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blackwater · 08-11-2011, 01:53 PM

Years back I used to live in a house were a family were killed in a fire started by an infamous local arsonist about 10 years before we moved in.
When we moved in we had a welcoming committee of about 4 or five local residents informing us of the houses history. They informed us that a boy who died in the fire was still living in the house. One member of this welcoming committee was the boys aunt, she lived in the house next door but one.
She told us that we may see or hear the boy and that he is happy and at peace in the house and would cause no trouble. She asked us for assurance that if we did see him we would NOT "make a fuss, contact the media invite clairvoyants into the house or get a priest to bless the house"
Usually, I would have told her to get the fuck out my house but I did know about a family dying at the hands of this arsonist down this street. I just didnt realize it was the house I had moved into.
She was a nice old bod and she clearly believed her nephew was happily living in the house. Who was I to burst her bubble? so I assured her that she had nothing to worry about.
I told her that he was more than welcome to stay in the house and joked that as long as he doesn't play loud music after 11:00 well get on just fine.
I got on well with this old woman and used to feel real sorry for her. At Christmas and the date of the boys birthday she would ask if we had seen him. Brought a tear and a lump every time, bless her.
As nice as she was I thought she was off with the pixies. I used to feel a pang of guilt when My gf and I would see her walking past the house and we'd joke that she was popping to the pub to have a quick gin with her great uncle alf who died in the 1st world war.
about 6 months later she collapsed in my front room, the paramedics tried (to a point) but she died on my new fucking rug (bless her). She was almost 90 but it was still a head fuck.
About a week later I was sat downstairs while my gf and 5 month old daughter were upstairs asleep hogging my bed.
Now, when we moved in to the house there was an old solid wooden door resting against the bedroom wall that I had not got round to stripping and painting.
It was heavy, my gf couldnt move it so it stayed put until I got my lazy ass into gear and did something with it.
So when I heard it scraping across the floor I thought what the fuck is she moving that thing for after all this time. She's going to do her back in or worse, wake the baby up. Just as I was about to drag myself away from MOH1 and go see what she was doing I heard such a fucking bang then silence.
The door that had remained in one place for over half a year had moved and landed on her head and almost knocked her out. What the fuck?? When I lifted the door from her I could see that there was no way that the door was leaning up against the wall when it fell. For it to reach where she was sleeping it would have had to be moved by at least 4ft from the wall first then fall.
I would not believe that this was the work of a ghost or any other bullshit even though I knew for sure that something moved the door before it started to fall.
Rather than being scared I was in an almighty rage that I was the man of the house and I didnt have the fucking answer as to how this happened. It was out of my hands and I didn't like it.

I wouldn't allow myself to entertain the notion that this was a ghost but for many months after the event I would still find myself getting worked up about how the fuck this happened.

I do not and will not believe in ghosts.
I do not and will not believe in ghosts.
I do not and will not belie...

08-11-2011, 01:53 PM
blackwater Confirmed User Industry Role: Join Date: Jun 2011 Posts: 117	Years back I used to live in a house were a family were killed in a fire started by an infamous local arsonist about 10 years before we moved in. When we moved in we had a welcoming committee of about 4 or five local residents informing us of the houses history. They informed us that a boy who died in the fire was still living in the house. One member of this welcoming committee was the boys aunt, she lived in the house next door but one. She told us that we may see or hear the boy and that he is happy and at peace in the house and would cause no trouble. She asked us for assurance that if we did see him we would NOT "make a fuss, contact the media invite clairvoyants into the house or get a priest to bless the house" Usually, I would have told her to get the fuck out my house but I did know about a family dying at the hands of this arsonist down this street. I just didnt realize it was the house I had moved into. She was a nice old bod and she clearly believed her nephew was happily living in the house. Who was I to burst her bubble? so I assured her that she had nothing to worry about. I told her that he was more than welcome to stay in the house and joked that as long as he doesn't play loud music after 11:00 well get on just fine. I got on well with this old woman and used to feel real sorry for her. At Christmas and the date of the boys birthday she would ask if we had seen him. Brought a tear and a lump every time, bless her. As nice as she was I thought she was off with the pixies. I used to feel a pang of guilt when My gf and I would see her walking past the house and we'd joke that she was popping to the pub to have a quick gin with her great uncle alf who died in the 1st world war. about 6 months later she collapsed in my front room, the paramedics tried (to a point) but she died on my new fucking rug (bless her). She was almost 90 but it was still a head fuck. About a week later I was sat downstairs while my gf and 5 month old daughter were upstairs asleep hogging my bed. Now, when we moved in to the house there was an old solid wooden door resting against the bedroom wall that I had not got round to stripping and painting. It was heavy, my gf couldnt move it so it stayed put until I got my lazy ass into gear and did something with it. So when I heard it scraping across the floor I thought what the fuck is she moving that thing for after all this time. She's going to do her back in or worse, wake the baby up. Just as I was about to drag myself away from MOH1 and go see what she was doing I heard such a fucking bang then silence. The door that had remained in one place for over half a year had moved and landed on her head and almost knocked her out. What the fuck?? When I lifted the door from her I could see that there was no way that the door was leaning up against the wall when it fell. For it to reach where she was sleeping it would have had to be moved by at least 4ft from the wall first then fall. I would not believe that this was the work of a ghost or any other bullshit even though I knew for sure that something moved the door before it started to fall. Rather than being scared I was in an almighty rage that I was the man of the house and I didnt have the fucking answer as to how this happened. It was out of my hands and I didn't like it. I wouldn't allow myself to entertain the notion that this was a ghost but for many months after the event I would still find myself getting worked up about how the fuck this happened. I do not and will not believe in ghosts. I do not and will not believe in ghosts. I do not and will not belie...