This story is from my earliest experiences in the house I grew up in, most of which did not seem out of the ordinary until I got older and thought back to them.
First let me explain some things regarding my childhood home. (The details are a little choppy regarding the location's history but I intend to do proper research when I can.)
I was maybe 3 years old when we moved here. The house itself was quite spacious: five bedrooms, a ridiculously big kitchen and dining room, plus a long living room that was added on in later years. The living room had high slanted ceilings with dark wooden beams and a somewhat new artificial fireplace with a switch to "ignite" the pretend fire. Overall the house had very little remodeling done to it. It was well over 100 years old so it was a bit worn down.
Prior to my family moving there, an old widower owned the house. Before that it was owned by the people who ran the church that once stood next door. The old brick church was destroyed by a tornado. (While we played in our yard we sometimes found bricks, old silverware, etc in the ground.) Also, surrounding the house are three separate graveyards. One directly across the road and another on the other side of our large driveway. The one that really creeped me out was the private overgrown one that was connected to our backyard by a small wooded area. The stones were very old, crumbling and some knocked over. I'll talk more about the area outside in another story. Now I'll describe my early on experiences.
I felt/heard the most things upstairs in my bedroom and my mom's room. When I was about 5 or 6 my older sister moved into her own room down the hall. I remember after that trying to sleep in my room at night but kept waking up to what sounded like people working in the kitchen. I didn't stop to consider the fact everyone was upstairs in bed.
One night it got so annoying I climbed in bed with my mom where the sound didn't reach. We talked for awhile then got snuggled up to sleep. I'm almost asleep when I feel a strange presence, like someone was right by the bed. The air seemed to be thicker and I thought I was being watched. I tell my mom this and that I'm scared. She holds onto me saying there's nothing there, I'm safe. I felt at peace after that and went right to sleep.
Years later I'm talking to my mom about that night and she admits to feeling something too. She stayed awake holding me while she prayed. I'm thankful she didn't share that she was afraid too.
Eventually I no longer woke up to noises in the night and even managed to sleep in my room. While there was still unexplainable sounds from time to time, it no longer disturbed my sleep.
I'm going to wrap this story up but I will eventually add more to tell of my other experiences growing up in that house. I have lots of different information in my head I struggled keeping to the subject.
Thank you for reading my first story! I'd love to hear your input. Until then best of wishes to you all. -Midnight_Flower
A residual haunting is like a "playback" of past-events. Often, the church does a lot of charity work which includes making food, sandwiches etc for the homeless or shelters, or even, preparing barbecues and lunches for the people who attend the church. You did not specify how often you heard the people in the kitchen, though. If it was regularly, on a specific night or at a certain time every night, it could have been a residual haunting.