When I was in my teenage years my parents moved to a new home just outside of the border between England and Wales. It seemed like it had been unoccupied for a number of years when I first saw it. We moved from our old house because it was too small. This new house however, was massive. The woods were next to this house, and there was a large shed outside, this house was in the middle of nowhere, no neighbors. However there was a small town 5 miles down the road.
During the first night, I woke up about 5 times if not more. I was overwhelmed by this feeling of dread, death almost. I heard strange things, heavy footsteps and silent moaning sounds. The next morning my mother was horrified to see that the pictures on the wall that she hung up on the first day, had been turned upside down. I asked her if she heard anything the night before, but she didn't. During the second day we finished unpacking our belongings, but some things started to go missing. This house had a basement and we'd always find the missing belongings down there.
On the third day in the house, activity started escalating. We heard load moaning sounds and heavy footsteps coming from the basement. We saw things from the corner of our eyes, black smog flying past like the speed of light, different times we would see different shapes of this smog, but different shapes every time. During that night nothing happened and I finally got a good night's sleep.
On the fourth day we went to the town to gather information on our new home in the local library. We asked the librarian if she had any books on our home, she looked at us dazed and asked "You live in Wythtorn farm?" we replied with a yes and she told us that we wouldn't find anything on it in the library, but in fact she had information herself for us. She told us that there was a farmer that lived there during the 19th century, he was married and had a son. They were a normal family, until his son died in an accident. When she told us that the farmer's son died after bleeding to death when he was caught in his father's bear trap.
2 years later, after putting up with this ghost we finally moved out. The moans and footsteps were louder than ever. Was this the ghost of a farmer that lost his son, and can't rest because it was his fault? It seems to me that he still can't forgive himself we always heard moaning noises. What do you think?