Forced Out Of Our Own Home

 * Sent in by Samantha Bouncer

In hindsight, I should have been a little suspicious when our neighbour Jacob told me that all the previous tenants of the house we’d just rented never stayed for very long.  But at the time I was so happy that we’d managed to find a decent place to rent that I didn’t give it a second thought.

I was pregnant with my first child and my priority was a safe and secure home for our little family.  The first four months were quite uneventful for me and my partner Mark, but after our son Jayden was born strange things started happening.

Our near-new television set started flickering when we watched it at night, then it stopped working altogether.  I sent it off to be repaired only to have the repairman ring me a few days later to tell me that my TV was in perfect working order and not a problem could be found.  So I got it back and it worked again for a couple of nights until it went blank and shut down.  I took it to a different repair shop, and exactly the same thing happened.  Nothing wrong with it.  Within a fortnight our washing machine, dryer and stereo all broke down unexpectedly.  

My cat Chloe also started behaving strangely.  She had always been a very loving and relaxed cat, but I noticed that she seemed spooked most of the time and didn’t like to spend time inside the house.  Chloe would sit staring at nothing and would occasionally hiss and spit and lash out at something (or someone) that we just couldn’t see.  She seemed tormented and unsettled all the time so I ended up giving my beloved Chloe to my sister Sarah, where she settled in straight away and quickly went back to her old happy, loving ways.

Not long after Chloe’s departure we started hearing all sorts of noises, banging, footsteps and metallic-sounding scratching and tinging.  At times I would notice random unexplainable cold spots around the house. We also developed problems with the door and window locks.  I’d o out during the day only to come home to find the front door with open, knowing I’d securely locked it.  At other times I would go to get the mail or hang out the washing only to find I’d been locked out of the house.  Even when I’d chocked the door open, somehow it would close and lock.  I started having to carry a set of keys around with me when I was home.

The windows seemed to have a mind of their own and I’d find them open or closed at any time, knowing that I hadn’t touched them. We’d often hear banging on our bedroom walls and ceiling and doors opening and closing throughout the house.  Night times were eerie and creepy and I dreaded Jayden’s night time feeds.

I often felt very uncomfortable during the day when I was home alone with little Jayden.  I’d get the sensation that someone was watching me, and I’d feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise every time.  I particularly felt self-conscious when I was showering and changing my clothes. It really gave me the creeps.

I got up early one morning and checked on Jayden before making my way into the kitchen.  Once there I was confronted with my pots and pans on the floor and all the draws left open. I set about picking up the pots and putting them back in the cupboard, but as I’d put one in, another would fall off the shelf as though an unseen hand was pushing them off.  This was happening right in front of me and as much as I tried to hold onto my resolve I ended up fleeing the kitchen and hiding in my bedroom.  I rang Mark at his work and told him I’d had enough and wanted out of the house. Now.  I’d begun to feel more and more uncomfortable and safe and feared for all of us.

I also rang my friend Gina later that day and gave her an update on our creepy happenings.  She told me to leave it with her and she would get back to me later.  The following day she called me back with the name and number of a local medium and ghostbuster.  I rang and arranged for her to visit as soon as possible.

Within a couple of minutes of the medium entering my home, she commented that a young man in his late teens or early twenties was loitering but did not wish to communicate with her.  The medium persisted and walked from room to room.  She stopped in Jayden’s room and from the kitchen I could hear her quietly speaking out loud.

Some time later the medium came back into the kitchen and told me that she had tried to reason with our not-so-friendly ghost and convince him to go towards the light, but he had adamantly refused and had told her that he had no intention of leaving.  This was ‘his’ house and he’d be staying whether we liked it or not.  So, if he refused to leave, then we certainly would.  I made arrangements to move into my parent’s spare room right then and there.

Over the following two days we packed up our belongings and left, never looking back.

*
* Sent in by Samantha Bouncer

The Campfire Ghost

* Sent in by Ricky Compton

I still don’t know if it was a real ghost or not but it scared the crap out of me anyway.

Me and two of my mates went on a camping trip to Woods Point in Victoria about two years ago and it was a trip I’ll never forget.

