The only ghost story that ever freaked me out when I was a kid was the Windigo.
As far as superstitions go, I guess the only thing I do is not pick up a penny if it's face down. Not for bad luck but because someone else probably needs it more.
or even just a random little girl sitting outside of my bedroom window trying to look through to find me...
That reminded me of an old creepy poem my grandad used to tell.
I stroll in the night down a shadowy lane.
Lit by the light of the moon that wanes.
My path overhung by knarled old trees.
Their leaves softly stir in the midnight breeze.
In the dark of the trees I see a light.
Pale and ghastly in my fading sight.
There sits a small girl upon the branch.
With black hair and eyes that make me blanch.
She smiles at me with terrible intent.
I know I cannot escape this event.
I ask “What are you?” and then she replies.
With the same terrible intent in her eyes.
I am a lost soul just like your own.
My home is the dark that you have known.
In your closet and under your bed.
Beneath the stairs and inside of your head.
She smiles at me and I shiver in dread.
She comes not as death but as fear instead.
The fears that I could not ever escape.
Though I sailed around horn and cape.
She knows what I ask “Why are your here?”
She smiles again. “Let me tell you my dear.”
I want what all want no more no less.
To not be alone in my own dark abyss.
She reached out with the wind and pulled me in.
Never was I to be seen again.