I'm new to this site and have been really enjoying (and dreading) the stories I have been reading so I wanted to share my experiences with you guys. My name is Joe. I'm 24 years old living in eastern Pennsylvania. When my younger brother and I were kids (he is 3 years younger than me) we knew our house was haunted. As all kids did we bragged to our friends about the strange things that happened in our house. Each of us all trying to out do each other with a scarier tale. As kids it was all normal because we "knew" ghosts were real.
Now as an adult remembering those tales and experiences I find myself trying to explain some of them on a logical level... Those blurred with time are the easiest to come up with some kind of explanation but those that can't be explained really get me thinking.
The following is my recollection of some of those events. I remind myself I don't believe in ghosts... But then I tell myself to tell that to the eight year old me.
We were deathly afraid of our attic as kids. To bet one another to go up there at night for any amount of money was insanity. There was nothing traditionally scary about the room. It was extremely hot in the summer, very messy and we used it as storage (summer/winter clothes, old toys, etc).
The only thing really scary about it was an old cubby hole that was closed off by this very small door (about 3 feet tall). The door itself had a cheap flimsy latch that would never stay up on its own but would always fall down keeping the door locked from the outside. It led to a place of the attic we never used. When we would peak in there it was pitch black. It had an extremely angled ceiling and some kind of packing material was all over the floor. We NEVER went inside.
Like I said it wasn't a scary place but just being up there gave you an uneasy feeling. We would usually never go up to the attic by ourselves without someone going up there with us. If one of us ever braved to do it the one who did would always find themselves running/tripping down the awkwardly winding wooden old stairs five minutes later. The best way I could explain it is whenever you were up there you just got this weird feeling that something was about to happen. I'm not sure if it was just paranoia but it would build up until you couldn't take it anymore.
When we did go up there together we would do it out of boredom. We would dig through the boxes, play with old toys... Whatever. We felt braver together and most of the time nothing ever happened when we were together - most of the time.
One day in the spring we decided to go up and dig for some toys. We ended up finding Hungry Hungry Hippos and placed it on the floor in front of the cubby hole. We sat on either side of the game with my left and his right facing the door, and started to play. After a few minutes of playing we heard a bang and the door shook as if someone hit it from the other side. We froze at once and stared at the door... A few seconds passed and suddenly a series of three louder bangs on the door caused us to get up and dart out of the room tripping over each other as we raced down the stairs to find our parents. We tried to tell them what happened but they didn't believe us of course.
Another occurrence happened one night when I was doing homework in my room. When I was finished I remember walking to my parent's room that was just down the hall from my own. It wasn't too late but I was tired and went in there to lay down with them. The room was dark but someone was lying under the covers. I jumped on their bed and put my arm around what I thought was either my mom or dad.
I don't really remember why I got up to leave but shortly after that I did get up and made my way downstairs. Sitting in the kitchen were both my parents and my brother. I didn't mention anything because I was trying to figure out what had just happened. Later I told my brother and he believed me. We eventually did go back to my parent's room (we slept in there occasionally as children) and there was the bed nicely made.
One occurrence just recently resurfaced in my memory (it actually hit me as I read another story on this site... It was weird) and it is also very bizarre. I was a huge Ninja Turtles fan as a kid and collected everything Ninja Turtles. Well I had these sparkling stickers that if I remember correctly came with Ninja Turtles trading cards. There was a section to the right of my door to my room where I would stick them in nice rows and columns.
One night we all came home from my grandmothers (we went there after school everyday and this particular night my parents worked late). I ran to my room and as I walked by my stickers I was shocked to see most of them completely scratched up and in tatters with pieces of them scattered all over the floor. It looked as if someone took sharp claws and scratched at them furiously. I called my parents up and showed them what happened. They were puzzled too but dismissed it blaming it on my dog. Now... I can't completely dismiss this idea but the thing that bugs me is that we had a very very small dog at the time. And if my memory is correct most of the scratches were easily out of his reach. I live in the same room and I recently looked at that spot to back this up.
This memory disturbs me the most. One time my brother bribed me to clean his room for a dollar. I took the bribe and starting cleaning his room one night. While cleaning his room I put the strap of these giant yellow toy binoculars that my grandfather bought us around his door handle where we always kept them (it always made the loudest noise when opening and closing the door). Halfway through I took a break. I sat down on a chair about eight feet away from the door with my back towards it and started to play with those paddleball toys (the ones with a flat wooden racket with a red yellow ball attached with a rubber band).
All of a sudden I heard the door knob turn very quickly making the binoculars bounce against the door. I quickly turned around and looked. The door remained closed but the binoculars swayed a bit. A few seconds went by and I saw the doorknob quickly turn back and forth a few times making the binoculars bounce around violently. I darted out of the chair and no more than a second later I pulled the door open and no one was there. I freaked and ran downstairs as fast as I could. Again there were my parents and my brother sitting in the kitchen. Even though there was no chance someone could have ran down the stairs that quickly without me seeing or hearing them, they assured me they were in there the entire time.
Years later my parents met up with our old landlord who we had lost contact with. He visited our house one evening and he and my parents had some beers out back. As I was playing outside alone I caught something like "I never did tell you guys what happened in that attic did I?" At these words I started to edge closer still pretending to play so I could listen to the conversation.
According to our landlord, many years before we moved in, an old man owned our house. He lived in our house alone. He was also very frail and weak. One summer day he went into the attic and into the cubby hole to do some cleaning, leaving the door open behind him. As he did it's assumed the door slowly closed on him and that flimsy latch dropped locking him inside. Being very weak he was unable to break the door down and eventually died of heat in there. He was found many days later.
I just got out of college and we still live in the same house. Many things happened in that house when we were children. Like I said I can somehow logically explain some of them but the ones above leave me in the dark. Were these events just the imagination of a child or a cry for help from the ghost of that old man trapped behind that door?
The most ironic thing is that my brother relocated his room to the attic about two years ago...