My first stepfather had his own construction business and often times he would take us kids along with him to the job site, he could keep an eye on us and it was free labour. About 10 years ago he got a contract to work on a small house for a family that had purchased it. The house was considered a "fixer-upper" and they had contracted my stepfather out for it. On this particular day he happened to have me and my two step brothers with him. Imagine our surprise when the house we would be working on was right next door to the local cemetery. I don't mean a block away from the cemetery either; you could have jumped the chain link fence in the yard and landed on a tombstone, that's how close the house was to the cemetery. The very idea of working so close to the cemetery already creeped me and my two brothers out but my stepfather told us we were being ridiculous and just to start unloading the truck.
The inside of the house wasn't much better. It had been a bright, sunny, Sunday summer afternoon, but for some reason, the entire house held a chill to it, going from the front yard to the inside of the house, there was a drastic temperature change. I mentioned my observations on the temperature of the house; my stepfather assured me older houses were designed to stay cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Besides the unusual temperature change in the house, there was just an eerie sensation of being watched; me and my step brothers all felt it. If my stepfather had felt it, he was refusing to acknowledge it.
So we started to go about our business and begin work on the house and for a while he had forgotten everything that had bothered us about the house; until my older stepbrother came running up from the basement holding his nose, blood was leaking from it. He explained to us he was walking down the steps to the basement when out of the blue it had felt like brick had smashed him in the face and he had nearly fallen down the steps from the surprise and the force of the impact on his face. You could tell he was freaked out; he was shaking and sweating even though the house was unusually chilly. We headed downstairs and checked the stairs and the basement, because there was a rogue pipe or something hanging down far enough to smash someone in the face, we'd need to fix it. Unfortunately, we were unable to find anything or offer an explanation as to what had hit him in the face.
Bruised and shaken he went back to work as did the rest of us. We were all working in the kitchen, which was adjacent to door to the basement, when suddenly we heard a door slam from downstairs and someone come stomping up the stairs. We all looked at each other in confusion and sheer horror when we realized all of us where in the same room. At this point I'd like to mention, besides smashing a window out of the basement, the only way to access it was from that door in the kitchen. My step brother, the one who had the "accident" started to freak out and ran up to the door and shut the deadbolt on the door. The stomping footsteps reached the stop of the stairs and the knob on the door twisted as if someone were trying to open the door, when they realized the door had been bolted shut, they started to jerk on the handle and bang on the door. By now my step brother had all of his weight on the door yelling for whatever it was to "stop". Suddenly all of the commotion did stop, the banging, the slamming, it all stopped. We all stood there for a second, all looking white as ghosts. In silence we finished up what we were doing in the kitchen, packed up and left.
My stepfather is a huge sceptic and even when confronted with anything paranormal, he refuses to acknowledge it, even when one of his children is hit in the face with it. To this day he refuses to even acknowledge we worked on the house. After the events that happened, we all refused to go help with the house. For the next week my stepfather would go alone to work on the house, if he had experienced anything else, he never told us.
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Daz.