Untitled Story No. 13

I had to move into my grandmothers house in Kansas City, Missouri to take care of her. She owns a beautiful brownstone house that is approximately 200 years old and my grandmother being the third owner of the house.

Since my grandmother was sick, she stayed downstairs and I got the entire second floor (including the attic) to myself. At first, I thought that this was the ideal situation, but soon found out otherwise.

Activity started out small. Doors would slam with me thinking that it was done by my grandmother and my grandmother thinking that it was done by me. Next came the footsteps up the stairs. The trouble was, there was no one behind the footsteps and they would only come up the stairs and never go down.

All of this I could chalk up to imagination until items started flying across the room. The ghost's favorite items to move were tea cups. Now, my grandmother (after seeing a tea cup flying through the air) denied the whole experience. She often told me that there was no such things as ghosts and could I be a quieter when shutting the doors upstairs. The main activity was mostly upstairs and in the unoccupied bedroom. Crashes were heard with the room being empty. No one in the family liked sleeping in that room and when people came visiting, they often slept downstairs. People who actually were brave enough to sleep there often ended up downstairs anyways.

I ended up moving out when my grandmother got well. I do not know if the activity still continues (somehow I get the feeling that it does).

Submitted by California, USA