My maternal grandmother lived next door to a Synagogue. As children, my cousins and I were always looking for something to explore. On one of our adventures, we were playing in the back parking lot of the synagogue. Susan discovered the door was unlocked, and suggested that we go in and look around. Being the youngest, I followed them everywhere... so in we went. The interior was just like any other church, minus the symbolic "Christian Cross" that you see in most Protestant Churches. I remember how quiet and peaceful the building felt. While we were in the chapel (I don't know what they call this in a synagogue), I heard a toilet flush.
Sharon exclaimed that the building was haunted and that the ghosts were angry with us for intruding and that we should leave immediately. We all ran back to my grandmother's house as fast as our little legs could go. For a long time after that, I couldn't look over at the Synagogue without thinking the ghosts were going to come get me...
This would have been between 1975 and 1980
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