I finally got my drivers’ license so decided to take a bit of a road trip one weekend.  I had never been there before, but my mate Geoff reckoned it was a great place to camp.

The first day we had a look at the old gold mines and shafts and did a bit of a tour of the area.  I didn’t like going into the old mines because they were unsafe and creepy.  I was happy to wait out the front while Geoff and Dave went in for a look.  Dave was sure he was going to find a rogue gold nugget and Geoff was always the first one to give anything a go.

Later that afternoon we pitched our tents, set up the swags and lit a campfire.  It was going to be a really cold night so we wanted to cook our food before dark and rug up in front of the fire.

It was about 11pm and I was ready to head into my swag for the night.  Geoff and Dave were doing the same.  Once settled we called out to one another, laughing and joking around.  I could see the silhouette of someone standing by the campfire.  I thought it must have been Dave, but then I heard his voice coming from the tent beside me.  So it must have been Geoff, so I yelled out and asked him what he was doing.  “Lying in bed” he told me, his voice coming from the tent to the right to me.  So with all three of us in our tents who was out there standing by the fire??

I didn’t want to get out of my swag, but my curiosity got the better of me.  I was scared but just couldn’t help myself.  

Peeking out through the zip on my tent, I saw an old bloke with a long, stringy grey beard, wearing a tattered flannel shirt.  But I couldn’t see below his knees or his feet.  All I could see was his head, torso and thighs.  I screamed in shock and fright.  The figure turned and looked at me then faded away to nothing.  I couldn’t believe my own eyes.  One moment the old man was there and the next he was gone.

By then Geoff and Dave were out of their tents demanding to know what the hell I was squealing about.

I stuttered and stammered and tried to describe what I’d seen.  The guys just looked at me like I was an idiot.  ‘Bullshit’ was the general consensus.

But I knew what I’d seen and no one could convince me otherwise.

We went back into our tents, but I didn’t sleep too well that night.

The entire following day the guys ribbed me about my ‘old man ghost’.  At every possible opportunity they stuck the boots in.  

I was so buggered that night that I went to bed not long after dinner, leaving Geoff and Dave by the fire.  I bombed out pretty quickly, but was woken up some time later by the sound of Dave yelling.  I sat up in my swag a bit disorientated.  Then I heard Geoff shuffling around in his tent.  Next thing I knew my tent zip opened and both Dave and Geoff bundled in.

“I saw him,” Dave blurted out.  “So did I” replied Geoff.  It took me a moment to register who they were talking about.  Then they described exactly what I’d seen the night before  -  an old bloke with a stringy grey beard and a flannelette shirt.  And just like the night before, the man’s feet and lower legs couldn’t be seen.

Both Dave and Geoff kept apologizing for taking the piss out of me.  We stayed awake for most of that night, way too spooked to sleep peacefully, and we were glad to see the Sun come up.

We left the campsite after breakfast and headed for home, glad to be leaving the ghost of the old man behind us.

*
* Sent in by Ricky Compton

Andrew’s Ghostly Playmate

* Sent in by Jen H.

I was home alone with my young son Andrew, doing chores and catching up on some cleaning around the house while Andrew went down for a nap.

Sometime later I could hear Andrew chattering from his bedroom so I knew that nap-time was over it was time for my two year old tornado to be let loose.

Walking up the hallway to Andrew’s room I stopped just outside his door.  Andrew continued talking to who I considered to be his imaginary friend.  What I found odd though, listening to his conversation, was that he was speaking and asking questions, then leaving a gap before speaking again as though it was a two-way conversation.  Then he laughed and said ‘you’re so funny Adam ...”     Adam??   I walked in at that point and Andrew abruptly stopped talking then looked over and smiled at me.  “This is my mummy,” he said to thin air.

A day or so later I was in the kitchen doing dishes while Andrew played on the floor in front of the bench where I could see him.  He was chatting away again and I watched as he sorted out his toys.  “One for you, one for me ... one for you, one for me,” he said as he put one toy in front of himself and another on a pile on the other side of the mat he sat on.  And so it went on until every toy was out of Andrew’s toy box.  Two distinct piles sat on the carpet in front of Andrew.  One for him and one for ... Adam?

