The English house of multiple spirits

When I was 9 and my sister was 8 we moved into a house in the south of England. We had moved around a lot but I remember being instantly on alert in the room that was the bedroom for my sister and I. I hated it.

It always seemed colder than the other rooms in the house and I’d have screaming fits not wanting to go to bed. I’d often wake in the night and run to my parents room, almost paralytic from the anxiety of not wanting to be in the room. I even used my school library computer to look up the term “fear of going to bed” (cliniphobia).

One day my sister told my mum “I woke up in the night and a man dressed in black with a cane was sitting at the end of my bed and looking at me”. She told us it was probably a ghost and he was just watching over us to make sure we were ok. My anxiety elevated after this chat.

Shortly after this, my mum asked me to get something from upstairs from that room. At this point I was so fucking terrified of going upstairs that I grabbed my pet budgie (for support?) and ran into the room. In my empty room, I heard two male voices having a conversation - they said something about “Mickey”. I was fucking terrified as there was no radio on, no men around and no one I knew called Mickey.

This house was notorious for things being lost in it. Mum left an envelope of £1000 on the stairs one day in an empty house and she went back an hour later to put it in her purse and it had gone. We never found it. We lost SO MANY things in this house.

I had a drawer I kept underwear in and I kept my jewellery/hair stuff on the other side of the room. Daily, I would find my jewellery placed on top of the underwear when I pulled out the draw. Many years later I saw a psychic that told me it was “the spirit children” that did this (she had no idea as I never told anyone).

One night I was asleep and heard noises. I peeked out from under my quilt. On the wall above my sisters bed on the other side of the room were about 10 circular lights just swirling around. I watched them for a while - they were quite calming and pretty but this was the only time I had a good experience.

Nearly every morning I’d wake early and hear what sounded like a paper guillotine downstairs. Like someone was just methodically chopping paper. I told myself if was my parents slicing paper into brochures for their business but my parents would always be asleep, we didn’t own a paper guillotine and there were never any paper brochures lying around.

We moved out and a few years later and my parents told me that that room was where a policewoman actually hung herself in.

submitted by /u/Astrid00
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