As a very young child, from the ages of 2 – 7, I lived in what can only be described as a haunted house. Being so young I only remember some of the incidents, but my parents and other family members have recounted aspects of the story to me many times, and the details are the same no matter who I ask.
So the first occurrences were on day 1 of moving in, when me and my sister were toddling around exploring, and my Mum says that she saw me walk into the lounge, look upwards as if someone was infront of me, and then burst into tears running out of the room, refusing to go back in there. Later on, my sister went to my Mum to say that she had just seen a “little old lady” sitting in the corner of the lounge.
As time went on, family members would report hearing footsteps upstairs when nobody was up there, and feeling icy cold and uneasy whenever they walked into the lounge. My Dad was in the military and would be away for months at a time, so my Mum was left to look after me and my sister on her own. During those times, my Mum reported waking up in the middle of the night feeling hands running up and down her legs, and on another ocassion, whilst sitting in the dining room with the door closed one night, she heard someone running down the stairs and then tapping on the door. When she opened it expecting to see me or my sister, there was nobody there.
All of this gives just a bit of background for my personal experiences and the main incidents that we later found out went on in the house. The neighbour next door informed us that an old couple had lived in the house previously, and that when the man was nearing the end of his life and unable to climb the stairs, the neighboir had helped to move his bed into the lounge. Slight link here, the woman would sit in the lounge to watch over and take care of her husband, and when asked where she had her chair, the neighbour pointed to the same corner where my sister had seen the little old lady.
Time went on and I can remember lying in bed one night and rolling onto my side to face the doorway to see a pair of red cat-like eyes staring at me. Suddenly, lots of other pairs of eyes from all around the room would illuminate, look at me and glare, then blur and disappear. I ran into my parents room, got into bed with them and remember looking into the darkness, still seeing that the eyes had followed me. When I was a bit older, I remember on many occassions hearing knocking and scratching in my room and on my bed, terrifying me to tears. But on one particular occassion, I remember being shouted at by my parents for coming downstairs over and over again as I pleaded with them not to make me go back to my room as something was waiting til I got back into bed, leaving a pause, and then “Knock…knock…BANG!” on the underside of my bed in perfect rhythm. As an adult, I still clearly remember seeing the eyes and hearing the knocking/scratching, and know that it was not just childhood fears of the dark or my imagination.
The end of the story is that it all got too much for my Mum, who – being a Christian and Church goer, asked the local priest to come and exorcise the house of whatever was haunting us. My Dad was the only person in with the priest and recounts that he entered the house, said a prayer, then asked “Are the problems mainly in here?” whilst pointing towards the lounge. My Dad said yes and they entered. The priest stood quietly for a while and then explained that there was an old woman trapped in the house, who had turned her back on religion when her husband died in that same room, so took to using ouija boards in the hopes of contacting him, but unintentionally opened up the house for other spirits – good and bad – to come and go, and it was those that were mainly causing our problems. The priest then prayed quietly, walked around the room and flicked holy water all around. My Dad said that it sounded as though the holy water was making the wallpaper crack away from the wall and lightly sizzling at the same time. Then, he said the atmosphere in the room changed from the floor upwards, and that the priest then looked at my Dad, smiled and said “She literally just left to the other side, and your house is now closed to any other spirits”.
I occassionally bring this story up with my parents, and it clearly had a lasting impact on them both, particularly my Mum who finds the story difficult to recount even 20+ years later.