Broken Mirrors

Growing up in the average, 3 bedroom Australian, brick suburban home. You wouldn't think a house of the 1970's era would have any tales of odd happenings. In fact, the only story you think this humble home would produce is a bunch of good memories.

The home did create some wonderful memories, but also some strange tales. I have no explanation of the little things that occurred over the years, but myself and my sister had always recalled the uneasy feeling we would have as young children from the hallway, down to the back garage and this feeling was particularly strong when we played in the attic. This feeling had been around for as long as I remember until my Mother had moved away from this home. That feeling, was around for over 23 years.

Experiences often occurred in the house, either during the day or night. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't discriminative, didn't matter who was there or what the weather was- something was always happening. Light bulbs would mysteriously explode for no reason, a few mirrors violently fell from the walls and exploded into a million pieces. Things just never seemed right. Pot plant leaves would move without the help of a breeze and little things would go missing and re-appear in strange places- car keys and things. The most annoying of all, was the feeling I got whilst taking a shower. I would always feel a set of eyes bearing down from the ceiling fan, as if someone was sitting in our attic spying on me. Many years later, I spoke and joked with this to my sister who also experienced the same strange feeling, which always made you feel uneasy, and almost sick- constantly staring up to the ceiling become almost normal within that shower.

Many years after I had moved from home, I returned with my then new born son to stay the weekend with my Mother. All seemed fine. I decided to sleep in the lounge room, for the comfort of the television, because I still felt fairly uneasy all those years later down the other end of the house. As the darkness set in and everyone went off to bed. I dozily lay and watched the bright TV. Switching it off I went to snuggle down and sleep the night away. Then bam! Just before I drift off, the TV comes blasting on. Thinking I must have leaned on the remote I turned it off and placed the remote onto the coffee table. BAM! Once again the TV is on, just before I drift off. This happens a few times until I convince myself, it must be on some timer. Switching if off for the last time- the TV comes on again, this time with the volume as high as it can possibly go. My Mother comes out to see what has gone on. I explained and she unplugged the television and told me not to worry. Things were sometimes pretty strange in that brick home.

Many years previously, when I was the age between a child and a teen I had remembered questioning my Mother about the bangs in the garage that would often happen during the day and night. Huge, loud bangs. So many times someone would go to investigate what has fallen or made the noise only to return with no explanation.

One night, I was sleeping in my room, normal night until I woke in the middle of the night. I heard the garage door open. Which made my heart pound hard and my head swim with terrible thoughts that something was going to happen to me and my family. There was a burglar in my house and no one else has heard them come in. I was so scared to move, I laid in bed eyes wide open listening to everything. I head some shuffling footsteps head down from the garage door, to the dining room. I could hear someone opening a draw and searching through the dining rooms side table draws. What where they doing? And why were they in my home. How come no one had woken up? I listened as hard as I could and from what I could make out the burglar was writing a letter, I head the paper be ripped off from the writing pad, the pen scribble across the paper on the wooden table and then, on the way back up the hall way, with the shuffling foot steps, the burglar was eating an apple. The garage door opened and closed, he was in the shed again. Terrified I waited in my bed petrified until the sun came up. I waited until my Mother woke up and called her into my room- still too scared to move.

She listened to what I had to say and told me it was going to be ok.

There was no note on the table. No apples were missing and no paper or pens had been messed up. There was no burglar. Nothing.

I often think about this and why, since a very young child I thought a man had killed himself in the garage of that house, I used to ask my Mother about this, she would often tell me that no one had died in there. I was convinced for many years that they had and everyone was lying to me- which isn't the case. As far as our family knowledge goes no one had died there.

A lot of strange happenings in this humble home. I so many more to share, but this is my first posting on here and I wasn't sure just how it would all go, does anyone have any explanation for some of the things I have mentioned?