Ghost Stories & Paranormal Encounters

First of all, this all happened somewhat of a long time ago, but it is still fresh in my mind.

When I was growing up, I lived in a hundred year old house, and my parents were separated. I was living with my father. We had many cats, but I don’t think they were the reason for unexplained noises.

When I was sleeping in my bed, sometimes when I was little, when I woke up I would crawl in my father’s bed. His room was closest to the laundry room. He often fell asleep quickly, as he listened to a radio with earphones. But I took much longer to finally sleep.

We had a washer and dryer, the washer had a top lid, easy to open, while the dryer had a side lid, with a “latch”. When I was trying to fall asleep, I would hear the washer’s lid open, and drop. Open, and drop. This only happened a few times, and when I woke up my father, he would say it was the cats, but jumping on he lid is a different sound from dropping the lid.

Later, when I was older, I stopped climbing in Dad’s bed. My bed was closest to the staircase, and we had shelves filled with books downstairs. Now, this is really unexplainable. When I woke up, it took me a long time to go to sleep, so I would listen and think. For a week or so, every other night, (not very frequent) it sounded like books fell from the shelve, but I didn’t hear them being picked up. and in the morning, when I returned downstairs, they were all back on their shelves!

My first encounter was very creepy. My father used to sleep in a bed where I eventually slept. my room was small, and it came off from my dad’s room. Whenever I woke up, I would crawl in. One morning however, I saw the top part of a boy’s (I felt it was that kind of energy) head pass from my room to the closest at the top of the stairs. From then on, I was scared of my room.

When I was eleven, I was always at my Grandmother’s house. One day, was talking on one of those phones with a cord. I had given the phone to whoever was on the line was asking for, and when I went back to hang up the other phone (there were two) I was about to touch it when it was stretched down, as if pulled by an invisible force.

The ghost in my Grandmother’s house was probably Mr. hand, a man who shot himself in the (removed) bath tub.

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