I lived in a small country town in Central Victoria in a two-storey weatherboard home with my best friend. We both loved scary movies and ghost stories and thought it was quite a novelty to discover that we had a ghost in the house.
At first the activity was quite innocent and playful. Objects would go missing for weeks only to show up in sealed storage boxes and at the back of cupboards. But as quickly as the activity started, it became nasty.
My friend would be sitting on the couch and could see her hair blowing gently forward and smell 'a foul breathe'. Understandably frightened, she turned all the lights on in the house and resorted to the safety of her kitchen and waited for me to get home from work.
This was only the beginning of what eventuated into a terrifying few months for us. The activity within the house become increasingly dark and heinous as the weeks went by.
We named the ghost 'George' because we felt it was a male energy, and George seemed to be mostly attached to me. George would travel in my car with me.
On a particularly memorable occasion, my brakes failed while I was entering a busy roundabout at the bottom of a hill narrowly missing pedestrians and other cars as I frantically pumped the brakes but to no avail. As I exited the roundabout my car started to operate normally again. I took no risks and went straight to the local mechanics. They could find no reason for the brakes failing no matter how hard the looked.
George would come to work with me. I worked in a petrol station at the time and worked the 'grave yard' shift. The company rules stated that I must have the doors on an automatic lock after 9pm each night for my own safety. The only way the massive glass doors could open was via a switch from behind the counter, or from a key if you were outside. However these doors would open without the switch or the key and products would fall off shelves. On one occasion, a large 20-litre drum of oil came toppling from its place.
George came to my boyfriend's house. My then boyfriend (now husband) lived in a unit at the time. Because his weekly rent was set at a certain amount it included all electricity, gas and water usage, so during the freezing Daylesford winter, the gas fire was burning all the time and it was so warm in the unit it felt stifling. But while sitting on the couch some nights, I would feel a freezing blast of cold air that would pass over me briefly or seem to surround me. There were times where Gus and I would get up from our seats and guided only by our hands, would feel this ice cold 'spot' move throughout the unit.
George would watch me sleep. Without doubt, the most frightened moments that I can remember in the house. My bedroom was forever freezing cold. No amount of heating would take the bone cold chill off the room. The room itself had an oppressive atmosphere that couldn't be ignored by anyone who entered. I was too scared to turn my light off during the night as every night spent in that bedroom brought the same series of events.
Every night I would hear heavy footsteps that would start in the bathroom on the ground level, just outside my door and walk pass my room, through to the kitchen and open the fridge door, which was unmistakably squeaky. Not long after this event, I would then hear the floorboards, beside my bed creek as though someone was standing on them, shifting their weight. I felt as though someone, not particularly nice was standing over me as I tried to sleep. Even with the lights on, I was too scared to look. I would hear a deep guttural voice say 'Hello' to me in the middle of the night; the stuff nightmares are made of.
Some other activity that occurred in this time:
Footsteps up and down the stairs that connected the ground and first floor. Upon entering the house, everyone's initial reaction was to look to the top of the stairs as though someone was there watching you, but you couldn't see them. Some mornings I would discover massive painful bruises on my legs to which I couldn't explain. I put it down to being clumsy and maybe knocking myself at work, until the day I discovered a hand shaped bruise on my upper thigh. Gus's hand wasn't big enough to make this bruise.
My friend had her boyfriend over to watch movies one night when I wasn't home. He had been saying that he thought we were both going loopy with the current state of events that we would report to him. This particular night, they heard tapping coming from within the walls. Try as they might they could not find the source. Tammy would go to the back of the house and report that the tapping was at the front of the house while Shaun would stay in the front of the house and report it coming from the back of the house.
My friend's boyfriend came from the downstairs rumpus room one night and stuck his head across the stair banisters only to see a large, dark shape of a man walk across the room. He didn't mention anything to Tammy until the next day but he never doubted us again.
One afternoon, my friend and I were sitting in the kitchen chatting over a coffee when the topic turned to 'getting rid of George'. The activity was effecting all of the residence and visitors to the house to the point where neither my friend nor I would stay in the house, day or night, alone. While talking about calling in a local psychic we both knew and trusted, I felt a tightening around my voice box and was unable to talk. I ran out onto the back porch where I regained my ability to speak. We only re-entered the house long enough to grab a few belongings and didn't return until the psychic came to cleanse the house.
The psychic came on two occasions to cleanse the house, both times it didn't work for us because George would hide from the medium, I guess he was having too much fun haunting us. The psychic scoured the house for the 'proof' of George and she found him in the bathroom. She claimed that all activity begins in the ground floor bathroom and there, on the wall, was what looked like a dirty handprint to us, but upon closer inspection, showed a face complete with ears, eyes and a nose but not a mouth. I was a perfect face.
The activity would only stop after my visit to a local kinesthiologist.
To this day I don't know what duty a kinesthiologist performs! But upon walking in the door, he said the words I needed to hear in my search in sheer desperation to be rid of this nasty spirit 'Don't worry, he stayed outside'.
After an hour with this man I stood up and felt literally dizzy from the weight that had been lifted from my shoulders. I walked into the hallway and felt alone for the first time in months. I went home to our house and sat in my bedroom and felt comfortable. That night I slept solidly and we never heard from George again.
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