Some people might think that this is a bit strange considering that ghosts scare me. But these are some of the things that have happened to me.
When I was about four years old I remember one Christmas. The whole family used to gather together at my grandparents house. This particular evening people were telling stories. My grandmother decided to tell everyone about Lillian, her sister who died quite young. She told us that she still lived in that house and of course all the men laughed and said ghosts don't exist. My nanna said that the way you could always tell she was around was the way she walked down the stairs. She would miss every other step and then jump the bottom three into the livingroom. Of course, nobody believed her and we all laughed. But suddenly the laughing stopped as we all heard THUMP...THUMP...THUMP down the stairs! The curtain at the bottom waved and then a big THUMP on the floor in the livingroom! The three grown men who had been sitting next to the stairs suddenly decided it was time to go into the kitchen.
Since then my nanna has always told me that Lillian has shown herself more often when I've been around...maybe she likes me.
Firstly my dad died when I was only five, so I never really knew him. However, one night when I was ten, just before going to bed. My mother on one of those rare occasions in my life that she has actually spoken about my father, was talking about him. She told me and my two brothers how proud he'd been to have had three sons and of all the things he was hoping we'd do. Being a ten year old, I never thought much of this and went to bed.
During the night I woke up. I really don't know why, it was just a feeling I guess. Upon opening my eyes and looking around the room, I saw a figure standing at the end of my bed. Just an ordinary looking man but with a huge smile on his face. He looked very pleased and happy. My first reaction was to hide and I pulled the covers over my head. Within seconds though I removed them only to find him gone. The bedroom door had remained closed and my brother was still sound asleep. Shaken, I tried to go back to sleep and eventually did. The following morning although feeling a little stupid, I mentioned it to my mom. And to my surprise, she had seen him also and told me that it had been my dad and that he had just came to make sure we were ok. And that he had been pleased with what he'd seen.
Some years later when staying at a relatives house, we were doing what most families at one time or another do...tell ghost stories. And my aunty had plenty to tell about the house we were in. It was a very old house but of course, being young men, we thought it all extremely funny.
While these stories were going on, we were playing tricks in an attempt to frighten one another. All I remember is sitting on a couch leaning back and listening to my aunty as she told us about a previous owner who had died in the house; when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Thinking it was somebody trying to frighten me, I just turned slowly to brush it off only to see a very faint outline of a hand and arm coming from the brick wall behind me. Nobody else saw it but I know it scared the dickens out of me. But funny thing is, I've always felt at peace in that house.
Me and my mum had just gone to Manchester (England) to stay with some relatives. One night we'd gone out for a drink a the local pub. As the night wore on and we had a few more drinks, tongues began to loosen and we started talking about relatives past. My mum eventually got around to a lady called Nanna Greg who was my great grandmother and how she was "from the old school" and very strict. She felt that children should be seen and not heard and never taken a drink in her life. We started talking about the situation with drugs in the world and how one or two of us had at one time experimented. At this point I went to the men's room. while in there, this extremely strong smell of violets filled the room and I looked around, wondering where on earth it came from. Violets not being the usual thing you smell in the gent's toilet. Not thinking too much of it, I went back to my family and just casually mentioned it. At which point the smell overwhelmed the table and my mum and aunty went white as a sheet. I looked at both of them and asked what was wrong. They explained that Nanna Greg always wore violets and my mum told me that she had said she would always look over me at which point we changed the subject and very soon left.
Never since that day have I talked about drugs in a serious manner but occasionally when I do talk about something that's maybe a little risky a faint smell of violets sometimes can be smelt and I always change the subject. If anyone wants to write me...please do