About two years ago, my boyfriend and I broke up. We were broken up for several months. At the time, I thought it was permanent, and since we lived together, I needed to find a place to stay until I could afford my own place. My little sister offered to let me stay with her and her boyfriend for awhile. I took her up on her offer, having no idea what I was getting myself into.

They lived in a very small, two bedroom, two bathroom house. When you first walk in the door, you're in the living room. Immediately to your left is the guest bedroom that I stayed in, with a connecting bathroom that had two doors. One from the inside of the room, and the other that lead out into the laundry room and then into the kitchen. The bedroom my sister (we'll call her Stacy) and her boyfriend (Josh) shared was on the opposite side of the house. It also had it's own bathroom. There was also a room in the back of the house that used to be a back porch and had been converted into a sun room/ game room.

My first night in that house was very unsettling. I had visited the two of them many times before and had even slept over. However, I had never slept in that room.

I had a very restless feeling the whole night, and found myself unable to sleep. For some reason, I decided to lock the door that led from the bathroom into the kitchen, as well as my bedroom door that led out into the living room. To this day, I don't know why I decided to do that, it just seemed like something that needed to be done.
At the time, I chalked it up to just nerves. Over the next few weeks, I continued to do the same ritual of locking those two doors every night before i'd go to sleep. However, every morning, the door from the bathroom into the kitchen would be unlocked. My bedroom door would still be locked. I asked both Stacy, and Josh if they had unlocked it, and both said no. I believe them, because they would have no reason to go into that bathroom since it is all the way across the house, and they have a bathroom in their bedroom. Regardless, every morning, it would be unlocked.

The kitchen always made me feel uneasy. If no one was home, I would refuse to go in there by myself. I couldn't explain it. I'd never been afraid of anything like I was afraid of that kitchen. Once, about two months after i'd moved in, Stacy and I were sitting on the couch watching TV. It was around 11:30 at night, and we were the only two home. Her boyfriend was away on business. She had a small dog at the time, who all of a sudden just ran to the edge of the kitchen, sat down, and growled. He wouldn't go into the kitchen. We shrugged it off and kept watching our movie. About a minute later, we heard the timer on the toaster oven ding. My sister looked at me and said, "What are you cooking?" I just shook my head and said, nothing. We both got up and walked into the kitchen, and saw nothing. I opened up the toaster oven, and it was extremely warm inside as if someone had just cooked something. But nothing was in it. This happened numerous times, as well as the oven turning on by its self, the hand can opener being left on the counter, although none of us had used a hand can opener for some time. Sometimes the water in the sink would run by itself, and we would sometimes go to get our clothes out of the dryer, only to find that they had already been removed and folded into separate piles. After a while, I got used to the spirit and was no longer afraid. We started calling her gram, because we all had the feeling she was a little white haired old lady. She would never touch modern appliances like the microwave, but was constantly using the oven, stove, and toaster oven.
She would also bang pots and pans around quite a bit.

After I moved out, my sister only lived there for five more months before she and Josh broke up. Josh once called Stacy and told her that ever since she moved out, the woman is very angry. She throws pots and pans at him, and slams the cabinets. Maybe she's mad because Josh cheated on Stacy.
Regardless, I miss her.