This is the continuation of my first story. If you have not read my first story please do, if of course you feel inclined to do so. It might put things more into perspective.
Fortunately, as explained in my previous post, by this time I had stopped pulling out my eyebrows but my fear levels remained more or less constant.
By this time my grandparents had moved into the house with us and my two older sisters (half sisters) had already left home and married. At the age of 12, after I had completed primary school, I was sent to a Catholic boarding school (convent) in a nearby town. I never witnessed anything paranormal at this school but make no mistake, they were waiting for me at home during the school holidays and the occasional weekend breaks.
What is strange is that during all this time nobody heard or saw the things that I heard and saw. My older sister "R" (six years my senior and my full biological sister) did eventually admit that she used to get "feelings" and that the cord of her bedside lamp would knock against her headboard. Needless to say, after the disastrous night that I spent in her bedroom (as explained in previous post), I never spent another night in that room and only entered it during the day if I had to.
So the poltergeist activity continued. The throwing around of cutlery and crockery in the kitchen, the moving of furniture etc which only I heard. I must add here that when my grandparents moved into the house the dining room became their bedroom. The lounge was large enough to accommodate the dining room furniture and the kitchen was big, with a large kitchen table, where we took most of our meals. My grandfather was a diabetic and had developed gangrene, which eventually cost him a leg and he could not manage constantly having to move up and down the stairs. The reason I am mentioning this is because their bedroom was right next to the kitchen. I could never understand how you could even attempt to sleep there without hearing that racket! I also could not understand how R could sleep in her bedroom leading onto the balcony without hearing the furniture there being moved around, let alone being visited by what I considered to be a "devil"! It quite simply did not occur to me that not everybody was open to these things.
My grandfather passed away and my grandmother became ill and senile. I was at boarding school when my grandmother's health really started deteriorating. My mom did not want to leave her downstairs on her own at night in case she decided to get out of bed and there was a possibility that she might injure herself. My mother and R used to take turns spending the night with her in her room. When I came home for the holidays (I think it was over Easter) I volunteered to sleep with Granny for a few nights. The first night I spent in her room I was awoken by her voice. I looked up and standing between the two beds was the figure of a woman. It was not a full apparition but slightly hazy. She had her hair up and wore a long dress. Of course I was shocked. I asked Granny who she was talking to and the woman disappeared. The mumbled reply I got was that it was her mother and that I had chased her away, or something to that effect. My mother also admitted to me that my grandmother had told her that her mother (my grandmother's mother) visited her at night. Shortly afterwards my grandmother passed away.
That was the last apparition I saw in that house, as far as I am aware. I suspected that I saw things out the corner of my eye at times but that could very well have been a trick of the light. The poltergeist activity however escalated. At times the lights in the house would switch on and off but only when I was there alone. Why on earth does that happen? Do they not want the other human residents to know what they get up to!?
One late afternoon/early evening over a weekend two of R's friends dropped by to visit her. She was out and they sat in the lounge and chatted to my mom and I. The next thing I heard a very loud bang emanating from R's bedroom, which was directly above the lounge. It sounded like a cupboard falling over. I almost jumped out of my skin. The friends and my mom looked at me as though I'd turned into something from outer space. I said to them "don't tell me you did not hear that". Well they had not. The two friends accompanied me upstairs and nothing was out of place. I must also mention that we did not have carpeting. The floors were all wood with scattered rugs, so nothing to dull the noise.
After my father's death I used to hear his footsteps walking from R's bedroom (which used to be the master bedroom when he was alive) to the bathroom. This was definitely my father, I knew the sound of his footsteps. Only years later did my mom admit that she also heard it. She had been in denial for so many years that I think she simply did not want to add fuel to the fire.
This is on a lighter note. Well it was not funny to begin with but we learned to live with it - all of us, even my mother. The mirror in the bathroom was on a chain above the washbasin. This mirror would sway back and forth and make a "zing" noise. Fortunately everybody witnessed this so I didn't feel so alone on that score!
The humour comes in here: R had a friend who lived across the road from us in a tiny flat (apartment) with her mother. I do not know what their living circumstances were in the flat but she had a boyfriend who would go and visit her over the weekends and he slept there. For some reason every Saturday afternoon he used to come and take a bath at our house. I will never forget this as long as I live. I was upstairs, doing whatever I might have been doing. Next thing I heard this loud gasp and the following thing the bathroom door flew open and the boyfriend came rushing out with only his towel wrapped around him, clothes clutched to his chest. He ignored me completely and went charging down the stairs. My mother saw him on his rush to the front door and asked him what had happened. He said to her in Afrikaans: "Thank you for allowing me to use your bathroom but I'll never set foot in this house again, it's haunted!" The mirror had done its thing while he was having a shave. We had a good laugh about that one for years! I suppose you would have had to have been there and known the person to appreciate the humour!
Well our stay in that house came to an end when I was 14 years old. That is a long story and nothing whatsoever to do with the ghosts. Strangely enough, I still have fond memories of the house because despite everything, it was home and even though I would not wish my ghostly experiences there on anybody, everything in my life was not just doom and gloom.
I promised in my previous post that this one would be shorter but unfortunately I don't think it is. Sorry about that!
Would love to read your comments.