I turned away to dry a cup and out the corner of my eye I thought I saw a flash of blue.  I looked quickly but only saw Andrew and his toys.  Nothing unusual there ...

Andrew chatted away and giggled to himself as he played, and I quickly made a phone call to my best girlfriend Donna.  She was due to come over for a play-date with her son Jordan and I wanted to ask her to stop by the shops to pick me up some milk.

Just as I was hanging up the phone I looked over to see Andrew holding up a toy as though presenting it to someone.  I couldn’t believe my eyes!  I watched as the toy seemed to drift in the air of its own accord.  It only lasted a second, but in that brief moment I was sure I saw it hang in mid-air, then be placed amongst the other toys on the pile.  I knew what I saw  -  but I couldn’t believe it.

Donna arrived, milk in hand.  She saw the look on my face and asked me what on Earth was wrong with me.  I said I was just feeling a little flustered as I didn’t want to tell her what I’d just witnessed.  She’d think I was nuts!

We settled in for a coffee at the kitchen bench and I tried my hardest to forget what I was sure I’d seen.  I kept thinking about it and looking at Andrew and Jordan playing on the floor.  Jordan was a little younger than Andrew but they played together nicely and got along well.  Soon enough there was three piles of toys on the mat  -  one for Andrew, one for Jordan and one for .... Adam?

Donna noticed that I was distracted and asked me what was on my mind.  I didn’t know what to say, so just made the excuse that I’d been feeling a little rundown and tired.  She nodded in empathy.  

I took myself off to the loo and left Donna to mind the boys.  Upon my return Donna asked me who ‘Adam’ was.  I asked her where she’d heard the name Adam, and she replied that both Andrew and Jordan had both referred to Adam, as though they were talking to someone that she couldn’t see.

At first I didn’t know what to say, but I knew I had to say something so I told her what had happened the other day as well as the toy episode from earlier that day.  I was expecting her to look at me as though I’d gone totally bonkers, but instead she listened intently, nodding here and there as I spoke.  She didn’t seem at all surprised ... in fact, she then went on to tell me of a similar experience that one of her workmates had had.  She told me that it was more common than what I would ever have thought.

I started to pay more attention after that and noticed that Adam seemed to be around most of the time.  It was like having an invisible tenant around the house.  

I never actually saw Adam myself although Andrew continued chatting to him for well over three years or so.  I got used to having Adam around even though he was never really all that present for me.  He made Andrew happy and content and that was the main thing from my perspective.

Over time though, Adam seemed to be around less and less as the years passed.
Today, Andrew has grown up to be a healthy and happy young man of 33 and nowadays has no memory of his childhood friend Adam.  But I remember him.

*
* Sent in by Jen H.

The Old Miner’s Cottage

* Sent in by Steven Corsa

We were finally building our dream home, but weren’t allowed to park our caravan on our land during construction, so we had to rent an old, small miner’s cottage off site.

It was a creepy place from the start and my wife and kids weren’t too keen on staying there.  The cottage had a strange musty smell to it, and the rooms were dark and dingey.  The garden was well over-grown and encroached on the windows and doors of the house.  Due to costs we didn’t have much choice but to stay and make the best of it, knowing that we would have our own beautiful new home to look forward to.  And the sooner the better.

Strange events started shortly after our family moved in.  Like I kept finding the back door open in the mornings, even though I’d made sure to lock them securely each night.  We’d also hear footsteps in the kitchen in the middle of the night and quite often the toilet light would turn itself on and off and the toilet would flush once or twice during the night. 

It made us all a bit jittery and my two kids, Chris (13) and Shannon (11) wouldn’t get out of their beds at night.  In fact, none of us were all that game to wander around at night.  We left that to our ‘friend’ who appeared to share the cottage with us. We heard knocking on the windows, kitchen cupboards and drawers opening and closing, and at times we could sense when our resident ghost was around.

