Now this took place some time ago so I wasn't present to witness it, more likely that I'm glad I wasn't there to witness it. So on Saturday night my aunty and I were at her house, having a few drinks and telling stories etc. She had mentioned a story and it involved the very small rural village of Adavoyle, my Grandads birthplace as well as family home.
For whatever reason my grandparents house had to be left vacant for 2 weeks so they had to stay in mobile homes which were basically static trailers, they didn't want to so the only option was to stay in Adavoyle to which the mood quickly changed and the mobile homes didn't seem too bad.
I had asked why and this is where the story truly begins. My family has been dropping like flies, now you may say "That's a morbid statement." But it's true, not a year goes by where a distant relation kicks the bucket but that's a different story. In my Grandad's Birth home a family member died and he was laid out upon the Kitchen table as that's what they did back then, blood was discarded into the pig pen and ever since that the house was known to be unlucky.
My Grandad and his two brothers were left the house in a will, it contained a small farm yard out in the backyard which then stretched out into a massive field with a single fairy tree in the middle. Some time after the funeral they were in the field when my Grandad spotted someone...
"Whos that by the tree?" He said, the other two looked on and couldn't see anyone. But no sooner had he said that within 5 seconds this... Thing was sprinting towards them. A massive field that not even a fully grown healthy man could descend as fast as it did. All three men turned and bolted for the gate, desperate to get out to the point where one was willing to sacrifice the other.
When they were out of the field they turned to look at the creature chasing them and it had vanished. They gave it the name "The Rubber Man" as it practically bounced down the field towards them.
TO THIS DAY my Grandad refuses to talk about it much, he will repeat the question, nervously laugh and brush it off only to talk about something else, but I'm not finished with this story just yet.
One of the Brothers (We'll call him Dave) would stay there now and again, but only if there was someone else there as banging could be heard on the walls and doors slam to the point where he was being questioned by angry neighbours. He once even cried at the thought of sleeping alone in the house, a grown, fit and healthy man.
Work needed to be done on the house as parts were starting to crack. So instead of getting professionals my Grandad decided to do it for free. He had to knock down a wall and when he did he was presented with a door. As soon as Dave heard of this his only response was "Don't open the door." When asked why he again responded "I said don't open the f###ing door." And so it wasn't opened, simply replastered up.
I must be insane writing this at 2:20 in the morning when I start college tomorrow... Anyway, hope you enjoyed the family story.