When grandma was a little kid, she lived with her baby sister, brother and mother. They had one maid in the house and their father was usually out for work. They lived in an old Victorian I think, in a town. A few relatives were over too – all women. They all spread a huge mattress in the hall – and slept together, with the little kids in between, for comfort and safety – for there were no men folk. Late at night – they heard knocks on the door….
Not the front door, but the hall door – inside the house! How could have anyone entered? Maybe it was the outhouse or neighbors – they had access… unless… could it be a thief? But why in the world would a thief knock?
So well, they did go and check… and no one! This happened a few times (well they didn’t have a peep-hole.) It could be a bunch of pranksters… they thought… but they all strongly believed in ghosts and spirits. My great grandmother had a good idea just then.
She took the burnt ashes of wood and quickly sprayed it outside the door. They were too scared to actually go outside. If it was someone – there would be footprints… the knocking re-occurred.
They had a look at the ashes…. no prints… most of the ashes had blown off…. maybe the person spotted them, or maybe it was one without any legs… real legs… maybe it was a spirit.
The second time – they waxed the door. The knocker would definitely leave prints correct? It happened again-and, absolutely no prints… Nobody could make anything out of it. It had to be spirits. (Well, it wasn’t any natural factors or people – for the front door – when they later checked, and all other doors were bolted shut – and there no open windows or anything. The air was very still, and if it had been wind, the chimes would have rung… right?) There was apparently a very strange smell…
What do you guys make out of it? I know this isn’t scary, but the same thing happened to me later (I’ve wrote about that before.) It is almost like the same entity knocked… I wonder who it could be and why.
Sent in by grimreaper, Copyright 2010 TrueGhostTales.com