My memory has been jogged by a story I have just read on YGS. I will recount to you a tale that my father told me many years ago.
The period was circa 1930, the place was Kimberley, South Africa.
Doug (my dad) had an Afrikaans friend and neighbour, Friederike (Frikkie for short). Frikkie had heard about a haunted house situated on a farm some miles outside of Kimberley and was eager to see it for himself. He eventually convinced Doug to accompany him on his excursion.
Early one Saturday morning, on borrowed bikes, they cycled out to the farm. They found the location easily enough and discovered the farmhouse almost surrounded by a copse of tall trees, which had surely been planted as a windbreak. The house was starting to fall into a state of disrepair from long disuse. The surrounding area seemed devoid of life and even the wind seemed to die down to a whisper as they approached. They cautiously wheeled their bikes into the overgrown front yard, leaning them against the wall of the house.
The curious pair circled the house trying to peer into windows, but to their consternation, found that there were drapes hanging in the way. As they approached the back of the house, they noticed that the small door to the coke-house hung open and the windmill supplying the water for cooling was broken. Frikkie, being the bolder of the two, tried the back door. To his amazement, it opened at his touch. They stepped into the dusty kitchen, finding it still fully furnished, as was the rest of the house.
The story behind this deserted house goes as follows. A brother and sister had inherited the house/farm when their parents had died. Neither had married, so they continued living in the house together. In time, the young woman discovered that she was pregnant - by her brother. Overcome by guilt and remorse, they made a pact to end their lives. The brother shot his sister, and then turned the gun on himself. Their spirits were said to roam the house, searching for peace.
Doug was hesitant to explore the house as he said the atmosphere was heavy and made his hair stand on end. Frikkie obviously had no such qualms and went around picking up this, and opening that. Doug stood nervously by as Frikkie pulled open a sideboard drawer, discovering a beautifully carved wooden box. Inside the box nestled a pair of really old dueling pistols. Fascinated, Frikkie picked one up, carefully examining it.
For some inexplicable reason, the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees and both the boys felt a chill run down their spines.
Suddenly Frikkie's head jerked up and the blood drained from his face. He dropped the pistol back into its box with a look of horror on his face. He slammed the drawer shut with lightening speed. The next thing Doug knew, Frikkie was making for the back door, post haste. Confused, Doug hurried to follow his friend.
It was only on the hasty pedal back home that Frikkie divulged what had happened. Frikkie swore by all that was holy, that when he handled the pistol an apparition of a man had appeared to him, telling him to leave "their" stuff alone and get out of "their" house. Doug had seen no such thing, but he wasn't about to question Frikkie. The look on Frikkie's face was enough to convince him that they had overstayed their welcome.