My Haunted House

by Real Ghost Stories

This happened to me in September 1997 when I was living with an abusive boyfriend (now my ex).

We moved into a house in Griffydam, Leicestershire in Elder Lane, it was a beautiful big house and we were renting it.

The day after we’d moved in, I was unpacking in the kitchen when I felt like I was being watched, like someone was looking over my shoulder. I thought nothing of it and continued with my unpacking, but I kept seeing something moving out of the corner of my eye. I would turn to look properly and nothing was there. I found this rather unsettling.

About a week after we’d moved in, my boyfriend was in the living room and I was in the kitchen. The sun was streaming through the window, I had nothing on my mind apart from mundane work issues. I was chopping up vegetables for salad. I looked down and I saw standing behind me a pair of shiny black shoes with legs, but as I was looking down and back, I couldn’t see much more. I turned to look properly over my shoulder, thinking my boyfriend had come in, to greet him and nothing was there.

I ran through to the living room and demanded to know if he’d been in the kitchen. He laughed at me at first, thinking I was joking, then he saw the look on my face and explored the house thoroughly. No-one was there. I was very concerned, not about the presence of a ghost, but the fact it may frighten me into dropping a plate. If I broke anything, my abusive boyfriend would go mental and not speak to me for days, he’d get very angry.

My boyfriend returned to watch TV and I went back into the kitchen alone. I stood in the centre of the room and, feeling like a prize idiot said the following: Hi, my name is Joanne and my boyfriends name is … We’ve just moved here as you know, we know this is your house and you’ve probably been here for ages. We’re only actually going to be staying a year, so we won’t be here forever or try and take the house from you or anything.

It’s just that, well, my boyfriend is a bit scary at times, he goes mad at me if I drop a plate or a glass, he gets really mad.

Anyway, I was wondering if you could stop coming up behind me like that because I’m scared I’ll drop a plate or a glass or make some such mistake and he’ll go mental. Thanks ever so much.

The incidents stopped from that day and only happened again in August 1998, the day before we moved out, and I was once again packing things in the kitchen. I felt a friendly presence looking over my shoulder.

Perhaps it had come to see me off!

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