My story is pretty simple, although it might be a bit long-winded, so please bare with me.
In the summer of 2002 I moved into a little apartment in a small town in Massachusetts. With the exception of the previous few months (thanks to lease complications with my former landlord) I had been out of my parent's house for years, but I'd always had roommates. This was my first apartment by myself and I was really looking forward to being alone. It was a cozy first floor apartment with a private garden entrance at the rear of an old house that had been converted into four apartments and I loved it.
The first night that I moved in was wonderful. My friends had all gone home after beer and pizza and I was left alone. I had electricity and hot water, but no cable TV or phone for dial-up internet. I took a long hot shower and read a book until I felt sleepy and then proceeded to enjoy one of the best night's sleep I've ever had. Independence and quiet are wonderufl things!
The next night things started to change. As I said, this was an old house and as such, the closet door in my bedroom didn't close properly unless I lifted the doorknob and hip-checked it closed. Opening it was no picnic either. That night I again fell asleep with a sense of peace and tranquility. It didn't last. Sometime in the middle of the night the closet door slammed open as if someone had kicked it open from the inside, smacked into the wall and slammed shut again (I know this because it happened many more times over the next few weeks). As you can imagine, I was catapulted out of sleep in a panic! I sat upright staring at the closed closet door, terrified and too petrified to reach for the light in the dark. I probably sat like that for a good 15 minutes before I could move. Once I got the light turned on I left it on for the remainder of the night.
The closet door continued to do it's thing as the weeks went on accompanied by lights turning on in the middle of the night, doors locking on their own, the stereo doing whatever the hell it wanted, cabinet doors all being opened when I got home from work and other various things. I was not happy and I didn't know what to do.
One Friday night a friend came over for dinner and I told him all about my situation, admitting that I was scared and might need to move out already. He told me not to worry about it and that he would have a little chat with my ghost. I was a little uncomfortable with it, but he insisted. I poured myself a glass of wine and went outside to peer in through my bedroom window while my friend sat on the floor in front of my open closet and had what appeared to be a one-sided conversation. After about 15 minutes or so, he closed the closet door and signaled to me that he was finished. He wouldn't tell me what he said, but he assured me that my troubles would be over.
And they were. For five wonderfully peaceful years.
In the summer of 2007 I was working on my computer in my bedroom, listening to music and enjoying the warm breeze through the window when I heard a loud crash from the other end of the apartment. I ran into the kitchen to find a beautiful old ceramic serving platter that I had left on the counter smashed in the middle of the kitchen floor, about five feet from the counter. That was the end of the peace and quiet.
For the next ten months I endured an ever increasing amount of activity which even my friend couldn't do anything about. My boyfriend would no longer stay in my apartment alone for more than five minutes, and other friendss often said they felt uncomfortable there even with others around. In the spring of 2008 I moved to another small town in Massachusetts and haven't experienced anything at all to indicate my current home is haunted.
I hope you all enjoy my story, I apologize for being so long-winded.