As a family we tried to ignore the occurrences as much as we could and just set about getting our house to lock-up stage so that we could move in.  All we could do was grin and bare it.
The disturbances around the house went on for the entire five months that we lived there, and although nothing ever truly frightening happened, it was still very disconcerting to know that the ghost of a dead person was hanging around, day and night.  

As a family we were more than relieved when our house was finally ready to move in and we said goodbye to the old miner’s cottage once and for all and there was no looking back.

*

* Sent in by Steven Corsa

Footsteps From Above

* Sent in by Wendy Wright

About 15 years ago when I was doing my hairdressing apprenticeship, I’d left my country home and had come to the city to gain my qualifications and secure employment.  I rented a small one bedroom granny-flat and worked at the local eatery three nights a week.  

Everything was fine for the first six months or so and I was happy and content in my little home.  Then one night I heard footsteps running above me which had me a little perplexed as my granny-flat was single story.  The footsteps sounded light as though they belonged to children, and it sounded like there was more than just one or two of them.  I checked for possums and/or rats, but found nothing to give me any clues.

I could hear the footsteps regularly from that night onwards.  They would start up at about 8pm and continue until after 10pm.  On the nights I worked I would come home to the tail-end of the pitter-patter of running feet.  After a while the sound of running feet above just blended in with my daily life and I hardly gave it a second thought.

About two months after the running noises started, I was in my bedroom getting ready to turn in the for the night when suddenly I caught a glimpse of a small child, a young girl of about 6, standing in the corner.   But as soon as I turned my head to get a better look she was gone.
It certainly shook me up but I was determined not to let it stop me from having a good night’s sleep.  But I turned out to be wrong.  Very wrong.

Not long after dropping off to sleep I was woken by loud stomping coming from above.  “OY!” I yelled and the stomping stopped immediately.  I nodded off to sleep not long after, only to be woken again.  This time I was scared.  I tried to snap on the bedside lamp only to find that I couldn’t.  It was as if there was a weight on my chest, holding me down and I was frozen in place.  The next thing I knew my alarm was going off and it was morning.
I was pretty shaken up at the thought (or memory) of it and couldn’t shake a foreboding feeling for the rest of the day.

That night during my shift at the restaurant, a familiar face came in  -  Mrs Arnot and her family.  Mrs Arnot was seen as a local matriarch and the place always lit up when Mrs Arnot and her brood came in.  She was friends with the owner and always tipped the staff liberally.  Not only that but she was my landlady as she owned the property that my little granny-flat sat on.
Clearing the plates from the table, I shyly asked Mrs Arnot if I could speak with her privately at her convenience.  She happily followed me to the foyer and waited expectantly while I fumbled and mumbled.  I just didn’t know how to start or what to say.

Mrs Arnot smiled and nodded slowly at me.  “You’ve heard the footsteps haven’t you dear?”  All I could do was nod yes.

She then went on to tell me that a double-storey house once stood on the site where my granny-flat now was.  There had been a fire and the three children and their mother had perished.  Since the granny-flat was built there the footsteps and sometimes even voices had been heard by all the tenants throughout the years.

I went home that night with a different perspective and felt quite sorry for the family who played above me.  I did a little research and was given the name and number of a medium who specialized in helping spirits pass-over, so I arranged for her to visit the following week.

I can’t describe or tell you what happened because I left her to do her thing.  All I know is that I never heard the footsteps again and I hoped that the family were finally at peace.

*

* Sent in by Wendy Wright

Grandma Eileen

* Sent in by Amii

I always loved it when my Grandma Eileen and Grandpa Doug would visit from the UK each year.  They would always come in the Spring time.  My own parents had honeymooned here in Queensland and never left, so half the family lived here and the other half back in Liverpool.  Every year Grandma Eileen would say how much she wished that she lived closer as the plane trip seemed longer and longer to her aging body.

Spring time always reminds me of the smell of baking cakes, slices, biscuits and scones.  Grandma Eileen was an avid cook and especially enjoyed baking for everyone.

