I Moved Into My Dead Grandma's House

I think I was about 12-13 at the time, maybe a little older it's hard to recall. But my step-dad's mom had recently died of lung cancer, and she had lived about a 5 minute drive across town from us. I had me, my mom, my older sister, 2 younger sisters, younger brother and step-dad living in an undecorated 2 bedroom semi-detached house... I mean, the fact that my step-dad had never put a door on the cellar in that house that led right under the stairs was freaky enough. I was already convinced that house was somewhat unusual.

But what was truly eerie was when we upped and packed one day on a whim - my grandma's house was 4 bedroom (weird she still lived there even when all her kids had moved out and she was divorced...?) and he just sent me and my older sister up on bikes to clean out what was left. All the furniture was gone minus some heirlooms in the garage which had been used as a storage room, the sofas and kitchen etc, and we just moved in like, that night. She couldn't have been dead for longer than 2 months at that point but left the house in her will between my step-dad and his 2 siblings so he agreed to pay them their percentage if they let us live in it. To be honest, we needed the space.

I'll mention that my mom and grandma did not get along. My grandma was a tight, annoying, clean-freak who wouldn't let you get your mucky paws on any of her things. Ironically, it had been her idea to let us stay there before we moved into the 2 bedroom, but she drove my mom so crazy we moved out to the smaller house early, before it was finished.

So a few months along the line, once we'd moved into my grandma's now vacant house, we started talking about getting rid of some of the heirlooms. My mom hated the old granddaughter clock that had been left in the hallway, and put it into the garage with the other things. That's when it started. Now that clock hadn't worked for years - it was simply an ornament at that point. It hadn't told the time even when my grandma had lived there, or when I had lived there temporarily prior. My mom wanted to give it to my step-dad's sister - it was a granddaughter clock, and so would be passed to the next woman in the family. But we weren't on great terms with his sister and so it was put into storage.

A couple of nights later... It only starts to ring. Like loud, warped ringing, at weird times in the night. It rang sporadically too - not with even pauses in between - and it didn't ring to symbolise the hour - no, it rang until you went downstairs, into the garage and fiddled with the broken bits and cogs and knocked it off. Then you'd go upstairs, lie in bed, and an hour later or so it'd start again. Normally a clock like that would be muffled from the cushioning of the garage door, and the kitchen one as you had to go through the kitchen to get there. But it was like it was in my bedroom with me, right next to my head. Sometimes it even did it during the daytime.

Eventually it stopped doing it altogether. The thing just stopped ticking, which it also randomly did on and off. You'd be stood in the kitchen and you'd hear it ticking quietly. Even if you turned on a tap you'd distinctively hear it. I can't even remember the last time it went off, or if we even own it anymore. I don't live with my mom anymore so, I don't know if she just got rid of the stupid thing.

But I also remember one day when we got a leak. It was right under where the boiler cupboard was upstairs, so nobody seemed too bothered. My step-dad was some kind of handyman, and so he just looked at the boiler and said he'd have to get someone in to fix it as soon as possible.

One day, me and my mom with one of my younger sisters and my eldest sister were in the kitchen having lunch - directly below the boiler. My youngest sister was asleep in her Moses basket in the living room, and my brother was out with my step-dad. To be honest, it was my mom, the skeptic, who pointed it out.

Footsteps.

Not super heavy ones, just like someone was passing from room to room upstairs. We all froze, just listening. My mom just shrugged it off, changing the subject, and it stopped eventually. We carried on eating lunch, but my mom said something. It was something to do with my grandma - I can't remember what as it was so long ago - but I don't think she said anything malicious or spoke badly of her. It may have just been regarding the belongings we wanted to get rid of to make more room.

But something set off the footsteps again as we heard the boiler cupboard door slam - bear in mind the only people home were in the kitchen or sleeping in the living room - which was mega weird as we never heard it open. It was a noisy door too, really squeaky and dragged on the carpet.

Then a bang. Water began to seep through the ceiling, and my mom ran upstairs to find the boiler had exploded at the back, pipes burst, and water had leaked out into the back wall which was connected to her built-in wardrobe. It soaked her whole bedroom carpet.

I think this happened twice more. I wasn't home for either of them. All the doors and windows had been shut that day, too, so nobody had gotten in. And if they had... Why would they target our boiler? I'm so glad I don't live there anymore. The woman was already hard to live with when she was alive... Apparently worse when she was dead.