When I was maybe six or seven, I was staying the night at my grandparents house. I was on the couch trying to sleep when I heard whispering. They had a painting of my aunt hanging on the wall in the living room and it was talking to me. Nothing creepy though. It was talking the way my aunt would talk to me. Asking me if I was behaving and typical aunt talk. She tells me to wake my grandfather up because she needs to talk to him.
I did and when he realized she wasn't there he began scolding me.
In between threats and insults, he noticed someone moving outside the window. He grabbed his pistol and told me to stay in the room with my grandmother. A minute or two later we hear a gunshot. Turns out there is a prison for young adults about 20 miles from where they live. Three of them killed a guard and escaped. They were sizing the house up to take his truck and whatever they could, but he saw them first. Ended up shooting one of them in the shoulder. I have no idea why that fucking picture was talking to me. They've never experienced ghosts before or since.
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