I was asked in another thread to commit this to text, so here goes. This still scares the S*** out of me, not because its on par with Stephen King, but because it happened to my family, in a house I knew, most people will probably read this and think “big deal”, as would I if I didnt know the people in it, the house and that its 100% true.
Everyone in this except my mother are now dead and I dont want to bother her with this as I know it disturbs her too, so its from memory, I havent added or changed anything though, its as it was told to me 20+ years ago.
The house is situated in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, UK. I wont give the street address as its very unfair if anyone starts bothering the current owners, especially if the house is now “quiet”. If anyone has a genuine reason to know the street address you can always PM me and give your reasons for wanting the full address.
This starts in the late 1930s. The house is a big terrace house, lots of rooms, looks average sized from the outside, but goes back a long way so its big. I still have the bill of sale for the house, they paid a massive £500 for it, which was a lot then, all of you with a mortgage can start crying now
My father had an Uncle called “Frank”, he was my grandmothers brother, he was a very talented artist (I have some of his work and some of his photograph albums too), for a job he drew master pictures that became labels that went on food packaging etc. Frank came to live with my Grandparents shortly after they married. Frank and his friends where very interested in communicating with each-other in dreams and they are supposed to have achieved such, giving each-other messages etc. in their sleep, this of course I cannot prove, or say is 100% true. Because of his success with dreams Frank tried other things too, after a lot of work he could slam doors upstairs just by thinking, hed say “My bedroom door”, concentrate and then “BANG” it slammed, pretty impressive stuff. They where considered little more than “party tricks” by my grandparents, maybe Frank was just good at tricking them?
After a year or so Frank moved out of my grandparents house onto pastures new and I have no idea what happened to him after this, I never thought to ask while relatives where living and now sadly its too late, I now know I SHOULD have.
Thats when the trouble started. Doors slammed on their own, there was a bad feeling upstairs, it soon became evident that Frank wasnt playing tricks on my Grandparents, but also he wasnt doing it with his mind, something was doing it for him and it was a THING – all I can say about this is whatever it was no longer had a master.
I dont know what happened up to post WWII, then my Grandfather was a baker, he worked in Skegness, Lincolnshire, UK. He used to push bike to work on a Sunday night, about a 3 hour ride (I'm guessing the time based on the distance) and then bike home on Friday morning. This left my Grandmother and my father (an only child) alone in the house. My father was now a teenager. He told me about how my Grandmother wouldnt go up to bed at night because “a face was staring at her through the banisters”, she used to sleep downstairs, he used to try to get her to go up to bed, im unsure of whether he was successful.
When my parents got married they lived in my grandparents house as there was lots of room, one night my father woke up in the middle of the night and went to the toilet (the house was fortunate enough to have an upstairs toilet). In the darkness, half asleep, on his way back to the bedroom he remembered moving to one side to let someone pass him on the landing, it wasnt my mother or either of his parents, no-one else was in the house. He arrived in his bedroom shaking in a cold sweat, my parents then put a deposit down on the house I was to grow up in. I understand this event was a catalyst in them leaving.
As children my younger brother and myself visited my grandparents with my parents on a Sunday afternoon. The golden rule of the house was NO-ONE IS ALLOWED UPSTAIRS. One afternoon my brother was sat on the bottom stair, he was about 7. My mother kept calling him to come into the back room, he never arrived, after a couple of minutes my father went to fetch him. My 7 year old brother was cold, sweating, had tears streaming down his face and couldnt move.
I remember I was always afraid of the middle rooms window, it seems totally illogical and for no reason, but it always seemed menacing, as if it was watching me, this was of course stupid, but its a memory I have from childhood.
After a stroke and complications, my grandfather died in the 1970s, leaving my grandmother alone in the house, when we visited her we entered through the front door, walked past the front room that was her bedroom, down a long hall into the middle room, when we entered the middle room she always looked scared, as if we werent necessarily going to be who we where. This look of course I didnt understand, its only since ive thought about all this ive drawn this conclusion.
My grandmother became frail but she had her wits about her, she taught me to play chess, someone who “wasnt with it” probably couldnt do such. She even let me win occasionally in true grandmother style. The neighbors used to help her, if she needed them shed knock on the wall to next-door and they come round and see what the problem was. One day they came round every 15 minutes, answering my grandmothers knock, only she hadnt knocked, not even once all day.
One evening my grandmother, alone in the house as usual, felt something pushing against her, pushing and pushing, trying to push her over, eventually she lost he balance and she was pushed over, next door heard her knock on the wall and came around to see what the problem was, shed had a bad fall, an ambulance was called, shed broken her hip, strange thing was she was nowhere near the wall to next-door and she didnt recall knocking. She never returned to the house and finished her days staying with us and then in an OAP home.
My parents cleared out the house, my brother and I went with my parents to the house a couple of times, we werent allowed out of their sight, when my father needed to collect his old national service kit bag from upstairs (he felt obliged to keep) my mother took my brother and I into the front garden then my father went upstairs to find his bag.
The house was eventually sold, I do remember it being on sale again within a year.
PS As a teenager my hobby was photography, my father taught me to develop and print my own black and white pictures, I once asked him if hed ever tried photographing what was in the house, the look of horror on his face stopped me perusing that line of questioning further, perhaps he had photographed it, I have 1000s of his negatives, I havent found anything like that in them yet though.
Im sure there is more to this story that I dont know, but this is all I can remember, I have lost sleep on the odd night thinking about it and its the reason Im not 100% content in darkness. Many of you may laugh at this and yes I will probably scorn your ghost stories, although I dont consider what was in the house to be a ghost, it was a “thing” somehow Frank had got control over, then abandoned and I believe it was pretty pi**** off with the situation it was left in.
