True Ghost Stories

Sometimes it's the small things

March 30, 2017 |  0 comments
Image Credit: sxc.hu People always find it such an odd thing when I tell them I'm in my 20s and scared of the dark. I give them a rational explanation because I just can't tell them the truth. Mostly because I find the truth hard to believe. I'm a woman of science and the thought of myself being scared of what might lurk in the shadows is ridiculous.

As much as my mind can't understand the supernatural, my heart fears it. The reason for this is that no matter how much I look for facts and evidence, I can't selectively choose my evidence. There are some things that happened to me that makes me know that no matter how hard I try not to believe, it's impossible. These stories have left me forever unable to completely reject the supernatural. They might not have been big, or intense but sometimes it's the accumulation of the small things that make it so hard to ignore.

Here are these stories...

The Doll

This is one of the most powerful ones because there was no logical explanation and I wasn't the only one who witnessed it.

My cousin and I were only children. Our parents had gone out for to do some shopping, leaving us to play alone (I was older and 11 so I had to mind her).

We placed my cousin's doll in the kitchen, against the wall. Then we proceeded to go upstairs to play. I then decided a few minutes later I would go downstairs to get something.

It was when I walked down the stairs I saw her doll sitting in the middle of them. My brain knew my cousin had been with me the whole time but I still called her over and asked did she put the doll there. Needless to say she got so freaked out she started hysterically crying.

Nobody was home and we truly hadn't left each others' side. I still have an apprehension towards dolls to this day.

The stairs

This story still haunts me to this day. It was my brother and I home alone for the night (our mum worked night shift). It was the same house that the doll incident took place in.

I'm up late because my mum isn't home to tell me to go to bed and my brother is in his room. I climb into bed finally and decide I should try sleep.

I barely closed my eyes before I hear someone coming up the stairs. I wouldn't have taken a second thought to it if there hadn't been something eerily off about the steps.

As I said, it was only me and my brother in the house. He had, and always probably will, been the type of person who heavily plundered up the stairs in a hurry. My whole life I had heard him go up and down stairs and I knew very well what he sounded like.

This time the footsteps were not hurried. They were slow, careful steps. Not heavy, but weighed enough to make the distinguishable sound of footsteps on the stairs.

I still remember lying there with a wild heart rate and breathing so quietly so I could listen more intently. Which wasn't needed as the stairs were right next to my room.

I waited in fear until the last step was reached and that was it. No really, no steps continued along the creaky floor of the hall upstairs. They just stopped without as much as a sound.

I waited 30 seconds before I gathered the courage to go into my brother's room, hoping to find him awake. He was completely passed out, always having been a heavy sleeper. I ran into my mum's empty bed and threw the covers over me until I fell asleep.

The copybook This one is the one I have the hardest time believing, even if it happened to me.

It was in the same house as the previous stories. I was playing the Nintendo GameCube happily away in my room. I had brought a desk in front of my bed earlier where I had an opened copy book and pen on it. As well as a piece of knitting wool, a string for reasons I can't remember.

I was casually playing away when, if my memory serves correct, the pen flew off the desk, and the string had been slightly wrapped around it which hadn't been how I left it.

I remember getting such a fright because it didn't fall off, it hit the wall and made me jump, distracting me from my game. I remember staring in disbelief for a few seconds, noticing the string oddly wrapped around the pen, and the copy book slightly turned before I ran downstairs like there was no tomorrow.

The music box

Another story that I can't deny. This one at least happened when I was 17 and I couldn't blame false memories or wild imaginations.

It was me and a friend home alone. I was helping dye her hair in the bathroom at night. We were chatting away talking when suddenly we both stopped because we heard something.

It was a melody. A creepy, eerie Melody that sounded like it was coming from a music box or something similar. The two of us strained to hear where it was coming from, looking at each other in dread.

Surely we forgot to turn off the stereo? We went into the living room where we saw no piece of electric equipment was on. Not the stereo, not the TV. Our phones had been in the bathroom with us and that's not where the sound had been coming from.

After a while it stopped. The two of us searched the house but nothing we knew could have made that melody. Afterwards one of us went outside to play a Melody from YouTube while the other stayed inside

We realised then that there was no way that we would have heard it coming from outside the house. It was almost as if the melody, that had sounded so clear, so creepy, had just been floating around thin air...

The Voices

This is one of those stories that I would have easily dismissed as being all in my head if I hadn't previously had those unexplained experiences I described above.

I was in the bathroom downstairs (different house than the doll, stairs and copybook, but same bathroom as the Melody)

I was 17 and I was trying something out with my hair in the mirror when suddenly I heard voices. These voices weren't clear. They were soft, gentle and muffled. You know like when you hear the TV on in another room. Which is exactly what I thought it was. Perhaps my mum had turned up the volume on the TV.

So naturally I left the bathroom and entered the Living room. Where nobody was and the TV was off. Strange, because I could still hear them.

I walked around the entire house. I slowly entered my mum's room to find her asleep and my brother didn't live with us anymore. Getting more worried, I looked outside both in the front and back but there was no neighbours in sight. If anything the voices couldn't be heard from outside.

Eventually they just faded out. Another night I had been going to print out something and the same low, gentle and almost soothing muffled voices started again. I searched the entire house again but no luck. I thought it had been my neighbours, but I have played music before and they can't hear it through the walls, as our house is almost detached but not quite. I could still hear the muffled voices at the same sound level, no matter which room I went in.

These stories are nothing worth putting in a movie or writing a book about. But they're real. No matter how small or odd they are, they're a series of true events. Maybe one big incident I could deny and ignore. But when many small, unexplainable things such as these occur, it's hard to deny there isn't something out there that we just can't explain.

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