What's really great about this story that I'm about to relate, is that it is, for all intents and purposes, "true," to the best of my recollection, as it happened to me and my sons back in the late '80's. Looking back, I want to say we lived in a haunted house.
We (my husband at the time and I) bought our first house in a small central New York community, adjacent to a Native reservation. In fact, the community was built on what was well known to be "Indian land." The house was a Cape Cod style colonial with a large upstairs room and dormer windows. The heating was ancient as was the plumbing, but it was our first house, and we were excited to have purchased it.
The "happenings" began soon after we moved in. I often heard conversations occurring, which I sensed originated in the living room. I would hear them as I was waking up after working the night shift. The conversations were just barely audible and I couldn't make out any of the words - but I could sense emotions. It sounded like someone was angry. My first reaction was to be annoyed with my sons. They had the television on too loud and I got up to ask them to turn the TV down.
Imagine how I felt when I walked into an empty living room! My sons were out with their father and the house had been empty for hours. This happened on more than one occasion.
One night, two of my sons, who slept in the upstairs dormer, woke up simultaneously to see the broken arm of a rocking chair that their grandfather had made for them, moving up and down, as if someone was examining it. They then reported that they had seen a "mommy ghost and a baby ghost." It was the baby ghost who was playing with the arm of the chair.
When they told me about this the next day, I asked them why they didn't come down and get me, and they said that they had been too scared to get out of their beds. On subsequent days, I heard from my sons about people moving through the walls and waking them up. Then there was the oddest incident of all - the lightning.
I was in the living room with my kids and there was a cracker of a thunderstorm outside. The four of them were playing at the foot of the stairs when I called them to me. I don't know why I called them at that moment. I just knew I wanted them close to me. At that second, a streak of lightning shot in from the upstairs dormer window, travelled down the stairs at a slant, and then BOOM! It shot through the floor at the base of the stairs right where they had been playing. There was a huge reverberation of thunder in the house - ear splitting in fact, but no burn or anything left in the carpet.
I got deathly ill with pneumonia and pleurisy while living there. We left that house after living in it for only a couple of years. My husband and I split up and I wonder sometimes if it had anything to do with the ill-will that the house engendered.
To this day, I've not heard those "conversations" ever again.