About 12 years ago I rented the upstairs apartment in a house that was probably built around 1910-1920. I never felt anything weird about it, but always wondered about the previous tenants.
I rarely, if ever, have fresh cut flowers in house. But I remember the one time I had a big bouquet in a heavy vase sitting in the middle of the dining table. In the morning, it had moved from the center of the table to one side, about 6 inches from the edge. Now this wouldn't be too weird in and of itself, especially with two young cats in the house, only there was a table cloth on the table and it was undisturbed.
OK, I should be doing reports, but I have another Fran story.
This happened while I was living in the apartment (the flower vase one) and before I moved into our current house.
Milly, the woman whom my husband (then "boyfriend") looked after and whose own husband Fran had passed away some 10 years earlier, had fallen ill and had moved to the nursing home. We were purchasing the house, and as my husband was her right hand and her family absent, we were cleaning out her house and managing affairs.
Well, anyone who has tidied up a life will understand this, there are some things you just don't know what to do with. The most common items being purses, wallets, IDs, those sort of ultra personal things which often define our identities and which we cling to day to day and fear losing. Milly had kept Fran's wallet. We found it in a drawer, and Hubby didn't know what to do with it. That Sunday afternnon, he took it to his house and put it in a chest drawer with some other similar items.
My husband's house was next door to Fran and Milly's house. My apartment was across town, and on the second floor. The house had been built as a duplex, and my "front door" opened onto the front porch and was the door that would be locked, but you had to climb a flight of stairs where there was a landing and an old wooden apartment door.
It wasn't too unusual for Mr. SA to call me in the morning before I left for work. That morning, after we had been working in Fran and Milly's house, he called me before my alarm went off at 6:30. He said he had awakened at around 5am to sounds of someone walking around the house. He could hear footsteps in his attic, and hallway. Mr. SA is a retired police Seargent, and while he is not new to hauntings in his own house, he sounded rather shaken up as he had found no intruder. He said I probably thought he was crazy.
For some reason it sort of made sense to me, and I was unruffled. I was already familiar with Fran's ghostly antics, so me reply was. "no I don't think you're crazy. I heard pounding on my upstairs door around 5:30 but there was no one there. It's probably that darn Fran. Did you move anything of his yesterday?"
Oregon, sitting on my couch looking out the window at a mountain
I forgot a dog-related ghost story.
One night I was staying at PePo's house. PePo's husband had had an old, stinky Pit Bull that had passed away since I had been there last. I loved that old stinky dog and he was one of my doggy friends.
In the middle of the night I woke up to a big stinky dog panting next to my bed but when I rolled over no one was there (bedroom door was closed, it wouldn't have been one of the other dogs because they are small and their breath wouldn't have been at the level of my head).
The next morning I told Mr. PePo that his ghost dog visited me the night before - he said the dog had visited him a few times, too.
My sister and I rented an old farm house years ago. It was our first place on our own. We were both in work and school, and she worked weird shifts as a paramedic.
When we first looked at the house I loved it. Felt really warm and welcoming, but we had the craziest things happen there.
You could hear talking. It always seemed to be coming from the living room or one of two upstairs bedrooms. Amy and I were always thinking the other person had left a tv or radio on and going in search of it. Never found anything on. It was interesting because it was something other people could hear when they were there. DH who was BF at the time was spooked by it and never wanted to stay overnight there.
Things were moved around frequently. It was nothing bad or mean, just never where you left them. At first we'd think we hadn't left the item where we thought, or that the other person had done it, but one night we were having hot chocolate and left the house to make a McD's run. When we came back our mugs were no longer on the side tables in the living room. We looked around and found them in the kitchen sink...
Clean laundry got moved a lot. From one place to another still in stacks. It wasn't always where you thought it should be or where it would go. Might be in the bathroom or in the kitchen. One time we came home from somewhere and there was a tall stack of our folded up bras and panties sitting on the porch...neither of us actually remembered throwing them in the dryer, but we must have done because they weren't wet.
Another thing that was moved around were the dogs. Amy had a Rottie and I had a small white dog. Before we'd leave for work/school/whatever we'd lock our dogs up in the back room. It was a large room and we had our laundry in there and a couch for the dogs and the floor was linoleum so was easy if there were accidents. When I'd come home the Rottie would still be in the back room and my dog would be locked up in my bedroom. To do that you had to get from the back room through the kitchen, and into my bedroom and shut both bedroom doors. The door to the back room was always closed back up too.
That farmhouse had five doors that went outside. One in the living room, one in a bedroom, one in the laundry room, one in the little hall/entry that also went to the basement, and one in the kitchen. The kitchen doorway opened into a long enclosed porch then outside. That particular door was always open. We could lock it securely and look out into the kitchen 5 minutes later and it would be wide open. Or you'd get up in the middle of the night for a drink and the door would be standing open. It was CONSTANT. One day I flipped my lid and started ranting and raving about how expensive the fuel oil bill was, that I couldn't afford this BS in the middle of winter, blah blah blah, and went over and slammed the door. Amy was shushing me and worried about pissing it off, but It never opened again after that.
One day I was alone in the house. It was winter, and I'd let the dogs outside right before I hopped in the shower. They started barking loudly (well, the Rottie was, mine was more YAP YAP YAP ha ha) and I shouted out "Make yourself useful and let the dogs in!" Dogs stopped barking. I didn't think anything else of it, just finished my shower, did my hair/makeup, opened the bathroom door and fell over the dogs who were SQUISHED up against the door and fell inside as I opened it. The exterior doors were all closed tight as was the porch door. There was just no way they could have gotten back in on their own. That freaked me out the most.
I never asked it to do anything like that again, but we both got in the habit of shouting out what we'd lost...like "Have you seen my keys?!?" Then you'd walk into the kitchen for the 5th time and there they'd be on the kitchen table...stuff like that.
My daughter has a bunny that is her lovie. She sleeps with it, needs it when she's sick or hurt, etc. I have a few of them but she only gets one at a time. There are times when all the extras are around somewhere but not to be found. Of course this would happen when I needed to leave for work NOW. I would run thru the house looking everywhere my then 3 year old said she had been. Nothing. Finally after 5-10 minutes I would say in exasperation "Please. Can you just put bunny back? I'd REALLY appreciate it." I'd walk around again and look and walk in to a room and the bunny would be saying in the middle of the bedspread or someplace else TOTALLY obvious. He hadn't been there moments before.
That apartment did have an older man who was always tryin to fix the cabinets in the middle of the night. My mom commented when she first stayed there a few times.
I grew up in a house with ghosts. Children running down steps to peek at Christmas tree when my brother and I were sound asleep. Snoring coming from toybox when brother and I were outside playing. Found out later it was a winter home for the kids who lived too far from the rural school. So, kid activity makes sense.
Neighbor's house was haunted too, but that ghost was an a-hole. Liked pushing little kids down the huge flight of steps, provoked responses in full light, etc.
"You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here." ~ Desiderata by Max Ehrmann
I can tell you that between my sis and I thinking the other person was doing it it took us a while to figure it out! Took us going out and coming home together a few times and finding things moved for it to start clicking.