For fifteen years, our home has been a witness to strange occurrences. One day, while taking a bath with the bathroom door ajar, a chilling sight caught my eye – a dark shadow in the hallway. As night descends, our TV switches channels and turns on spontaneously. Objects shift seemingly on their own, a hairbrush falling from the coffee table without explanation.
The unease deepens. The feeling of being watched has driven me to avoid staying downstairs alone. During a recent bout of cleaning, a fleeting vision of a lady’s shadow danced at the corner of my eye, vanishing upon closer inspection. Visitors share their reservations about staying over, while my three pet birds grow restless at night, seemingly perceiving unseen presences. The air echoes with whispered conversations and calls of my name.
A distinct incident lingers—a wispy form, almost like smoke, drifting down the stairs before disappearing. And before my brother moved out, he recounted a chilling experience: an old-fashioned, shadowy figure of a boy staring at him from his bed.
Our home carries secrets of the past, haunting us with its spectral presence, weaving a tapestry of enigmatic happenings that defy explanation.