I wonder if its still there?
Everyone in this except my mother are now dead and I dont want to bother her with this as I know it disturbs her too, so its from memory, I havent added or changed anything though, its as it was told to me 20+ years ago.
The house is situated in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, UK. I wont give the street address as its very unfair if anyone starts bothering the current owners, especially if the house is now “quiet”. If anyone has a genuine reason to know the street address you can always PM me and give your reasons for wanting the full address.
This starts in the late 1930s. The house is a big terrace house, lots of rooms, looks average sized from the outside, but goes back a long way so its big. I still have the bill of sale for the house, they paid a massive £500 for it, which was a lot then, all of you with a mortgage can start crying now
My father had an Uncle called “Frank”, he was my grandmothers brother, he was a very talented artist (I have some of his work and some of his photograph albums too), for a job he drew master pictures that became labels that went on food packaging etc. Frank came to live with my Grandparents shortly after they married. Frank and his friends where very interested in communicating with each-other in dreams and they are supposed to have achieved such, giving each-other messages etc. in their sleep, this of course I cannot prove, or say is 100% true. Because of his success with dreams Frank tried other things too, after a lot of work he could slam doors upstairs just by thinking, hed say “My bedroom door”, concentrate and then “BANG” it slammed, pretty impressive stuff. They where considered little more than “party tricks” by my grandparents, maybe Frank was just good at tricking them?
After a year or so Frank moved out of my grandparents house onto pastures new and I have no idea what happened to him after this, I never thought to ask while relatives where living and now sadly its too late, I now know I SHOULD have.
Thats when the trouble started. Doors slammed on their own, there was a bad feeling upstairs, it soon became evident that Frank wasnt playing tricks on my Grandparents, but also he wasnt doing it with his mind, something was doing it for him and it was a THING – all I can say about this is whatever it was no longer had a master.
I dont know what happened up to post WWII, then my Grandfather was a baker, he worked in Skegness, Lincolnshire, UK. He used to push bike to work on a Sunday night, about a 3 hour ride (I'm guessing the time based on the distance) and then bike home on Friday morning. This left my Grandmother and my father (an only child) alone in the house. My father was now a teenager. He told me about how my Grandmother wouldnt go up to bed at night because “a face was staring at her through the banisters”, she used to sleep downstairs, he used to try to get her to go up to bed, im unsure of whether he was successful.
When my parents got married they lived in my grandparents house as there was lots of room, one night my father woke up in the middle of the night and went to the toilet (the house was fortunate enough to have an upstairs toilet). In the darkness, half asleep, on his way back to the bedroom he remembered moving to one side to let someone pass him on the landing, it wasnt my mother or either of his parents, no-one else was in the house. He arrived in his bedroom shaking in a cold sweat, my parents then put a deposit down on the house I was to grow up in. I understand this event was a catalyst in them leaving.
As children my younger brother and myself visited my grandparents with my parents on a Sunday afternoon. The golden rule of the house was NO-ONE IS ALLOWED UPSTAIRS. One afternoon my brother was sat on the bottom stair, he was about 7. My mother kept calling him to come into the back room, he never arrived, after a couple of minutes my father went to fetch him. My 7 year old brother was cold, sweating, had tears streaming down his face and couldnt move.
I remember I was always afraid of the middle rooms window, it seems totally illogical and for no reason, but it always seemed menacing, as if it was watching me, this was of course stupid, but its a memory I have from childhood.
After a stroke and complications, my grandfather died in the 1970s, leaving my grandmother alone in the house, when we visited her we entered through the front door, walked past the front room that was her bedroom, down a long hall into the middle room, when we entered the middle room she always looked scared, as if we werent necessarily going to be who we where. This look of course I didnt understand, its only since ive thought about all this ive drawn this conclusion.
My grandmother became frail but she had her wits about her, she taught me to play chess, someone who “wasnt with it” probably couldnt do such. She even let me win occasionally in true grandmother style. The neighbors used to help her, if she needed them shed knock on the wall to next-door and they come round and see what the problem was. One day they came round every 15 minutes, answering my grandmothers knock, only she hadnt knocked, not even once all day.
One evening my grandmother, alone in the house as usual, felt something pushing against her, pushing and pushing, trying to push her over, eventually she lost he balance and she was pushed over, next door heard her knock on the wall and came around to see what the problem was, shed had a bad fall, an ambulance was called, shed broken her hip, strange thing was she was nowhere near the wall to next-door and she didnt recall knocking. She never returned to the house and finished her days staying with us and then in an OAP home.
My parents cleared out the house, my brother and I went with my parents to the house a couple of times, we werent allowed out of their sight, when my father needed to collect his old national service kit bag from upstairs (he felt obliged to keep) my mother took my brother and I into the front garden then my father went upstairs to find his bag.
The house was eventually sold, I do remember it being on sale again within a year.
PS As a teenager my hobby was photography, my father taught me to develop and print my own black and white pictures, I once asked him if hed ever tried photographing what was in the house, the look of horror on his face stopped me perusing that line of questioning further, perhaps he had photographed it, I have 1000s of his negatives, I havent found anything like that in them yet though.
Im sure there is more to this story that I dont know, but this is all I can remember, I have lost sleep on the odd night thinking about it and its the reason Im not 100% content in darkness. Many of you may laugh at this and yes I will probably scorn your ghost stories, although I dont consider what was in the house to be a ghost, it was a “thing” somehow Frank had got control over, then abandoned and I believe it was pretty pi**** off with the situation it was left in.
I wonder if its still there?
