A while ago, my house started having some strange occurrences. And while those could be written off as me not getting enough sleep, I like to think that I'm interesting enough that a ghost would want to hang out with me.
FYI: I don't really know if I believe in ghosts, but I do like to go ghost hunting.
Let's jump into the story.
The Beginning
The first part of the "haunting" was when I was vacuuming the stairs. For reference, there are two rooms leading off from the bottom of the stairs, both of which have doors that were closed. I didn't bother to turn the lights on, because the light from the landing above me illuminates just enough to see fine, and I was feeling lazy. My dog, who absolutely loathes the vacuum and won't go anywhere near it, started barking and growling at me from the top of the stairs. I chalked it up to her hatred of it, but when I finished, brought the vacuum up the stairs with me and unplugged it, my dog continued to stare down the stairs and growl.
The Stranger Stuff
Maybe a week later, I was sitting in my room making the bed, the door partially open. My dog scurried past the door, nails clicking. I paid no mind to it for about 30 seconds until I realized that my dog was sitting on the carpet next to me, fast asleep. I own exactly one dog. That was unsettling, but I let it slide.
The Scariest Part
I had a dream that my house (which was only about 20 years old) was the site of a ghastly murder that took place in the attic. It was horrific and also, for the record, did not happen. But in my dream, I was walking home when I heard a scream. It was coming from my house, so I sprinted forward and burst open my two front doors. I woke up before I knew who screamed or why, but this is where it gets scary. It was probably three in the morning and the house was frigid for some reason, so I went out to turn up the thermostat. Instead, I found that a cold draft was coming through my two front doors, which were both wide open. it should be noted that both doors are solid wood, incredibly heavy, deadbolted every night, and have never once blown open before. I shut them again and headed back to my room. I passed the laundry room (which is directly underneath the attic) and saw that the single-lightbulb light was on, even though the bulb had burned out a week ago and I hadn't had time to replace it yet.
What happened after
Reasonably terrified and unsettled, I prayed for my house, texted my friends, and went to bed. And that was it. Pretty much any creepy occurrences stopped. Do I believe in ghosts? Maybe. Is it more likely that it was just a coincidence? Yeah. But does it make for one heck of a story? heck yes.
If you have a house haunting story of your own, tell me. What did you do to get rid of it? Is it ongoing?
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