This is a story about the house I have lived in ever since I was born, and one of the experiences that occurred inside of it. So, one of the first experiences that I can remember was when I was a kid, I can't remember exactly how old I was only that I was very short, so short that to look at adults' faces, I would have to look up. One day my brother brought his girlfriend around the house, she was in a black tracksuit and there was a moment where I thought she was coming down the stairs and went into a room and closed the door because I just saw a completely black figured body. But when I opened the door, no one was there.
I felt so scared and shocked that I went running to my mother and my brother's girlfriend was talking to her, it was that moment right there that I started to really believe in the paranormal, because there was no logical way for me to explain what I saw, like let's say for example I imagined the figure walking down the stairs there's still the fact that something not there opened a door and closed it. In the room it went into there was only one way out and it's a tiny room so it's not like someone could have gotten out a different way or hid. Other things did happen, but it's always been weirdly comforting.
When I grew up though I googled the house and found a credible online article that said a family did die in my house during a war, a bomb went through the roof and killed a mother in the house instantly, her two twin daughters died in the hospital days later.
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