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At my parents' house.
A bit of backstory:
We moved to that house in fall 2003. My parents were upfront and honest and did tell my brother and me that the old lady who previously owned the house died in the house. But they wouldn't say what room. That immediately set my brother and I to believe it was one of our bedrooms (2 bedrooms upstairs and one very small room inbetween....always been treated like a large closet).
Many, many nights while I lived there until 2006, I'd hear light, slow footsteps going up the stairs between 12-1 am almost every night. That's how I originally began falling asleep to my TV or I'd put in a movie or leave the radio on. But since the foosteps always seemed to disappear right at the top of the stairs (which at the top of the stairs, an immediate right was my room), even though I wanted to piss myself, I still managed to sleep because I never felt anything in my room and the door never opened itself.
For my brother, it's a different story. He just finally started opening up to me on this, because lately it's gotten worse. All those years ago when I still lived there, the footsteps that, for me, stopped at the top of the stairs, continued to the left and went past the little room and into his room. He's always been one to leave his door open a crack, sometimes his door would creak open a bit more, and he'd hear the steps continue and stop at his window, right next to his bed.
Now bear in mind, these were not loud, obnoxious steps. It sounded like an old person going up the stairs, very slowly and softly. My dad ripped all the carpet off the stairs and out of my brother's room a year or so after we moved in, and that made everything louder, so at first I wanted to believe it was just settling.
We don't tell mom and dad. They refuse to believe anything, I used to tell them about the footsteps, but my brother heard them tell me I was full of crap, so he never said a word. The funny thing is, we had an old lady ghost at our old house as well, my parents actually SAW her back in 1990 when we first moved in there, so they are not non-believers. They for some reason think that we're warped and paranoid because the old lady died in this house.
The scariest part of all was a few Fridays ago, I parked my car on the street by the house like I always do, got my laundry basket out of the car, and for some reason, looked upwards towards my brother's window. I saw the silhouette of an old woman staring out the window at me. For a split second. Then she was gone. It wasn't crystal clear or detailed, very vague, just like an outline and a face of an old lady. I told my brother because he needed to know, and it proved that there was something going on in his room. We think she actually died in his room.
It also doesn't help that after FatCat passed in March, at night my little brother feels something jumping onto his bed, even though there is nothing there, and he has heard purring and felt something brush against his face. FatCat used to sleep with him every night until she got too sick and weak to climb up and down stairs, and she rubbed everyone's face and always purred very loud. I haven't experienced any of this, she also loved the couch and to snuggle with me on Friday mornings while I napped in between laundry cycles, but I haven't heard or felt anything.
This morning my Dad asked me to be sure I locked the door on the way out. Not that we don't routinely do it, but lately it seems doors are opening by themselves. Not screen doors, which can be explained, but the heavier doors. I said "It's that old lady, dad" and he said "You're full of shit, blas."
A bit of backstory:
We moved to that house in fall 2003. My parents were upfront and honest and did tell my brother and me that the old lady who previously owned the house died in the house. But they wouldn't say what room. That immediately set my brother and I to believe it was one of our bedrooms (2 bedrooms upstairs and one very small room inbetween....always been treated like a large closet).
Many, many nights while I lived there until 2006, I'd hear light, slow footsteps going up the stairs between 12-1 am almost every night. That's how I originally began falling asleep to my TV or I'd put in a movie or leave the radio on. But since the foosteps always seemed to disappear right at the top of the stairs (which at the top of the stairs, an immediate right was my room), even though I wanted to piss myself, I still managed to sleep because I never felt anything in my room and the door never opened itself.
For my brother, it's a different story. He just finally started opening up to me on this, because lately it's gotten worse. All those years ago when I still lived there, the footsteps that, for me, stopped at the top of the stairs, continued to the left and went past the little room and into his room. He's always been one to leave his door open a crack, sometimes his door would creak open a bit more, and he'd hear the steps continue and stop at his window, right next to his bed.
Now bear in mind, these were not loud, obnoxious steps. It sounded like an old person going up the stairs, very slowly and softly. My dad ripped all the carpet off the stairs and out of my brother's room a year or so after we moved in, and that made everything louder, so at first I wanted to believe it was just settling.
We don't tell mom and dad. They refuse to believe anything, I used to tell them about the footsteps, but my brother heard them tell me I was full of crap, so he never said a word. The funny thing is, we had an old lady ghost at our old house as well, my parents actually SAW her back in 1990 when we first moved in there, so they are not non-believers. They for some reason think that we're warped and paranoid because the old lady died in this house.
The scariest part of all was a few Fridays ago, I parked my car on the street by the house like I always do, got my laundry basket out of the car, and for some reason, looked upwards towards my brother's window. I saw the silhouette of an old woman staring out the window at me. For a split second. Then she was gone. It wasn't crystal clear or detailed, very vague, just like an outline and a face of an old lady. I told my brother because he needed to know, and it proved that there was something going on in his room. We think she actually died in his room.
It also doesn't help that after FatCat passed in March, at night my little brother feels something jumping onto his bed, even though there is nothing there, and he has heard purring and felt something brush against his face. FatCat used to sleep with him every night until she got too sick and weak to climb up and down stairs, and she rubbed everyone's face and always purred very loud. I haven't experienced any of this, she also loved the couch and to snuggle with me on Friday mornings while I napped in between laundry cycles, but I haven't heard or felt anything.
This morning my Dad asked me to be sure I locked the door on the way out. Not that we don't routinely do it, but lately it seems doors are opening by themselves. Not screen doors, which can be explained, but the heavier doors. I said "It's that old lady, dad" and he said "You're full of shit, blas."
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