Recently I read a book on True Irish Ghost Stores I ordered from Dover Publications for St. Patrick’s Day. It featured a few stories on poltergeists (noisy ghosts) among other tales. It reminded me of when I lived in the little house on the hill.
Growing up in it was very odd. There was a series of weird noises, and I even saw objects move about by themselves. One time a heavy iron flew from one room into another. We were all in bed and we heard a loud crash. We found the iron under my parents’ bed on my dad’s side. It was late at night and no one was awake.
One night after my sisters were married and no one was around but my mother and myself, we heard a loud banshee cry. My mom said, “Did you hear that?” and I said, “Yes.” We found out later that someone we knew had died a violent death. A strange coincidence.
My sisters’ room tended to be the hub of this activity. We later found out that the same room was where a young boy had died. We found this out from a friend who was a good Christian man who would have never lied.
It should be noted that after we moved into the house, there was an iron bed in the above-mentioned bedroom. Our suspicions were that this bed may have been where the young boy died. We couldn’t prove it, but it had been left behind. And so it goes.