When I was 13 my family moved back to Liverpool to be closer to Grandma and Grandpa as they both needed care.  I dropped in on them everyday after school on my way home and would stay to help eat any freshly-baked biscuits or slices that Grandma had made during the day.  In quick time the smell of baked goods became synonymous with my daily life.

The years passed and everyone got older with time.  I moved out of home and back-packed through Europe and Asia, ending up back in Australia to marry an Aussie guy I’d met on my travels.  I missed my family back in Liverpool, but loved the Aussie sun, beaches and lifestyle.

I came home from work early one afternoon and could smell apple-cinnamon tea cake before I’d even unlocked the front door.  The very smell threw my mind back in time to when I’d be greeted by drifting wafts of all kinds of delectable goods, all care of my Grandma Eileen.
I rushed down the hall to the kitchen, somehow expecting to find Grandma at the bench, baking tray in hand.

Instead, the kitchen was cold and dark, and the delicious smell was instantly gone.  I felt a little bereft and disappointed, although how I could have expected a visit was beyond me, as both she and Grandpa were now in a nursing home and well beyond flight travel age.

I went about my nightly routine, and noticed the light blinking on the answering machine attached to the landline phone on the hallstand.  I pressed the play button to hear my clearly distraught mother tell me that my dear Grandma Eileen had passed over in the last hour.  I quickly rang her back, then made arrangements for flights to the UK to make it in time for Grandma’s funeral.

Stepping back into the kitchen to make myself a quick cup of tea, I was hit with the distinctive smell of muffins with berry sauce.  I stopped and smiled to myself.

“Hello and Goodbye Grandma ....”

*

* Sent in by Amii

Our Unseen Visitor

* Sent in by Kylie S.

One evening while my husband Bradley was out at his weekly bowling game, and my two daughters were asleep in their beds, I was sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine when someone cuffed me on the back of the head.  I just about jumped out of my skin in shock as I looked around to find who it could have been.  But I was totally alone in the room.

Several days later, my eldest daughter Caroline said that someone or something had been in her bedroom, and that she could hear footsteps walking around, but there was no one there.

I knew that Caroline wasn’t one to make up stories, so after this happening three nights in a row, I decided to move her into the spare room, hoping that things would stop.

We’d decided not to tell my youngest daughter Gabby for fear of scaring her, but that didn’t last too long as she was the next to encounter our unseen visitor.

I’d just finished up washing the dinner dishes when Gabby came screaming out of her room, wailing like a siren.  She flew into the kitchen and straight into my arms and blubbered about hearing someone knocking on her desk as she was doing her homework.  She didn’t see anyone, but the knocking was right next to her and she said she could feel the banging on the desk as she sat there.  I reassured her that all was okay, although I wasn’t too sure myself.

I was next in line again, and lying in my bed a few nights later the windchimes hanging above my dressing table started playing all by themselves.  The window was closed and there was no valid reason for their ongoing clanging.  I tried to ignore it, and after 10 minutes or so the chimes stopped just as quickly as they started.

These spooky events went on for another two months or so, until one day we came home to a disgusting stench coming from the kitchen.  I thought something somewhere had gone off, so we searched right through the pantry, cupboards and fridge, but nothing could be found.

A few hours later the smell disappeared and all of the strange happenings seemed to stop along with it.

We never figured out what went on there, but are pleased its never happened again.

*

* Sent in by Kylie S.

Lady Adelaide’s Bedroom

* Sent in by Carly Simpson

When I was in my early twenties I went on a trip with my parents and younger sister Yvonne, to visit family (Aunt Jilly) in countryside England.  Sight-seeing was a main part of our agenda.

Following along with the tourist crowds, we visited a huge old country manor, scantily refurbished and in the process of repair and restoration.

My father decided to take a break, so planted himself on a garden bench while the rest of us proceeded with the tour.

Yvonne, my mother Joan and myself wandered along with the tour group, going from room to room, listening the guide talking about the manor’s ancient history.  But I noticed as we approached different rooms, I was sure I heard voices that instantly stopped the moment the door was opened.  Yvonne said she’d heard them too.  Mum seemed oblivious to what we were hearing it seemed.  I was sure there was some kind of presence around us.

