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Hello
out there my name is Robert, I was born in and grew up in a haunted
house, all of the events you are about to read are quite true, though
not in any particular order just as I remember them. My parents bought
a quite large semi detached house not long before I was born, It was
on the market for a very reasonable price which was down to the
property being in a very dilapidated state, having been abandoned for
some time. The fact that a good quality house had been left to decay
in a growing suburban area of Merseyside in the middle of a middle
classed street is in it's self odd. But the house soon became
habitable with a lot of hard work, though with little assistance from
contract labour, delivery men or even other family members. Some just
plain refused to go near the place, some turned up made their excuses
and quickly left, not one delivery man would cross the threshold, and
by all accounts the house did exude menace in it's own suburban way. I
should explain that the house was fully furnished, nothing had been
looted or even thrown about a bit, all was as it had been. The roof
and windows were shot and the rains and weather came in so the
furniture had been soaked through, quality furniture abandoned with
the house now decayed beyond redemption. My parents as they worked in
the house often found the air turn chill and the hairs on their heads
raise for no explainable reason and many items, screwdrivers, pliers
etc. seemingly vanished without trace, I think they were mad to have
stayed but they did. The furniture had to go, broken up and burned
mostly though some of the items were quite grand I'm told they were
all beyond repair. One large chest of drawers which had seized solidly
shut defied all attempts a being opened had to be dismantled with a
lump hammer and crowbar. The drawers when smashed apart contained all
of the missing items lost since my parents first took possession,
including a still wet and warm window cloth my mother had lost just
moments before my father destroyed the chest.
Some
time later, when the house was habitable I arrived, delivered in the
front bedroom nothing too remarkable about that but with my birth
returned the ghost. My room was fitted with a baby alarm, so that my
parents could listen to me screaming (only kidding, you know what baby
alarms are for). For a while after my birth renewed sounds of heavy
footfalls had been heard upstairs and an odour of burning candles was
often commented on by visitors though my mum never used them back
then. Also the icy patches had come back and now with the baby link in
my nursery my parents had a voice. A kind voice of an elderly lady,
usually singing "rock of ages", my father tells me it used to freeze
him to the spot but my mother would run up the stairs hoping to meet
our ghost.
She
never did, the voice would go as she reached the stairs and all would
be as it was before. The voice came regularly, and my Mother inquired
with neighbour's as a way of ruling out interference from neighbour's'
televisions and radios, no link could be found with them and the
singing voice. I think my parents just got used to it as time went by,
people got more relaxed about the house and the feeling of dread about
the place went away. The house looked nice and visitors used to treat
the stories of haunting with great skepticism, my Nan my Mum's Mother
was the greatest skeptic of all, but I feel that her story of all that
I have heard from the house remains the best. It was Christmas, I
guess 1970 or 71 I was still little more than a baby and both of my
Grandmothers were staying over for the festive season. I must have
been out of my old nursery room because I know I was supposed to be
moved back to the nursery (box room) to make room for the two old
ladies. I also know I wouldn't go I was adamant that the box room
belonged to "the Lady" and not for anything would my three year old
self sleep in there. My Mum's Mother ended up taking the room in my
stead, laughing at my parents foolishness for believing all this
haunting rubbish. Anyway I don't know how many nights she had stayed
but on one of the Christmas nights my Nan had an interesting
experience. It must have been fairly late and my Nan was getting
undressed in the box bedroom when another old lady joined her in the
room. The other lady looked at my Nan and said "hello Amy (my Nan's
name) love, I haven't seen you in ever such a long time." My Nan fled,
can't say I blame her, it's a small room to be cooped up in with
someone who you know is dead. It later transpired it had been the
previous owner of the house, a woman my Nan had known in the past, a
woman who died under quite tragic circumstances in the house.
I had a
little sister the following year, and things got loud again footsteps
and candles but no singing just sounds, clicks on the baby alarm
nothing specific just wrong. That was that, things calmed down or
seemed to I guess the noises just became normal background noise to us
and we just stopped noticing them though visitors still found them
disquieting. We were feeling our ghost must be getting used to us, as
I grew up and entered junior school I can only remember one incident
that was even remotely unusual, and that was a glass vase which
decided to move along a window sill and then be flicked onto the
floor, something I watched while having my breakfast before leaving
for school one day.
It was
much later that I saw "The Lady" and I still hardly trust my own
senses, but it felt as real as it could be. I was a teenager and my
room was in an attic conversion (a new room that was never accessible
to the previous owner) reached by a wooden ladder staircase. On this
night I was in bed it was fairly late, am rather than pm but I was
awake maybe only half awake but aware. Anyway I heard a sound, it was
the sound of shuffling feet on carpet it was unmistakable I knew I was
not alone in the room. To reach the room you had to climb the bare
wood stairs, which creaked and thumped however hard you tried to be
quiet, I had not heard anyone climb them. Anyway I summoned the
courage to peep from under my bedclothes not expecting to see anything
at all, but I was disappointed. In the gloom I could see a woman in a
dressing gown standing at the entrance to the room, she was old and
she was moving though very slowly into the room. Oddly I was not too
terrified though I did not sleep that night, after I popped back under
the covers. I never mentioned it to anyone, I often wondered why I
would see her in that room as it could not be accessed in the houses
past. I did have a theory well two theories, the first was to do with
an item of furniture. In my room was the only salvaged item of
furniture from the old owner, the lower section of yet another chest
of drawers. I wondered if that had been the draw, but I also wondered
if she was curious of the new room and just decided to explore I guess
I'll never know.
About
the same time that I saw "the Lady" my father saw her too, he never
told anyone either, it was years later that he told me about it. Like
me he had been in a semi doze, and he was lying on the sofa in the
rear lounge and he was facing what was at the time the doors of a
built in cupboard. He says that he was just staring into space relaxed
and cozy when an frizzle haired old woman strode out of the cupboard
doors and through the end of the sofa he was lay on. He says she was
as clear and solid as any person and he was able to give a fairly good
description of her. He later visited our elderly neighbour's and he
told them about the ghost he had seen and he gave his description to
them. They were surprised to say the least, my fathers description had
been a perfect match of the previous owner.
Anyway
time strode on the noises had long since vanished the candle odour was
a memory and the house was bar one spot a happy house. And the spot on
the first landing is now the only place that won't get better. I
wondered if it was just me, until last year, I have my own house now
which I can only describe as 100% happy I never feel uneasy there. One
evening we had a group of friends over and we all started on ghost
stories, and a theme arose. Had I started it I could dismiss it but it
wasn't me that mentioned it first and I sat back amazed as agreement
spread through the room. Of all the places that any of them had been
going up my mother's stairs was the worst. None could explain it
further than a gut feeling that something they did not want to be any
part of was hiding there, so people tend not to linger or look just in
case. The first landing is a junction, from there the stairs go
straight on and right and to the rear. There is something about that
space, you have to check right you don't want to but it's almost a
compulsion. |
