Real Ghost Stories
I come from a family of three boys, (Emmanuel, Abayomi, Tokunbo) and one girl, (Stephanie). We grew up in the oil-rich city of Port Harcourt, Nigeria, enjoying the good life (actually, my dad was a very successful Chemical engineer.) We hadn’t visited my parent’s hometown, Aiyeteju, Kogi state, before. But all that changed when my dad came back one afternoon from work crying. The year was 2000 and I was 15 years old. It was the first and only time we saw dad cry so we were all really scared. He told us to pack a few things that we were traveling to his hometown right away. Somehow, no one, not even my mom could ask him what happened. All of a sudden the house was in commotion as we were running helter-skelter, trying to fill our travel bags with what we felt we would need for a journey whose purpose was yet to be known.
It was December 2006, when my sister finished her final exam
in high school and was all set for going to village home. Her
sister name was Angely, she was about 1.75metres tall, always
jolly and very talkative girl.
Our Village home was far away from the city and was
surrounded by big trees. For me, It was inhospitable to live but
for Angely it was a scintillating place where she loves to wander
around. Sometimes I wonder how people in this area grow up.
Actually, It was the cemetery near my room that makes me feel
uncomfortable and talking about it still gives me goosebumps.
What you’re about to read is a genuine case, this really did actually happen to me and my family many years ago in Wales (UK) .
My family and I grew up a large property called Gladstone villa in the former mining town of Bargoed in the Caerphilly county borough of the South Wales valleys.
We experienced a lot of phenomena that simply defied any rational explanation.
We heard footsteps that would be heard in the bedroom when we would all be downstairs watching television, one of us would turn the volume down to hear the footsteps more clearly.
My grandfather’s grave is in Crystal MN and he lived his life as a big casino winner on the slot machines in the local casino in and around the state. He was also known as a good poker player. He was known as a big gambler type who would never lose.
Now, when I visit my grandfather’s grave every year for Memorial day, I find old coins (quarters, nickels, and pennies) that sits on the grave in the dirt alongside the flat headstone. The money is always dirty and appears that it has been sitting out in the elements for a long time. I take the money everyyear and every year there’s more money around the headstone. My grandmother is right next to his but there isn’t money on her grave. I was a pallbearer for my grandfather and noticed that his casket was extremely heavy even though my grandfather was a little thin guy. All the other pallbearers at the funeral thought he took his winnings with him to the grave since we all agreed the casket was heavier than those they’ve experienced in the past as pallbearers. I believe that the money is being left by my grandfather and those are his winnings and he is giving it back through the ground. Since I’m the only one that visits his grave, I am the only one that notices these occurrences and believe my grandfather is giving back his money.
My mother would often tell me stories about the ‘strange paranormal behaviour’ that surrounded my older brother. He was around 3 years old when it first started and told her he had an “imaginary friend.” Like most mum’s, she thought it was adorable. At least that was until his friend started seeming not so imaginary. She would hear my brother having in-depth conversations, as though he was answering someone, and sometimes she swore she saw a shadow follow him as he walked around the house.
I was 14 years old and my best friend, Hannah was just about to move to a different house. They were moving out to the country so that they could have more space, and both I and my friend were sad at the thought of no longer living close to one another, but we promised we would visit each other and keep in touch.
On the day of the move I helped them pack stuff up into the removal van, it was very usual for me to be around as at this point myself and Hannah were inseparable and she was excited to show me her new house. It was this day that the strange paranormal things I am going to tell you about started to happen.
As a child, I always dreaded going to visit my maternal grandmother. She was a foul woman, a stale cigarette always hanging from her frowning lips and the scent of mothballs heavy around her. I am not sure that she ever spared a kind word for me. I firmly disliked her, with all of the fervor that a child could muster. Perhaps I would have tolerated her presence more, had her home not been so severely haunted. She lived in a real life haunted house!
I do not say “haunted” lightly. Rather, that title seems like an understatement. “Evil” fits it much better. It was unassuming enough in appearance, a small, two-story townhouse nestled into the corner of a quaint suburban street. Beside it was a small yard, framed with a chain-link fence and dotted with overgrown plants and mismatched lawn ornaments. It was here that I found sanctuary on our bi-monthly visits to my grandmother’s house. Inside, the atmosphere was much different.