I wanted to submit my story, mostly because it's not a story I can generally share with people as most people probably wouldn't believe me or would think I was exaggerating or maybe just delusional. To be honest, I've never been a big believer in paranormal stuff. Belief in ghosts definitely doesn't really fit in with the rest of my beliefs about the world. If I had grown up in a different house I doubt I would believe in ghosts at all. But in fact, I grew up in a haunted house. My family moved there when I was three (1973) and moved out when I was eleven. This is the address:
Old Sudbury Road, Wayland, MA
It was a very old house, the original structure was build in late 17th or early 18th century. The house's biggest claim to fame was that Lydia Maria Child lived out the final years of her life there. (She was the poet who wrote "over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go"). Over the years additional rooms were added to the house although I am not sure of the order or when they were added. Half of the house felt cold and extremely frightening to me (the living room, family room, front hall, and screen porch). The other half felt warm and comforting. Here is one memory I have that is quite vivid.
My brother and I were in the dining room watching tv. There was a door that we always kept open that led to the front hall. In a modern house such a door would probably seem out-of-place as openings from one common room to another are usually doorless, however, in this house there was a door between the two rooms. While we were watching TV this door (which was about ten feet away from us) suddenly opened then violently slammed closed, again opened then slammed closed. This happened about four or five times. Then, as if two invisible people were fighting, the door slammed back and forth very fast maybe for about 10 or 15 seconds. I'm not entirely sure how long this went on, it was 25 years ago and I just don't remember that detail. My brother and I watched this happen with interest and curiosity, then when the door closed a final time we turned to each other and said, "the ghost!" And we went back to watching TV.
What strikes me as interesting now, in retrospect, was our casual reaction to what had happened (if my memory is accurate). It makes me think that maybe that sort of thing occured even more frequently than my memory affords. My brother remembers this incident too but not as clearly as I do.
There were so many other incidents, but the one above is the one I remember most vividly.
In general, I felt comforted by the "presence" in our part of the house. The ghost (or whatever it was) felt like family. The other half of the house was really scary to me and my brother, sister and I generally avoided those rooms. I had some frightening experiences in some of those rooms but don't remember them well enough to go into detail here.