This is my first story. First, let me tell you about me. I'm an Indonesian, and has been living in China for 4 years. When I came at March 2009, I stayed in the dormitory for foreign students, at Capital Normal University, Beijing.
Now, this dormitory, even though it was very good, clean, modern, etc, it also kept many ghosts roaming its rooms and corridors. I've had several experiences there. Now, to explain to you my ability; when I first came, I could only sense spirits, but I couldn't always see them, only when I was sick or hadn't slept for days my sense was getting sharper. When I came home to Indonesia at February 2010, my elder brother (not really siblings, sort of sworn brother of mine) who worked as a dukun (Indonesian term for... Hm... Medium? Shaman? Something like that) opened my third eye, and since then I can see spirits more clearly, though not so much since he opened it without my permission and I never train the ability: it tends to close overtime.
Next, to the story. The first semester in 2009, I settled on the seventh floor. This dormitory, ever floor, is shaped like a long corridor with two elevators, one kitchen, and one laundry room in every floor. The ends of the corridor each had a big window. My room, unfortunately, was situated right opposite of the laundry room. Now, this room always gave a bad vibe to those unlucky fellows who did not accustomed to washing clothes by hands, or too lazy to do it and prefer the using of machines.
Very often at night, we (I and one roommate) hear the banging sound of doors in front of our door, and when we peeked from the peeping hole, we saw no one. The door to laundry room was a double door that could never tightly shut, when we closed it, it always swayed a few times before it closed. Imagine our surprise when we heard such sound, waited for hours and nobody actually came out from the room. Once, we pulled up our courage and actually went to see inside the room, and there was nothing. The windows weren't opened either. The machines were empty; nobody was using them. We started to freak out and avoid using the laundry at night.
Once, my friend changed her bed position to facing the window. Since then, our bathroom door often opened and closed by itself, and sometimes at night when we were both already in bed, we heard the sound of water running and splashing, but when we moved, the sound vanished. It only happened again when we laid back our heads on the pillows. Later, we found out the cause was because my friend's bed, and we were told that a bed facing the window was a taboo. My friend changed it back, and nobody bothered us anymore.
The eighth floor also had several ghosts lurking. The elevator near the laundry room in the eighth floor often played us as it liked. We got inside, pushed the floor button, the door closed, then it opened again, we hit the button again, and the cycle repeated. It happened several times until one of us noticed that everytime we hit the floor button and the door closed, the floor button we'd hit will cancelled on its own, like somebody invisible was clicking it (you know some elevators can cancel their buttons by clicking it twice), and we were forced to run out from the elevator as soon as our feet could carry us.
Two of my friends were sharing room in the eighth floor, room 801. Once, they went on a vacation trip with several friends. My friend, call her Maggie (it's close to her real name), used to get online with her MSN Messenger every night on her laptop. She used Nokia handphone (this was a time when iPhone and Blackberry weren't popular in Indonesia) that couldn't connect to the internet. But every night we get online, and at 10PM her MSN got online. One of my friend even tried calling her, asking her if she already got home (since that time we didn't know anything) and how the vacation went. Only one answer: "Tired". My friend asked more but no answer came, and at 12PM it went offline. The next day it repeated, for seven consecutive nights, until Maggie herself came home. When we asked her, she told us she turned off her laptop and put it inside her drawer, and locked both the drawer and the door already. When she got back home, the laptop was still safe and sound inside her drawer with no sign of use. Until now we still didn't figure out how the ghost in her room gained the access to her MSN.
At the fifth floor, I had a close friend who stayed at 514. His next door, 515, also inhabited by two Indonesians, also our friends. The guy at 515 told us that at night he often heard the voice of a girl singing sadly; the voice was half singing and half moaning, and she was singing a Chinese old song, and the voice was so sad it creeped my friend out of his wits whenever the song began. His roommate also confirmed the story; apparently he was able to hear the voice also. When we casually inquired the cleaning girl whom my friend befriended (she was quite beautiful), she told us that the room 514 was haunted by a girl who was committing suicide from the window; and that she stayed under my friend's desk. But what made us wonder was why her voice was only heard by the next door?
At the sixth floor, I had a friend who lived at 601, that was the room in the end of the corridor, just next to the big window. Once, I stood there talking with some friends when suddenly a gust of cold wind blew between us (the window was closed), and I felt like something touched me. Felt like somebody breezed by and the swaying clothes touched my skin. Apparently, my friends felt that too. One of them could see these things clearly, and she told us that a girl in white had just walked through us. We already heard the story about a girl who committed suicide (again) from the window because she had abortion and was regretting it; but still we wondered whether or not it was her.
Again, at the eighth floor. This happened just last semester, around summer 2012, when I no longer lived there, but still have some friends who did. I once rode the elevator to the eighth floor (not the haunted one), and for some reasons it smelled like funeral home. Luckily I had a friend with me so it didn't really freaked me out. The corridor was empty, though usually lots of people were opening their doors so other friends could come and visit without having to knock, and crowds were always gathering at some doors. I knocked my friend's door, but he weren't there, though usually he always studied in his room at that hour. We called him and he said he was downstairs, at a friend's room. We descended the stairs and asked him why we moved there, and he said that a guy had just died upstairs; apparently from drinking beer too much. He saw the body being attended to by some hospital workers, covered by white sheets. At that moment, I really freaked out, especially remembering the funeral home smell in the elevator when actually no funeral flowers were brought in that elevator, this incident happened two days before, and the body was carried in that VERY elevator I rode.
The stories didn't stop here. Next, I'll write the tale of the Lady in Red in my neighbor's room.