The tour guide threw open the next door down the long hallway, announcing that it had once belonged to Lady Adelaide, and that everything was just as she’d left it all those many years ago.

Yvonne, my mum Joan and I shuffled to take a peek into the room while the rest of the group wandered forward onto the next item of interest.

As I looked into the room I was sure that I saw a flicker of movement in front of the heavily guilded mirror sitting atop the old dresser.  I looked away then looked back quickly and was sure I caught another glimpse.  I could hear a rustling sound, then all of a sudden the wardrobe door flew open.  I wasn’t sure what happened after that because my feet were taking me back down the hallway out the way we came in, then out into the garden in a flash  -  Mum and Yvonne hot on my heels.

Dad sat pop-eyed as we three fled across the lawn towards him.  We didn’t stop to explain, but grabbed his hand on the way past and made our way quickly to the carpark, then back to Aunt Jilly’s, to safety.

I know it sounds silly now, but at the time, we were scared stupid!

*
Sent in by Carly Simpson

OUR GHOSTLY NEIGHBOUR ...

* As told by Marie.

We’d been travelling since I retired two years ago, and my husband and I were ready to settle down and find a more permanent home for ourselves.

I’d spotted a bush-block advertised for sale on our lunch stop in a small Victorian town and felt compelled to look into it further.  My husband Peter wasn’t too enthusiastic at first, but once we stood on the land and looked at its beauty and sopped up the tranquillity, we were both hooked.

Within weeks we moved our caravan onto our overgrown 20 acre bush-block and set up camp.  Pete and I set to work choosing a house site and making plans to build our dream home.

As soon as we started building, Peter’s tools began going missing, only to re-appear in a completely different place.  At first he tried to blame me, accusing me of playing tricks on him  -  but I’d been nowhere near the worksite, so his weak accusations fell flat.  Neither of us could explain the missing and reappearing tools.

One night we are woken by a loud crash and went outside to find the ladder lying on its side on the ground.

“That ladder was wedged in tight,” Peter said, looking at me wide-eyed.  “Someone must have given that a good shove.” Peter shook his head in bewilderment.

There were times when the radio would suddenly stop playing, only to turn on again once I resumed working.  It unsettled me a bit but I couldn’t say I was scared  -  just curious more than anything.
As soon as the floorboards were laid we were treated to the sound of heavy footsteps walking up and down them at night.  We installed security lights set to turn on when triggered by movement  -  but the house site remained shrouded in darkness and the footsteps continued night after night.  As the house building progressed, so did the disturbances.

One of our few neighbours was a solitary old man by the name of Jack, who’d lived in the area for over 50 years.  I’d met him once or twice when in town gathering supplies, so I recognized him when he turned up unannounced one afternoon.

“Have you found the grave yet?” Jack asked candidly.  “What grave!?!”   I replied, catching my breath in my throat.

Jack then led Pete and I straight into the bush just off to the right of our half-built home.  Once there we came upon a large circle of stones and a roughly hewn, unreadable headstone, overgrown with weeds and bracken.

“Nobody knows whose grave this is, but its’ been here for many, many years,” Jack explained.  “It probably dates back to the family who originally owned all this land back in the 19th Century.  This area was founded by pioneers back in the day ...” Jack continued.

Peter and I looked at each other, then back at the grave.  “Well,” Pete said, “maybe that’s whose been walking on our floorboards at night and nicking all my tools?”  I could only nod in bemused agreement.
One afternoon a couple of days after Jack’s visit, I found Peter clearing and tidying the gravesite and I could hear him chattering away to himself as I approached from behind.

“Charlie, I’ve called him” Pete said, looking up at me with a smile. “If we have to share our home with a ghost, then best we keep him comfortable I reckon.”

After that Pete’s tools stayed where he left them and the radio stopped playing up.  It was as though Charlie had been trying to attract our attention to alert us to his existence and to the state of his neglected and forgotten gravesite.  It seemed he was now happy and settled.

Our home is finally finished and Charlie lies at peace in the bush behind the house and we haven’t heard a peep from him since.

*