My husband and I moved into a house not far from my parents, it was family owned. With me being able to see ghosts and other paranormal things, I always walked through a house before deciding if I wanted to live there. My walk-through was great, no sign of anything. That was a first for us.
We moved in. My husband was working a night shift job at the time and I was alone most of the day and night. I was up late unpacking the boxes that went into the kitchen. I had gotten to the plates, I washed them and put them in the cabinet and turned around to start on another box. The plates were back in the box. I stopped and thought, " could have sworn I had put those away." I just let it go, not thinking anything else about it. So I put them back into the cabinet and moved to my next task.
After I had gotten the kitchen put together and cleaned up the mess from cleaning and unpacking I was ready for bed. I crawled into the bed and almost instantly feel asleep. At 4 am I heard music coming from the attic. So I crawled out of the bed and walked to the stairs, opened the door and walked to the landing and peered over the banister, nothing. I looked for a music box, not one to be found, so brushing it off again. I went back to bed.
Nothing else happened for around a month or so. Which I was thankful for.
After about 3 months of us living there, things started to get worse. Now there was no denying it. Something was in our house. But I hadn't seen a ghost or spirit, nothing. Whatever it was it was something that didn't want to be seen.
The night my husband went back to work, I was sitting on the couch watching TV and a huge crash came from the attic. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen as I walked through to the stairs to the attic once again. I threw open the door and it slammed against the wall. I made to the the landing when I felt a hand push me a little, not enough to make me lose my balance, but just enough for me to stumble a little. But still I pushed myself up the rest of the stairs. I looked around for anything heavy or big enough to make a loud thud like I had heard. No boxes had fallen, everything was in its place. But I noticed a hole in back wall of the attic.
I went back downstairs and grabbed my husband's flashlight and made my way back to the hole in the wall. I shined the light, what I found chilled me to the bone. I had found a human skeleton. I screamed and ran back downstairs, called the police and then my husband at work.
The police had gotten to the house before my husband did, cause he had to wait for his replacement to get there before he could leave. I was sitting on the couch explaining to the sheriff what had happened. I went through it so many times that night it was unbelievable. One question that he had asked me was what had made me look in the hole in the wall. I said I didn't know, I was just looking for the source of the thump I had heard coming from the attic. By the time my husband had gotten home, the house was crawling with policemen. He came through the door as they were bringing out the skeleton.
A few weeks after, I finally heard from the police about the skeleton. It turned out to be a little boy the age of twelve, and the cause of death was determined to be murder. The crime lab had done a reconstruction on his skull and the face they had come up with matched a missing person report from about 30 years before I found him. His name was John.
So now I was faced with the question how did this little boy get in my house. By that time I was starting to see the ghosts that were in my house. A man and a women and a little boy. I was finally able to get them to talk to me. The little boy was John, the man was Oliver and the women was Lillie.
Oliver was just a mean man, also a distant family member and his wife was Lillie. She was attached to the old foot petal sewing machine in the attic. Lillie didn't bother me, in fact I got the feeling that she was protecting us from Oliver.
John was Oliver's son, he had cheated on his wife Lille. John had came to him and told him that he was his son. Oliver had killed his own son. John had no other living family besides myself and my mother and grandmother. We wanted to give him a proper resting place. So we did.
After his funeral, John had moved on, he was finally at peace.
The next morning after we took care of John, things were so much lighter in the house. I had no worries, or so I thought.
After my husband went to work, I had decided to clean the house back up. Once I was finished, I went to bed. I felt someone watching me. I thought it was Oliver but it wasn't. I made myself wake up to look. I saw a man standing my in bedroom doorway, but his hands and feet were hooves, and his head was that of a goat. Needless to say I didn't sleep anymore that night.
The next night, I was laying in bed alone, on my husband's side of the bed, and a knife had came flying through the air and landed on my pillow. My husband had came home early that night and he found me sitting outside on the porch shaking. He asked me what happened and I told him.
That was our last night in the house. Since I am a medium, I will always see them and feel and hear them, but I don't have to deal with a ghost trying to kill me.