Roommates from the Other Side
This was told to us while growing up as a child by our uncle who stays abroad while he came for a visit. How true it is I don't know but I found it very interesting.
He said:It was to be our ideal house, a stunning old Victorian with wrap-around porches, hardwood flooring, and big bay windows. My spouse, Sarah, and I had been saving money for our Maple Street home for years. We had no idea, though, that there were other people moving in with us.
Our first night together was the first indication that something was wrong. Before going to bed, I was finishing off the walkthrough when I heard muffled laughter coming from the upstairs hallway. Ignoring it, I went to bed with Sarah, thinking it was just the settling of the homes.
Over the next few days, the odd occurrences kept piling up. Doors we left open would be found closed. The TV would switch channels randomly, even after we'd double-checked that all the remotes were accounted for. At night, we'd wake up frequently to creaking footsteps wandering the hall outside our room.
"I'm sure it's just the house adjusting since it's so old," Sarah reassured me whenever I brought up the weirdness. But deep down, even she looked unsettled by these unexplained happenings.
Then one morning, things took a truly unnerving turn. I was in the kitchen brewing coffee when a porcelain doll I'd never seen before went flying off the counter, crashing to the floor in pieces. There was nobody else around - just me, alone in that kitchen. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
From that point on, it was like an invisible force made its presence known daily. Cabinet doors would slam shut forcefully as we walked by. The fireplace would burn through an entire night's worth of wood in just an hour. Our cat Jinx started hissing randomly at unseen things throughout the house.
Sarah and I didn't dare speak about what might be causing all this, but we knew. We were dealing with something...paranormal. It felt like the house itself did not want us there, like we were trespassing on its domain.
I investigated the history of the property and was even more alarmed by what I discovered at the local records office. Built in 1885, this home belonged to a prosperous family with two young girls. The father, a banker with a severe gambling addiction, killed himself by hanging in the guest bedroom upstairs after losing everything.
Years later, the devastated mother passed away under mysterious circumstances, leaving the two girls, now teenagers, to be shunted between various relatives' homes. In their late 20s, both sisters died in that house within a year of each other from what was believed to be consumption - an illness rampant at that time.
I studied the old family portrait on file, locking eyes with the two smiling girls forever frozen in time before tragedy had struck their young lives. An uneasy feeling washed over me. Were those the restless spirits we were dealing with in our home?
Sarah and I tried all the usual ghost-busting tactics - saging the rooms, playing calming music, even calling a priest for a house blessing. But nothing could keep the paranormal activity at bay for long. It was like these ghostly presences were digging their heels in, determined to not let us find solace within those walls.
We started contemplating putting the place back on the market, surrendering to the overwhelming feeling that we didn't belong there. But every time we'd make a plan to move, more strange incidents would happen to disrupt our efforts - pots and pans flying off their hooks, strange shadows appearing in rooms where there were no lights. It was almost as if the house itself didn't want us to leave either.
Finally, we reached our breaking point a few months later. Sarah had gone upstairs to take a relaxing bath when I heard her shriek bloody murder from the bathroom. I raced up to find her trembling, clutching a towel around herself as water flooded the hallway floor from the overflowed tub.
"There was...there was a little girl IN the tub with me!" Sarah cried between sobs. "She just...appeared and looked right at me before sinking under the water!"
That was it. We were done. Whether these ghostly encounters were from the spirits of those two doomed daughters or something much more sinister, it was clear we could no longer inhabit this place where the dead so firmly roamed.
We packed up and moved back into a rental the very next day, leaving that forever-haunted estate behind. As I pulled the moving truck away, giving one last pained look through the rearview mirror, it felt like the house almost seemed to sigh with relief - as if to say "I told you so."
To this day, whenever we pass by our old home on Maple Street, we make sure to never linger. It may have been our dream house at one point, but those vengeful spirits clearly felt otherwise. And it's a chilling feeling, knowing you spent months being unwanted roommates to those who should have passed on long before.
I hope it was an interesting one?
Thank you for reading my post
