I'm incorporating two ghost stories that my brother-in-law experienced. The stories takes place in Ireland, towards the end of the 60s and the early 70s.
The first story: My brother-in-law, who I'll name Sean used to be a poacher, that's someone who poaches onto private land and knock off a few Trout or a deer or two. This evening with his parents, Elieen and Thomas (not their real names) were seated before the razing fire, just having had trout (poached of course) for dinner, and he and his father were enjoying a decent dram of whiskey while Eileen was knitting, when suddenly in the room above, a sudden loud crash came like something real heavy just fell. Sean and Thomas were already running up the stairs where, in the parents' room, a heavy wardrobe was lying face down. The two men lifted it up and, to their horror, they saw three long, deep gashes across the doors as if something was trying to crawl its way in.
For the next three nights, the wardrobe would be lying face down. No explanation of what caused this but one night Elieen was woken up by the sound of crying, a woman weeping bitterly. So, she climbed out of the bed, walked across to where the weeping was coming, which was on the landing, and saw her recent deceased sister sitting weeping. Elieen walked over.
"Mary," she said, gently, "why aren't you resting?"
Mary replies, "I want me hairbrush, I want me hairbrush."
"And where is your hairbrush?"
"In the wardrobe."
The next morning, they took everything out and came across a pink hairbrush. Assuming that this was what Mary was after, they went to cemetery, and placed it on her grave. She never came back.
Story two: Sean had just met and married my sister, who's name I will keep, Meg in Australia in 1975 and returned home to Ireland where they still live to this day. It's 1977, Meg, Sean, along with my brother, 'Liam' (not his real name) lived in a cottage in Kerry. Each day they passed this old abandoned cottage that one day 'Liam's' curiosity overwhelmed him so he took a peep inside. He was surprised to find a box, an old beautifully carved box, big enough to store firewood in, which was what they needed. Inside the box was an old quilt, big enough to chuck over his bed So, he carried it, whistling, and showed to Sean and Meg. They were delighted and Meg asked for the quilt. Liam nodded as he was more delighted with the firebox. So he and Sean had a few beers, chatted about nothing then the three of them headed off to bed.
That night, Liam woke up from deep sleep. He said he had this creepy feeling of something in the room with him. He couldn't move as he saw this creeping shadow sliding onto the bed, creeping forward towards him. He couldn't scream or shout but just watched this black, drifting, creeping shadow getting nearer and nearer when, suddenly from the room next to him, he heard both Sean and Meg scream then... He woke up, sun shining in through the window. He'd forgotten the 'dream' and was making his breakfast when Sean and Meg came out, looking tired.
'What's up?' Liam asked as he buttered his toast.
'Did you have anything weird happened to you last night?' Asked Meg as she poured a cup of tea out into her cup.
Liam thought and suddenly remembered the black ink on his bed. He told them about the dream then Sean said: 'Our bed lifted in the air before it was dropped then something told us to return the box and quilt. Or we'll suffer.' So, they did what was 'requested' and guess what, they were left alone after that. The moral I assume is leave what's there, do not take for you have no idea what's attached to it.