More spooky stories

So you might of thought that wasn't really a ghost story, that was some sort of coincidence. Maybe I've been watching 'Lost' too much, but I don't believe in coincidences. Something similar happened to me while I was a teenager, a premonition that came out of nowhere, and more importantly, in front of a large group of people.
It was my senior year in high school, around 1991, probably the early fall because it was still relatively warm out. At the time my parents were separated, and my father lived at home with my sister and I. He was out of town for some reason that night, and we decided to get some friends together and drop some acid. (mom if your reading this, don't worry I haven't done it sense at least 95, at an amusement park in RI at the best rave of my life. Another story entirely...)
So someone scored some acid, and a bunch of us, probably around 10, kicked back and let the good times roll, so to speak. At some point we ended up on the roof of our family room, it was accessible by my sisters bedroom window and only one story. Were we lived in New Hampshire there were no big cities or even towns nearby that would add any light interference in the sky, so star gazing at night was amazing. Fucking amazing on acid. We laid up there looking at the stars for what seemed like forever, and had a few cliche conversations about the meaning of life, how small we are in the universe, and even a crazy argument about how our world might even be inside many, many other bigger worlds. But it was beautiful. And dark. We lived on a dead end street and next to a swampy conservation land, the only other light around was from our neighbor's front porch, which was a ways away, and if that was shut off we would only have the moon and stars to light our way. It made you feel, looking up at the stars laying on that roof, that you were floating.
At one point everyone had been quiet for awhile, and a few people had gone inside to use the bathroom. They had been gone awhile, no doubt entranced by the cat or maybe the wallpaper in emily's room, and who knows if we'd even see them again that night. Everybody had stopped talking on the roof , so you could hear everything from the crickets to the beavers slapping their tails on the water nearby. It was in this quiet that I heard this humongus crash that brought me up to an immediate sitting position. "What the fuck was that?!" I yelled.
Someone asked me what the fuck I was talking about. "That big crash sound!"
Everybody just looked at me with that 'WTF are you talking about' look.
Then it happened
For real.
A huge crash came from Emily's room. And everybody looked at me again.
"Did you hear that?" I asked, somewhat hesitantly.
I'll never forget what happened next. This kid named Rich Clivieo (I spelled his last name phonetically, cuz I have no idea how it's spelled), who was the local cheapskate pot dealer, looked at me with the most freaked out expression and said, "your a witch!" and scrambled away from me as far as he could on the roof.
Just then someone poked their head out of Emily's room and apologized for nocking a shelf off the wall that held every bit of ceramic art she had created in High School. Most had survived, but some did not.
For the rest of our trip, everybody gave me these odd looks, as if they weren't sure of what I would do next.
Anytime I saw Rich after that, he always referred to me as the "witch".