In November of 1984, my family moved into a new and larger home. I was 9 at the time. From day one there were strange things that happened in that house. My grandfather's rocking chair would rock on its own, doors slamming when there was no one there and no breeze in the house, the TV turned off and on by itself as well as changed channels.
For the first 15 years or so my parents always had an excuse for everything that happened. "There is a draft somewhere" "The batteries need to be changed in the remote". I knew that there was "Something" or "Someone" else in the house with us but it never scared me. My parents finally started to believe me after one incident.
My Dad had just bought a new horse and she had just arrived at the barn here in Canada from Texas. The whole family spent the evening getting to know her. None of us could agree on a name for her though and we stayed up until 1am discussing it. We finally decided to all sleep on it and went to bed.
Not 30 minutes later there was a loud crash in the living room. Everyone bolted out of their bedrooms and rushed downstairs. There, face down on the living room floor was the huge family portrait that hung over the mantle. The nail it hung on was still firmly in the brick. There was no way this could have just fallen! As we are standing there perplexed my Mom looks and everyone and says "Lexie. We need to name her Lexie". I truly believe that our invisible resident wanted to be in on the naming because to this day my Mom couldn't tell you where the name came from.
Shortly after that my Grandfather (Dad's Dad) appeared to both my father and little sister. My Dad who was a HUGE skeptic was now a believer. After that, the activity increased in the house. In the middle of the night I would hear running up and down the stairs for hours at a time. Every time I peaked the noise continued but there was never anyone there. Things started go missing. I took 3 hangers out of the closet to hang some clothes. I hung the 2nd one back up and turned around and the 3rd one was gone from my bed. I turned that room upside down and didn't find it. I finally said out loud "That's not funny, please put it back". I left the room and came back 10 minutes later and it was sitting in the middle of my bed. These things happened to all 5 of us so there are many, many examples of this happening.
That year, we took a picture of our Christmas tree and when the film was developed there was a strange red orb in the picture. My Mom ran a photo lab so she went though everything in the room and it was determined that nothing could have caused it. I took it to a friend who was psychic. She came back and told me that she saw two spirits-a man wearing a fedora which would be my Grandfather but also a little boy. She said his name was Harold. He was about 5 or 6 years old and wore overalls. He had curly blond hair and big blue eyes. She told us that he died somewhere in our area in the early 1800's. He drowned in a well.
I started to acknowledge Harold and talk to him. The activity picked up even more. There were many nights I was away. My bedroom was right over the living room. At 5 am every morning as my Mom was quietly sipping her coffee and reading she would hear someone walking around my room like they were getting ready for the day. The first couple of times she went and looked and of course the room was empty. My niece had a stick horse. The kind you press its ear and it makes whinnying and galloping noises. This started going off when my Mom was home alone. It would seem Harold wanted to play.
I finally got to see him. I had insomnia and so while trying to fall asleep, I would talk to Harold. One night in one corner of my room, it looked like falling stars for about 5 minutes. Another night I could see a shadow standing on my cedar chest playing with a marionette I had hanging from the ceiling.
One night as I was talking to him, I told him I wish he would show himself to me. After a few minutes and he hadn't done anything I decided to close my eyes and try and sleep. Two minutes later I head a floor board squeak and opened my eyes. I watched Harold walk around from the foot of my bed to the side. He climbed on my bed on his tummy and came almost nose to nose with me. We just looked at each other for a moment then he smiled and backed off the bed and walked to the bottom of it and disappeared again.
I moved out shortly after that. The noises and whatnot still continued until the day my parents moved out 6 months ago. I hope and pray that the family that moved in loves him as much as we did. He was just such a lost and lonely little boy.
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