When I was in high school (I’m nearly 40 now) my parents bought a good sized house, for what they paid. They were aware the house had a “history” but none of us were superstitious, so they bought it.
The history of the house, was that a man had killed himself there. The people who lived there in the early 80s had rented the basement of the house to their friend. His wife left him, and I guess the divorce was messy. He didn’t die in the house, but in the driveway, he ran a hose from his exhaust into the window of his car.
My parents lived in the for over 10 years. We always joked about the place being haunted. The basement in particular, just had a creepy feel to it. I never got the whole “feels like you’re being watched” feeling before then, and haven’t since, but you just got that feeling. There were always small things going on (creaky floors, breezes, crap like that). Most were dismissible. Here’s the stories that stand out.
My mother was reading a book in the living room late at night. Sometimes she had trouble sleeping, and was going read, until she got tired. This night was was sitting there, and heard a metal noise like a “ting”, then the clack clack clack of something hitting the floor. She turned around to see the final skid of a fork, as it came to a stop beside her. Three fork was sitting on a table across the room. She said it sounded like someone had hit the tongs and sent it flying across the room. Everyone else was asleep at the time.
Well after my sister and I had moved out, my sister had a child. My parents bought an automated swing for the baby, for when they visited. The swing would randomly swing on its own. The swing would be turned off, it would just be like someone had lightly pushed it. It happened enough, that my parents would just kind of mention it lightly, when it happened. They’d just say “oh hey look, the swing is moving again” and go about their day. One night I was staying over at my parents watching tv. It was about 2am, and I heard a tap tap tap. It was coming from the fireplace. The swing was about 7 feet away from there for reference. The tapping was deliberate sounding, like a person, or animal had done it. I shrugged it off and kept watching tv. Five minutes later, tap tap tap. I’m intrigued now. I go to the fireplace expecting a trapped bird. Nothing, and no taps. I turn to sit down, and once I pass the swing, tap tap tap. I have a better hearing vantage now, and it sounded like someone tapping on the mantle. I walk up to it, and when I get to it, tap tap tap, loud this time. Nothing was there that could have caused it, and the hair in my arm is standing on edge. I, kinda spooked, turn around to go outside for a smoke (before I quit) then TAP TAP this time, instead of a third tap, the swing swung forward like someone pushed it full force. I had a couple cigarettes instead of one.
Last one. Back when I was just out of school, before moving out, I was up late. I was in the hall, when I hear my father yell “what the fuck!” i asked, though their door, if everything is okay. He exits the room. He is white as a sheet. He said he woke up, and saw two old ladies standing at the foot of their bed. They were just staring at him, and mouthing something, like talking to him. Said, there was no expression on their faces (happy, sad, scared…) and no sound. When he yelled, they disappeared.
Hearing my grandfather call my name when I was alone in my apartment and he had been dead for seven years. Mind you, he died in (and had never been outside of) the States and I was in my apartment in north France. Still gives me the chills.