So I wasn't sure where exactly to post this, but I thought this would be the closest so here it goes.
I don't remember exactly how old I was but I was still in lower primary school, so I would have been between five to nine. We just moved to Australia from Alaska (mom married an Australian man, I was already four) and after living with my new grandparents for a few months we finally bought our first house.
It wasn't a particularly old house, but weird things tended to happen. Like my toys would disappear, toys taken include one stuffed lizard, one stuffed panda and a mood ring with a teddy bear on it. While I never found the two stuffed animals, I did find part of the teddy bear ring. The ring was a birthday present from my Aunt who lives in Canada who I didn't get to see often, I never actually wore it as it was too special. So I kept it in a jewellry box on a shelf in my huge built in wardrobe.
One morning I pulled it down to play dressups with the plastic bangles I kept in there as well, only to find that it wasn't there. Or anywhere in my room, house or yard. My parents hadn't seen it and my little brother was still kept in a cot at that age, I was told repetitively that I must have lost it. It was just plain gone. I was upset to say the very least, the thing I loved most about that ring, wasn't that it changed colour (mood rings were available everywhere back then anyway), but it was that little silver teddy playing the drum, there wasn't any other like it.
When my next birthday came it returned, I found the little silver teddy that adorned the ring, in the middle of my dirt driveway, propped up by a rock to look like it was sitting. I never found the ring itself.
That was only the first occurence though, things got weirder as I got older. Sometimes things would be somewhere I hadn't left them, sometimes I would find one of my books open when I hadn't been reading them. Little things like that, but then the shadows came. I don't even remember when they arrived or if I just hadn't noticed them before. But I remember talking to them, them talking back, and never being able to remember the conversations afterwards, just that I had enjoyed them and they were my friends. I sort of remember what they looked like, one was tall and thin with really long arms, the other shorter, rounder and had a weird shaped face (I called it Scooby, because it resembled a dog). They were around until the day I moved out, but as time went by we stopped talking, but they were always there.
But one more significant event happened before we moved, not to soon before it in fact. This is what I remember in the most detail, as it was the first thing to happen that actually scared me. It was a dream, and what happened when I woke up.
Now the beginning is blurry, but I remember walking down my dark street, most of the houses lights off. It was in first person, I was seeing it as if I was actually walking down the street. But the angle was odd, wrong, it was like I was much shorter then I actually was. And then I noticed that there was something wrong with the houses, they didn't quite look right. And then there was a man, sitting out on his porch. My street didn't have any houses with porches. And I walked up to him, but he didn't seem to notice. And then the part that woke me up, I started to claw his face into bloody ribbons I woke up as you would expect someone to, jolting upright in to my bed only to realise I had been dreaming. But there were no shadows. The full moon was out so there was plenty of light to look around my room, which was normal. But when I went to rub my eyes I felt something sticky, and looking down my arm was covered in blood.
Now I rushed to the bathroom, I have this weird thing where if it's too hot, or the air pressure suddenly changed, or otherwise just randomly my nose would bleed, this is what I thought had happened while I was sleeping. But when I washed it off, I realised it wasn't dry and flaked, nor was it around my nose at all. It was on my arms and around my mouth, no where else. I looked for cuts, I looked for scratches but I found none, nothing that would explain anything. And when I returned to my room to look at my bed, there was no blood anywhere. I eventually dozed off back to sleep, but from that night on I was wary.
I haven't been in that house for eight years, and nothing like what happened there has happened to me since.
So, does anyone have any ideas or answers about what happened in that house? Still don't really know.