar position to me (maybe not as blatantly thick), also found out ghosts aren't actually real.
Then today happened.
They settled down to watch Finding Dory at the Light Cinema in New Brighton just outside Liverpool when Emma decided she wanted a selfie with the kids.
"I wanted to take a selfie because it was the first time that Harper had been to the cinema," she said.
"I even bumped into a friend who was on the back row and she assured me that there was no one there when I spoke to her later.
"It was only when we got home and checked the photo that we saw the ghost and I could make out a little girl and a teddy next to her. I didn't even think that it was possible to have a teddy bear ghost."
Emma had to tell the kids it was just an advert for the new Ghostbusters film so they wouldn't get scared.
So, is it a ghost holding a teddy bear? Is it a ghost wearing a hood? Is it just a trick of the camera? Is it a superb guerrilla marketing technique by the cinema and Emma is currently sitting on a small fortune in payment?
You tell me, because as far as I'm concerned, that's a fucking ghost.
Words by George Pavlou