This experience goes back to when I was about 12-years of age, living back in my hometown of Liverpool, Merseyside. We had moved into a Council House in Fazakerley sometime around 1974. The house was fairly new, and to my knowledge only had only one previous occupant, who had left sometime before we took up occupancy.
The house was fairly unkempt when we moved in and it took a few weeks decorating it before it was habitable. I got a eerie feeling from this house the moment I walked into it and never liked the place at all. Anyway we had been living there some time, and I would usually go to sleep at night leaving the hall light on, and keeping my curtains closed in the bedroom, and window, due to the night noises. I would hear there like footsteps walking up the stairs and noises in the garden. It was summertime, and I went to bed in the usual fashion, leaving the hall light on and making sure my curtains and window was closed in my bedroom. Subsequently I fell asleep. I remember waking up in the early hours of the morning. It must have been about 2-3am when I woke up. To my utter shock my curtains were drawn back, window wide open and the net curtains were blowing gently in the summer night breeze. I could see the silhouettes of the houses at the back of the house and the light, which was broken and partly lit, from the police station also at the back of the house.
I managed to run into my Dads bedroom and wake him up, telling him that I thought that we had an intruder. He suggested I go back to bed, but I was so persistent that he came with me. He did. When I got back to my bedroom everything was as normal, curtains closed and window also closed. I was shattered, anxious and afraid. I managed to peep through the curtains, and there I could see the silhouetted houses, and broken light at the police station. That night I think I cried myself to sleep.
When I was chatting to our next door neighbor’s girl, she was telling me that the family before had a little boy who by accident fell from an open window at the back of the house, my bedroom. Whether it was a fatal accident I do not know. I never got around to discussing it any further. The house was never ‘right’.
I would even hear piano and harp music at night being played. My mother would tell me it was wind blowing in the plumbing. My Dad would account for the footsteps on the stairs as the house settling.
I always had the impression that I was being watched and never alone. I was a fairly sensitive child, but the room incident, was not as a result of a dream. I was wide awake and know exactly what I felt and saw.
Submitted by Brian Abraham
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