11 September 2018 | Your Stories
A boy is sent to stay with his aunt—and discovers that her house is haunted. It sounds like fiction—but this is a real account from John. Read it and see what you think.
Teaching drivers for a living can expose you to a lot of strange incidents. It can be terrifying to be propelled in front of other cars at junctions, but I’ve never been as terrified as I was when I spent a week living at my aunt’s house when I was a child. My aunt, bless her, lived in Middlesbrough and back in the 50’s I would be sent by my parents to stay with her. She was a lovely person—but there was definitely something wrong with her house. I never wanted to stay there but off my parents would send me, and I’d tough it out.
Now the bedroom I used to sleep in was at the back of the house. It was a box room more than anything. I remember as a child I would lie in bed in the middle of the night, perfectly still, and watch shadows moving around the room. Nothing too obvious but you’d see movement out of the corner of your eye. I also experienced the shape of a man standing in the doorway. I heard footsteps downstairs, I heard whispers. The whispers were rare but every now and again you could almost make our words. My aunt, however, seemed to live oblivious to all these strange goings on.
Now nothing ever happened to be physically. But as I grew up I started to learn more about my aunt. She was an ardent spiritualist. She would communicate with the dead in that little house in Middlesbrough. My mother told me years later that they thought it was harmless fun and didn’t really believe in it. They’d stayed in that house plenty of times and had never experienced anything strange. When I told my mother about the shadows, shapes and manifestation she didn’t believe me. “It’s all in the mind,” she said.
That said, I would advise anyone out there to be cautious. It may seem like a little bit of fun to use a board and try to communicate with spirits—but there are repercussions. I was a young boy and I could see the end result of my aunts dabbling. It wasn’t dangerous—but what if it had been? What if the spirits had been dangerous?
John Hugh
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