This story takes place in my Grandmother's old house in Fostoria, OH. Back in the late 70's early 80's my grandmother met Jack. She had gotten a divorce from my grandpa years before. Jack, from what I remember of him, was a great guy. He died in a work accident when I was still young. Zedda was Jack's mother and she lived, and died, in the house the story takes place in.
The layout for the house is really simple: As you walk in the front door you enter the living room. To the right is the downstairs bedroom and straight ahead is the kitchen. In the kitchen is the door to the bathroom and the door to the upstairs. The upstairs itself was just two bedrooms. To reach one you had to go through the other. The back yard wasn't in anyway "large" but it wasn't just a plot of grass either. It was surrounded by a chain link fence, and at the far back left corner (from the house) was a small shed that the lawn mower and gardening tools were kept in.
Now back to the story. I never met Zedda myself, or at least not that I remember. She died when I was very young in the downstairs bedroom. I think from cancer. I do know that her and my mother never got along.
After Jack died my grandma moved back to Ohio from Florida and took up residence in the old house. She used both upstairs bed rooms for storage, filling both rooms with accumulated nicknacks and boxes. After a few years she left the house and her belongings to take care of my great-uncle Dale.
During the time she was gone my brother, who is 9 years older than me, and his friend Kenny moved into the Fostoria house. Everyone in my family knows the house is haunted but it never seemed to be a big deal. Brett and Kenny had lived there for a couple months and noises of settling were common due to how old the house was. One night Brett came home to find Kenny sitting in his car with the engine running. Thinking That he locked himself out he knocked on the car window to wake Kenny up. Come to find out that Kenny had been home for hours and hadn't locked himself out. He had been watching TV in the living room when he heard thumps from upstairs. Thinking it was the house settling he shrugged it off. At least until he heard what he could only describe as "footsteps." Now as I said both rooms upstairs were packed full with grandma's debris. There was no room for someone to walk up there, never mind that Kenny was the only one home. He said he went upstairs to see if a raccoon or something had come in through a window.
At this point of his story Kenny stopped speaking and refuses to this day to go on. He also never set foot in the house again. Brett had to pack up his stuff and hand it to him through the door.
Fast forward a couple years....
Brett had moved out shortly after Kenny. My grandma was still looking after Dale. My mother and stepdad were getting a divorce. Grandma said we could stay in the house until mom had gotten back on her feet. I was 14 and had just started high school.
We cleared out the first of the rooms upstairs for my room while mom slept in the downstairs room. During the clearing we found the urn with Zedda's ashes. Of course I was disgusted so I put it as far into the other room as I could. At this time the far bedroom was packed full of stuff, floor to ceiling junk. The room was separated from my room by a door with one of those old hook and eye locks. Feeling uneasy with those ashes so close I of course locked it.
We had been there a few weeks when I noticed that the door was unlocked. Thinking mom had gone in there for something I just locked it again. I remember it was late, I was a night owl so of course I was up. I was trying my best to sleep because of school the next day when I heard a *thump* from the other room. I laid there for a few minutes and then I heard another one. For all purposes it sounded like someone walking. Being the brave 14 year old man I promptly covered my head with my blankets and lay there barely daring to breathe. As I lay there the sound of movement increased until it was on the other side of the dividing door. Now I was REALLY scared. I heard the door shake a little as though someone was pushing on it and found it locked. Now remember the lock was on MY SIDE. A few minutes went by and I was trying to gather the courage to peek when I heard the door open!! Freaking I burrowed down even further and began praying as I heard "it" walk by my bed and down the stairs. Somehow I fell asleep that night, don't ask me how, and the next day the door to the other room was closed but unlocked.
Now this became a regular thing throughout our stay there. I didn't tell my mom because I knew she'd never believe me. I was 14 remember.
I tried everything from prayers to putting some old crucifix I found over the door to no avail. I'd have nightmares of waking up to a half rotten apparition floating over me. It never happened but it still sends shivers over me thinking of it. The worst were the nights I'd go to sleep and wake up to that stupid door being unlocked. Being awake when it happened was one thing, but who knows what the ghost did while I was asleep?
Well after a while we moved out and into another place. Thankfully the ghost didn't follow. But years later when I was 18 I moved back into that house with my brother Brett. The only condition was I got the DOWNSTAIRS room;)
After a couple months with no problems I was walking outside smoking in the backyard. As I came to the small shed I heard something like a woman humming lightly. Curious I opened the shed door but no one was there. As I opened the door the humming stopped in mid note. Later that night I told my brother about it and he gave me a wierd look. It seems that the only reason he took the upstairs was because he had put the urn in the shed!
Thanks for taking the time to read this. I just wanted to say in closing that all the events in this story are completely, utterly, and unquestionably true.
Have a nice night!!
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