As long as I'm reading about bats and nurses' hospital ghost stories, I thought we could post a few of our own ghost stories here. I'll throw out the first ball......
Decades and decades ago, I was staying with my grandmother for the summer and got a job housesitting for some friends of hers for a couple of weeks while I was there. The woman I was housesitting for was a widow, with two grown sons in college and a daughter she was taking with her on vacation. Their house was one of those old, dark, narrow houses with a finished attic the woman's boys had slept in. To get to the attic, you opened a door in the hallway, went up the stairs, and then walked around the stairwell into the finished bedroom. The attic had kneewalls with storage behind them and the doors that were cut into the kneewalls were kept shut by a hook and eye.
I had been given permission to go upstairs and look at the books the boys had left so after a couple days there, that's what I did. After getting to the top of the stairs, I walked around the stairwell and passed by a door in the kneewall that was hanging open. I got some books and went back downstairs.
Several days later, I went up to get some more books. I noticed the open door in the kneewall as soon as I got into the attic. I was annoyed, because I was sure I had shut it on my way down the last time I had been up there. I still couldn't tell you if I had or not, but this time on the way down with some more books, I know I shut the door and dropped the hook into the eyelet.
Several days later I went back upstairs to return the books and as I came around the stairwell, I saw the door was open again. I threw the books across the room from where I stood (no WAY was I going to walk past that door again!), ran downstairs like a scalded scardy-cat, and slammed the door shut.
Once I was downstairs, I felt perfectly safe.
When the family came home, in amongst all the unpacking and talking, I asked the mother very casually if her house was haunted. She told me that years before her daughter was born and before the attic was finished, she would always hear someone walking across the floor upstairs. She said she tried to get her husband to go upstairs because she thought someone had broken in. Her husband kept telling her it was squirrels. But she said to me, "I just know those were footsteps I heard up there."
We didn't get another chance to talk and I never was able to ask her about her house again before she died.
Last edited by rodentraiser
on Wed Mar 08, 2017 1:23 am, edited 2 times in total.