Renting A Haunted Apartment

This house is always occupied, and always cared for. It started in November, 1994. When my husband decided we would move into a triplex on the beach and rent out the other two apartments. We took the smallest apartment that needed more work than the rest. That way we could finish the work and not loose any income. For three years we worked on that apartment. The worst times were when I would use cast iron. My first meal was to be pot roast in a cast iron skillet. I cut the carrots and potatoes, put all the stuff in the pot and set it on the stove (electric stove 220w) I turned it on and turned around to get something out of the refrigerator. I heard a thump behind me and felt the wet. The pot with all the meat and carrots and celery and onions and potatoes, had some how gotten from the stove top to the door, than slambed its self onto the floor. Now that is a distance, this is a long narrow room. The meal was not disturbed it was still in the pot sitting upright. I told my husband and he just brushed it off. After that the lights kept going out, but the next day they would be fine (this is only in the kitchen). I assumed it was just a short, so I replaced the lights. When I opened up the old lights the wires were disconnected. Well I found my short. I thought. The new lights began to do the same thing. I opened them up, and the wires were discounted. I fixed it. The next day. It happened again. This was daily till one day it didn't happen. I started paying attention to what was going on during the days when it did or didn't happen. On the days it did happen someone had either used cast iron in the kitchen or my husband had spent time cussing at something in the kitchen. I made him stop cussing in the kitchen. Not stop cussing but stop cussing in the kitchen. He didn't like it at all, but he would go into the bed room or living room to do it. To show his disapproval he would cuss like no sailor could. When this worked I was afraid it might be him as the source.

One night wile he was gone I went into the kitchen. I sat back and relaxed, I softly started using profanity. No anger or emotion, just words. The lights began to flicker and I started feeling something pushing me. Okay so now I know its not my husband.

Submitted by Miriam Melluso, Florida, USA