Real Ghost Stories From Real People!
"I inherited a house that my great-great grandfather had bought the land as a young man and eventually built a huge house on it. My great-grandfather and my grandmother (his daughter) were born in the house. My mother spent almost her whole childhood in that house. Twelve people had died in the house, including my mother – which was an odd situation in itself. My whole point is that there was HISTORY with a capital “H”.
I only spent vacations there growing up, but the house and everything in it always gave me the creeps. Then I inherited the whole thing – now I’m not saying that I believe in ghosts but this house, which I still own, is frightening. Let me tell you why:
I hired a plumber to fix the antique plumbing that runs through the attic – don’t ask, it’s a weird place. My grandmother, who in life was a cantankerous bitty – no other word for it – hated smoking, HATED IT. I left the plumber, who remembered my grandmother and had worked on the house before, to go about doing the plumbing stuff he had to do. I left the house to do errands, no one else was there.
When I got back about a half an hour later, he’s outside packing up his truck, I said, “where are you going?” Because he wasn’t done – it wasn’t possible. He told me that there was NO WAY he’d ever go into the house again, he was visibly shaking and his eyes kept darting over to the house. After a few minutes of me telling him I’d cancel the deposit check, I’d sue him – whatever, I was pissed! He finally told me what happened – he said that he lit up a cigarette in the attic and that he felt a cold rush of air behind his back and heard my grandmother say, “There’s no smoking in my house, PUT IT OUT!”
If you’re sitting in the downstairs library you can hear things moving upstairs, you can hear footsteps, things being dragged – I wish I was kidding. We’ve sat downstairs with people who’ve never been there and watched their faces as they realize that no living person is upstairs. We don’t enhance the story or try to scare people because the bedrooms are upstairs. I tell them it’s the wind in the trees. Do I believe in ghosts? hmmm…I’ve never seen one. I’ve never felt afraid, just mildly creeped out. But when I’m not at the house, which is most of the time – I’m fairly sure it’s occupied by the previous tenants. And I’ll never sell it because where would they go?"
"The Breathing Mickey Lamp"
"I was remembering an event that happened to me when I was about 3-4 years old. If anyone can shed some light on what exactly this thing was or has stories of their own to share, please do so.
My parents obtained from my grandmother a rather useful lamp for my bedroom. It was a lamp where Mickey Mouse formed the lamp base and the light and shade were directly above him. The lamp portion could be turned off and Mickey himself turned on to function as a nightlight. This was placed on top of the dresser which was at the foot of my bed so it was practically right over me.
The first night while trying to sleep I hear a sound that is hard to describe. I guess we'll call it the sound of stretching plastic. I open my eyes to find that Mickey has opened his mouth, revealing a row of teeth. I remember this quite vividly, so much so that I remember making out a plastic edge along the inside of his mouth, similar to the edge around a shampoo bottle or anything else that was two halves fused together.
This shouldn't have been possible since the lamp was a piece of plastic and shouldn't even have a mouth that opens. So I cry and scream for my mom who comes in and after explaining that Mickey made a face at me she told me it was a bad dream and to ignore it.
Night after night this thing would torment me by making various faces, and if I kept my eyes closed in an attempt to ignore it it would make sounds instead. I even remember an instance where I was lying on my side, opened my eyes and the lamp was now on the floor, looking up at me.
My parents insist it's just bad dreams and to ignore it. However, after about two weeks of this my mom got sick of being woken up by my screaming so she humored me by covering the lamp with a pile of clothes so I couldn't see it and to show me it's nothing to worry about.
This didn't deter the lamp, it merely changed tactics. Since I couldn't see it it resorted to making sounds. It's favorite would be to make a low breathing sound, which would get louder and louder and louder until I again freaked out and cried for my parents.
One morning I wake up and as I walk past the dresser to leave my room I heard that familiar creaking plastic sound. I turn to look and there was a gap in the clothing. The lamp had turned its head to look at me through this gap. The eyes were glowing bright red.
This again continues for several weeks. I tell my whole family and everyone I know and EVERYONE tells me to ignore it and that it's my imagination. So with no one believing me and no one supporting me on this I try to convince myself that yes it really is my imagination.
My aunt is babysitting me one day and she's in my room helping me get dressed. Well the lamp decides to act up and did its usual breathing trick. I kept telling myself "just ignore it it's not real" and the breathing kept getting louder. I was looking at my aunt to see if she reacted since this was the first time it had done something while someone else was in the room.
She didn't react at all. I was convinced yes this must be my imagination then since she can't hear it. The breathing didn't stop and she could see me getting nervous but I kept trying to play it off and said nothing was wrong. After awhile I couldn't take it anymore and ran out of the room. I remember the look on my aunts face and I felt bad. She was baffled and thought she had done something wrong or hurt me in some way.
I FINALLY convinced my mom to just get rid of the damn lamp and the next night it was gone. I didn't care what she did or question this. I was a little kid and just glad it was gone. It may have been my imagination but at least it was gone right?
Fast forward till I'm in my late teens. I had left this lamp behind me as a memory since it was just my imagination right? I was thinking about it one day though and out of curiosity I asked my mom what she had done with it. She had put it in the attic and then gave it to my sister many years later when she was born and a few years old.
I then go to my sister and asked her if she remembered the lamp and she said she did. I asked her if it did anything weird and she said "Yeah I hated it! It would breathe!"
Well, all those scars were reopened and now I'm back to wondering what the hell kind of entity was that?! For those that are wondering, the lamp is gone. My sister complained just as I did, so the lamp was given to my cousins. They complained of breathing as well, and the lamp was then sold to a stranger at a yard sale.
So that's my story. Does anyone else have a good one to share?"