It was a quiet, fine night - one of those still evenings when the world seems to hold its breath. Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at our door. When we opened it, we saw a close family friend standing there, his face pale and eyes clouded with grief. He had just lost his wife. We had known them for years; their pain felt like a wound in our own hearts. As we gathered around him, trying to offer some comfort, the atmosphere grew heavy with sorrow and silence.

Then, without warning, a strange sound cut through the night - the unmistakable roar of his car engine coming alive outside. But there was no one near it. Our hearts pounded wildly. Frozen for a moment, we stared in disbelief. Was someone trying to scare us? Or was this something else?

We rushed to the window, our breath catching in our throats, and then burst outside. But the car stood there - completely still, engine cold, as if untouched by any hand. No footprints, no movement - only the echo of that haunting sound lingering in the night air.

A shiver ran through us, the kind that sinks deep into your bones. It was terrifying, but even more than that - it was eye-opening. That night, we understood that some forces are beyond explanation, that the unseen can stir and awaken when grief is raw and spirits restless.

From that moment on, the stories of dog ghosts and restless souls weren't just tales told to frighten children - they were a chilling reality that had touched our lives in the darkest hours.