My great grandfather was a great man. He was the happiest person I ever met, he loved his family more than anything, valued the worth of $1, was a wonderful artist, and he always put his whole heart into everything he took on. Which I guess is why he felt the need to build his home from the ground up. I wish I could tell you what year it was built, but I honestly have no clue. It was in our family for some time though.
My grandmother and her sisters grew up there, as did my mother, and my brothers and I lived there for the majority of our childhood. It was a beautiful home and a beautiful area. He picked a very historic part of Denver to build the home as well. About two houses down from Molly Browns house actually. (which really has nothing to do with the story. I just thought it was interesting.)
My earliest memories of the home go back to about age 5 or 6. We would visit while my great grandparents were still there. It would always smell like an interesting mixture of cookies and perfume from my great grandmother and my great grandfather would be sitting in his chair sketching a pastel drawing with his fingers stained 10 different shades of blue or red. He would always have the radio tuned to the jazz station and would get up and hum to the song while trying to dance with my great grandmother who would giggle and say "Oh Joe, stop..." and sit back down. I seem to be rambling though, I'll get to the story.
I've spoken with my grandmother who had lived there most of her life and her being a big skeptic says she never experienced anything there. Which makes sense considering the house was built from the ground up by my grandfather. Though, when my mother was young that wasn't the case. When she was about 4 she found an "imaginary" friend named Tabby, who according to my mother was the cause of all the weird things going on. She slept upstairs in a large room with her cousin. They shared a bathroom together and whenever my mother would get up in the morning to go to the bathroom, the carpet (don't ask me why my grandfather carpeted a bathroom. I don't know.) would be completely soaked. She would go ask Theresa (her cousin) what she did, to find that she was still asleep and claimed to have not gotten up at all.
This went on for years, I'm really not sure if it ever stopped. Though, this could be explained as a simple plumbing problem (perhaps from putting carpet in a bathroom?) She also says she would hear foot steps going up and then back down the stairs late at night when everyone was asleep. They would go up and it would be quiet for a few minutes, and then they would go back down. Just once, almost the same time every night.
The one memory that sticks out in her head the most was one day after school she had a friend over and quickly ran up the stairs just to drop off her school books. She looked at her bed and froze seeing, on the bed and pillow a perfect indentation of a small body and a head lying on her bed. She freaked out and leapt down the stairs and slept on Theresa's side of the room after that. Shortly after my grandparents and mother moved out to California due to my grandfathers work.
Sadly, my great grandfather passed away when I was very young and my great grandmother was taken to a nursing home. My mother, father, brothers and I moved into their home. My brothers took the room upstairs where my mom and her cousin used to sleep, and I was alone downstairs where my great grandmother used to sleep. I distinctly remember one night while having a hard time sleeping I heard what sounded like humming coming from the living room. I went out to check, but nothing was there.
This happened a few other times, usually late at night, usually in the living room, sometimes outside. One of my great grandfathers favorite possessions was this terrible knit tapestry of an owl. It was hideous, he loved it. No one else wanted it, so when he passed we just left it in the house in a closet.
One day when we returned home, this ugly thing was hanging on the door knob of the closet, displayed in the exact place my great grandfather always had it. My mom was convinced it was Grandpa Joe, but my dad refused to believe it. The tapestry went to the basement closet.
As I got older odd things happened less and less. That, or I just didn't pay much attention anymore. Only a few other things stick out.
On weekends I had a habit of trying to stay up as late as possible and falling asleep on the couch. Usually my father would wake up and come down and make me go to my room. This happened one weekend, as usual. I went to bed and thought nothing of it.
The next morning I was talking to my mom, casually mentioned this, and she looked at me like I was insane. I then realized that earlier in the evening the night before my brothers and dad had gone camping for the weekend. It was a distinct male voice that I heard telling me to go to bed. At this point my mom was so used to it she just said, "Oh, it was grandpa Joe..."
As I grew older I blossomed into my artistic skills. I was working on a project for art class and getting incredibly irritated that it wasn't turning out the way I wanted it. In a fit of frustration I threw the drawing into the garbage and left the house to go to a friends house.
A few hours later when I returned home there was the drawing, sitting right in the center of my bed. No one else had been home to move it, at least that I'm aware of. My mother of course says this was my great grandfather, the artist telling me not to give up.
Shortly after this, sadly, my great grandmother passed away in the nursing home. It was a week or so later that we began smelling that cookie/perfume mixture in the house. It would move from room to room usually going back to my room, but was always very prominent when you walked in the door.
The last incident I recall was on Christmas. It became a tradition in my home for my parents to turn Christmas music on Christmas Eve and leave it playing all night and into Christmas Day. This particular Christmas we woke up and instead of Christmas music playing, it was the old time type jazz that my great grandfather listened to all the time. The tuner on the radio was set to the same station it was left on, which was always just Christmas music every year. We couldn't figure out why the station would just change their format all of the sudden. After about half an hour or so, it changed back to the standard Christmas format.
After that we all grew up a little, and my parents started going through a separation which inevitably ended up in them selling the house. There was a lot of fighting going on in the house, and I suspect if my great grandparents were there the fighting made them very uncomfortable, so they may have left.
We never had another encounter after that. After the incidents my mom became fascinated with the paranormal and visited a psychic one day. The psychic described her "imaginary" friend Tabby perfectly and even knew her name. Could it be that some of the things we thought were my great grandfather were really Tabby? And the things that happened before his death, like the indentation of a body of a child on my mom's bed, were those Tabby? My mom also says quite often she has incredibly vivid dreams of the house. She can actually feel the cold hard wood of the stairs on her feet. She's even speculated that maybe she is haunting the people currently living there because of how real her dreams feel.
Is it possible that some other little girl in the home is hearing footsteps up and down the stairs late at night? Is it possible that those feet belong to my mother who is just dreaming and crossed some sort of astral plane or something? My mother certainly thinks that's the case. And if that is true, then, in retrospect, could that have been the situation the first time around? When we were living in the home and experiencing bizarre things. I have no idea about these things
Does anyone know if this could actually happen?