English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry in advance if there are any spelling errors
I live in The Nethelands in a very small town in the east. The house I lived in from the moment I was born till I was about 12 years old wasn’t exactly the best house to live in. The house was very big but needed a lot of work done to it. My dad promised the landlord to do all the work the house needed in exchange for a lower rent. This would be a nice deal for anyone but my dad, lets just say he wasn’t really a person do do things, he always just fooled around and never did any real work. He also never did any work on the house, so for the first 12 years of my life I lived in a pretty dangerous house.
Before I tell you what happened in those 12 years in out house you need to know the rough layout of the house. We lived in a two story house: the ground floor was meant to be used as a store but my mum turned it into an indoor playground because we lived on a busy street so we couldnt play outside. The first floor was the floor we lived on, to get there you had to go up on a flight of stairs, at the top of the stairs you would see a door, after opening that you would walk into out hallway (which was filled with holes in the ground because my dad was supposed to fix the house). If you would walk to the right you would walk into our living room and kitchen (which looked awful because again my dad never did anything to fix the house). If you would walk straight our of the door you’d go into out bathroom (which was the worst looking room, paint falling off the walls, mould everywhere etc.). if you would walk to the left you would go to our bedrooms; the first one on the left was my younger brother’s bedroom which also had the stairs to our attic, the second one on the left was my bedroom, my bedroom contained the door to our roof terrace. The bedroom on the right was the bedroom of my parents. Now you know the layout I can tell you why I will never step into this house ever again.
My parents, my little brother and me have always been neutral about the paranormal, we didn’t deny its existence neither did we confirm it. We all still have this opinion even though that house contained something not normal. It became a normal occurrence to hear footsteps stomping in the attic but every time we went up there nothing was there. The first few times we heard it we dismissed it as the house making noise since it was built in the early 1800s. But eventually we couldn’t dismiss it anymore, it sounded like there were at least 3 people up there just running around. the first few weeks we heard this we were scared shitless but after a while it was normal to hear the footsteps.
Then a few years later when i was about 7 or 8 years old I kept seeing this shadow on the lower half of the wall opposite my bed. The shadow was of a woman with long hair and the shadow would start at her waist. The position she was in was like the emoji of the woman tipping her hand. After seeing it a few days and nights in a row I asked my mum why there was a weird shadow of a woman on my wall. My mum, of course, freaking out went to my room and also saw it. She at first thought that it might’ve come from the objects in my room, which sounds logical, so we completely rearranged my bedroom. Whilst doing this we didn’t really pay attention to the shadow which in hindsight was a very stupid move. We finished rearranging my room and the shadow was nowhere to be found. We were happy it was gone and we went about our lives again. After a few weeks I saw the shadow again while I was changing into my pj’s. kept my eyes on it and yelled for my mum that “the lady” was back but this time on a different wall. We decided to move everything away from that wall to make sure no object could cause it. “the lady” stayed on that very wall for the rest of the time we lived in that house. She didn’t move to any other wall and she would sometimes disappear for weeks only to return to that exact spot. I knew she wasn’t hostile but I still get chills thinking about her.
The third weird thing happening in my house was the one that seriously scared us all. This started when I was about 8 years old. My dad ran his own business so he had pretty long days. Our front door was right next to the stairs you needed to go up to get to our hallway. The door was also obnoxiously loud, you could hear the key sliding in, it twisting, the door opening and then closing. So when someone of our family members came in we knew because we could hear it everywhere in the house. One time at around 7PM I heard the key going into the lock, we were all home except my dad so we all assumed he was home early. I decided to stand next to the door at the top of the stairs. I stood there and heard the door downstairs opening, someone stepping in, the door closing and it being locked again + an extra lock closing that could only be locked from the inside. i then heard the footsteps going up the stairs, so I started to kind of get nervous because I wanted to scare my dad. But then I stopped hearing the footsteps, I thought that that was odd so I opened the door from the stairs and absolutely no one was there. I walked down the stairs and looked if someone was outside but no one was there either. I went up the stairs scared shitless and asked my mum if she was pulling some kind of sick prank on me, she immediately denied this and asked me where dad was. I told her this wasn’t funny and that she had to tell me where dad was. She then said “But he is here right? I heard him going up the stairs”, at that point I was in full freak out mode. She heard the door opening too and footsteps going to the stairs which stopped, then she heard me going down the stairs and going up again. Now we were both freaking out and decided to call my dad asking where he was hiding. He answered us in a very confused voice that he was still working and wouldn’t be home till late at night. We told him what happened, after hearing this he went home immediately and searched the ground floor, the first floor and the attic but found no one. My dad was now very angry and in his deepest and loudest voice yelled “IF YOU DONT COME OUT RIGHT NOW YOU WILL WISH I WOULD HAVE CALLED THE POLICE INSTEAD OF HANDLING YOU MYSELF”. Not one sound in the entire house, not one creak, nothing. We didn’t really wanted to call the police because A) they are, sorry for my words here, lazy pussies and B) what were going to tell the police? That we had a paranormal break-in? So we all just went to bed early and didn’t talk about it. This happened 3 more times and is the one thing in my life where I was the most scared I’ve ever been, nothing has been able to scare me more than that happening.
Luckily when I was 12 we moved out of that big house and now live in a much smaller and not haunted house. Ever since we moved out of that house I actually haven’t had a nightmare. Which might be a coincidence, but I’m glad they stopped.
creepy ghost people in my old house, don’t ever haunt us again