Originally Posted by
McD
2 things to share, one happened to my Dad, the other to me:
- My Grandad (my Dad's Dad) passed away before I was born, when my Dad was 20. My Grandad was physically disabled, and walked with 2 crutches or sticks most of his adult life. The only way he could get upstairs in their house was for them to have a bannister on both sides of the staircase, and he lifted himself up the stairs using both arms, facing backwards. This was the case for all of my Dad's life, and for all of that time, my Dad's bedroom shared a wall with the staircase, and my Dad was long used to hearing the bannisters creak all the way up the stair as his weight shifted up, passing his bed's headboard, until my Grandad reached the top of the stairs. After my Grandad died, a few days later, my Dad was the only one in the house overnight, and woke up during the night, and a moment later the bannisters started creaking just the same as they always had, and the creaking went slowly up the stairs, passing the back of his head, all the way to the top of the stairs, where the sound stopped, and silence. My Dad jumped out of bed, light on, got dressed, but didn't want to open the bedroom door. He waited for a few hours until daylight broke, and worked up the guts to throw open the door and rush downstairs and out the house. Never happened again
- About 6 years ago, I was walking my dog alone around Bangour, it was a weekday so very quiet. I was walking along a road with a hedge next to me, when I saw a man on the other side on the grass. He was walking in an odd direction, almost parallel to me, but going in the opposite direction. This was odd as I was walking round a curve, so it looked as if he had burst through the hedge ahead of me (which he hadn't as I would have seen him) and was walking towards nothing in particular, literally nothing at all. He was wearing royal blue trousers and jacket, heavy duty cotton material like a coal worker or manual labourer might wear, black steel toe cap boots, with steel grey hair parted in the middle, black eyebrows, probably mid to late 50s, hand shoved in his trouser pockets. I turned to speak to the dog for a split second, then looked back and couldn't see him. I chalked this up to the hedge, and continued on about 15 feet until the hedge thinned, and looked again, and he was gone. There was nowhere he could have gone, nothing he could be hidden by. It freaked me out a bit, and I spent a few minutes looking for him, and then headed back to the car still feeling freaked out.