Story #1)
Years ago (30ish), my parents bought their house from my now late grandfather, whom inherited it from his father, my Great Grandpa Nick.
Nick lived here for most of his life along with his wife, my Great Grandma. The house was a serious fixer-upper when they bought it, but it was dirt cheap. Bolted to the kitchen floor with huge lag bolts was a steel dog house for Willy, the dog they inherited with the house. He was a German Shepherd that was fearless. Nothing shook this dog. You could drop a huge steel frying pan near it while it was sleeping, and it would just pick it's head up and look. Shoot a gun near it, no problem. Scream at it, only to get a vacant stare in return.
The phone was located right above the dog house. The place used to be a barn, and was converted to a house (I believe by my grandpa Nick). It was a rickety shack, drafty, old, dusty, but it was dry and with a wood stove pumping furiously from the basement, it was also warm.
My mom, not feeling like helping my dad with the house work was sitting in the kitchen at the table talking on the phone. She had zero knowledge of either of the two people who used to live in this house. They were dead long before she came into my dad's life. That day that my mom decided not to help my dad out, he lost his temper and told her he'd rip the phone off the wall if she didn't get off it and help. She did, until dusk when they went back to their apartment a few miles away for the night.
The next morning when my parents arrived back at the house, the dog house was ripped right out of the floor (remember it was lag bolted), the dog was whimpering in the corner, and the phone was ripped out of the wall all the way down to the baseboard trim. My dad swears to this day that he didn't do it. (and my mom vouches that he never left the apartment after they went back the night before) Creepy.
Story #2- same house only a few years later, 1981- the year my brother was born. My dad was working two jobs so my mom could stay at home and be mom. They didn't want daycare raising their kids (which was amazing and I routinely thank them for that to this day. We are a very, very tightly knit family) My brother was sitting on the kitchen table in one of those baby rockers with a handle. Mom was reading a book. (note: mom still knew nothing about the two previous owners, nor had she ever seen pictures of them)
She felt a strange sensation and looked toward the stairs that lead up to the bedroom. There was a lady standing there staring at her. In disbelief, my mom jumped up and ran to the stairs, which are only a few feet from where she was sitting. The lady turned away, walked up the stairs and around the corner into the bedroom which is right over the kitchen. The stairs made the creaking sound that they still do to this day when a full weight grownup walks on them. She was wearing orthopedic shoes. (this is creepy, pay attention to that detail) My mom grabbed my brother and ran up after her. Walked into the bedroom (her and my dad's room). Nobody there. Nothing. Silence.
My dad came home from work very late that night and my mom explained it all to him. The next day they looked at old family photo albums from my dad's side. My mom pointed out the lady in the photo album. It was my great grandmother. She nearly fainted when she looked at my grandma's feet and saw orthopedic shoes. My dad and grandfather (dad's dad) confirmed.
Story #3)
For years when I was growing up I'd be up for school in the morning as my dad would be leaving for work. He'd nonchalantly ask my older brother, myself, and my younger sister if we'd been up at all last night to use the bathroom, grab a drink, anything. The answer was almost always a unanimous "No." He never explained further. It wasn't until I was about 18 that he let us know what he kept asking for. Numerous times while we'd all be sleeping, he'd hear footsteps going downstairs. There's a gate at the bottom of the steps so the dog can't get into the liivingroom. He'd hear the gate unlatch, re-latch. Then nothing.
He'd also hear it very early in the morning when his shifts changed. 5am, he'd hear the footsteps come downstairs. Gate unlatch, re-latch. Silence. Several years ago, I was in a vulnerable position. I was in the bathroom, pooping no less, (this sucked) at about 3am. I 'd just gotten home from hanging out with some friends. I heard footsteps come down the stairs. Gate open. Gate close. Silence. I finished my business quickly, walked out of the bathroom to find our then 9yr old yellow lab cringing in a corner where he never, ever goes. Tail tucked tightly between his legs, fur on his neck standing straight up, and a low, low growl that I'd NEVER heard him do before. He was staring directly at the stairs and wouldn't break his stare even when I tried to pet him and calm him down. It took several minutes for him to relax.
I've heard those footsteps many times since then. The dog is a bit older now, and usually just picks his head up and stares at the stairway. Sometimes the hair on his neck will stand up, but I think he's not as scared as that first time.
Story#4) I've always been the last one home/last to bed. In the winter, I'd always be the last one to check the wood stove which is located in the basement. The only part of the basement that's as old as the rest of the house. Every so often I'll get an eerie feeling that I'm being watched. And on more than one occasion I'd swear that I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. I never felt threatened, just creeped out a bit.
Story#5) My bedroom is half in the old portion of the house (original) and half in the new portion (built about fifteen years ago). My printer, camera, and iPod sit on the desk under the overhang where the old house ended. That overhang was part of one of the old upstairs bedrooms. Randomly one day, my printer turned on, then off. My camera, which was NOT hooked to anything, turned on and off. Then my iPod, which was dead when I put it there. Flicked on, then blacked out.
When I think about it all at once, it's kinda creepy, but as I said before, I've never felt threatened.
