Like many of you, I grew up in a Victorian-era house which, like many of you, came with it's own resident spirit. My father, a big non-believer, was told about the "lady" who was there when we first moved in. He immediately pooh-poohed it as a bunch of hogwash. I didn't find out about this conversation until I was 14 - when the attic light was on.
It was Christmastime of 1974. My brother had just gotten out of boot camp, and was coming home for the holiday. We were all excited to see him, and hear his stories. My dad had a friend who had just gotten a beautiful mobile home, and my dad asked if he could drive it out to pick up my brother. To show off? I don't know - but I do know he was really happy his boy was coming home.
So, it was my dad, my stepmom, my little brother (he was 12) and I. My sister had to work late that night, so she couldn't go. Anyway, his flight came in at like 10 pm, so we didn't get home until about 11:30 pm. As we pulled up out front, my dad said he'd drop us off, and then return the RV. We all got out and he drove away, saying something about a loaf of bread.
When we got out, my stepmom looked up at the front of the house and saw the attic light on. She thought my sister went up looking for wrapping supplies and forgot to turn it off. I was sent upstairs to tell her to go turn it off.
I went into our room, and it was dark. I thought she was wrapping Christmas gifts, so that surprised me. I gently woke her up, saying "Mom says to go turn off the attic light. You left it on." Then she said something that terrified me: "I never went up there. I was tired when I came home, and I went straight to bed."
I don't think I was breathing as I made my way upstairs, pausing at the attic door to hear footsteps walking around up there. Someone has broken into the house! Man, I took the steps 3 at a time to get downstairs. When I came into the kitchen where my stepmom and brothers were, they later said I was as white as a sheet. No kidding! I could barely get out the words, "She never went up there," and we all looked at each other with true fear.
Now, this is where I was ready to leave the house. But NOOOOOOO, we had to go upstairs and check it out. Great. My brother felt like he could handle it, being a "man" now. So we went up into the upstairs hall, and stood there in the dark listening. We could all hear the footsteps walking around. It sounded like someone in a pair of heels, not flat shoes. The footsteps went across the attic, and then started coming down the stairs. About halfway down those attic stairs, there is a bare light bulb and a chain hanging down. That was the only light up there. Anyway, when the footsteps started coming down the stairs, we could hear someone pull that chain, and the light went off. You could see it under the door to the attic. Then the footsteps STOPPED. We waited and waited, and no sound. I looked to my right, and saw older brother holding my dad's double-barrel shotgun that he kept under the bed for "emergencies." Well, I'd say someone walking around in your attic is an emergency! We stood there in the dark, terrified. All of a sudden, my dad comes in the house and is like "Where is everybody?" He comes upstairs, turning on lights the whole way, and sees us standing there, with our eyes so big it hurt when he turned on the light. He flipped when he saw my brother standing there with the shotgun,
I'll tell ya. That's when I noticed he was still holding that loaf of bread he picked up at the store on his way home. He thrust the bread at me, snatched the attic door open, and went up. My dad is 6'4", was raised in an orphanage, and isn't afraid of anything. We heard him up there walking around, and we were half expecting him to find someone up there. Well, he came down, and he was exasperated with us. There's nobody up there!" he said, looking at us all as if we had lost our minds.
I never experienced an attic incident after that, but that house was soooooo haunted.
I'll post another story soon. Thank you for reading, and for your feedback!
Oh, and I put the bread away.