The house I currently live in has been in my Dad's family for 165 years. It was built before the civil war so, obviously, there have been many occupants. One such occupant was named "Kari-Anne". She lived here with her husband "Pat" and their 4 children in the late 1890's to early 1900's. Kari was a stay-at-home mother, and Pat ran the local whore house. They raised their family here, and amid allegations of physical abuse, managed to live a relatively quiet life. In 1943, Kari-Anne died of old age.
Fast forward 59 years to 2002 (when my family moved in). The house was very nice, but obviously very old. My great aunt, who was the last occupant before us, had something of an eccentric taste. The carpet was a nice mustard yellow, which went along perfectly with the 966 different salt and pepper shaker sets she had on display. Needless to say, we had our work cut out for us.
After a few months of work, we had made the house look somewhat decent. We had put a pretty good amount of money into the house, and not wanting to spend more than we had to, we kept the appliances. Refrigerator, Oven/Stove ect. as they worked perfectly fine (why fix what isn't broken, right?) One night, my Mom was walking from the bathroom to her room. As she was walking past the kitchen, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a little old lady standing in front of the stove. She appeared to be cooking...or at least trying to cook. She was very old, very short (about 4'11), hair in a bun, glasses low on her nose. My Mom ran to her room and told my Dad what she had seen. He went to investigate, and found nothing. This happened every night for a week. Same spot, same lady, same time of night.
Being that it was still a new (to us) home, we still had to clean out the attic. While cleaning, we found TONS of antiques. You name it, we found it! Clothes, Furniture, Musical Instruments, Tax Records...anything you can think of. While cleaning, my mother found an old family photo album. The album contained pictures of my Dad's great aunt, who owned the house, his grandmother and her family, and his great grandmother...Kari-Anne. "That's her!", I remember hearing my Mom's voice ring from the attic. She had found several photos of Kari-Anne and her family. The album concluded with pictures of Kari-Anne in her casket, which upon taking a closer look, turned out to be sitting in our new living room. My mother took the pictures and displayed them in our living room, along with other antiques we had found. After we displayed the photos, the figure of the little old lady stopped appearing.
That was 13 years ago. And outside of hearing occasional footsteps, or having small antiques moved around, nothing out of the ordinary has happened since.
Submitted August 25, 2015 at 04:17AM by Cocojeffme http://ift.tt/1fCdCNu creepy
No comments:
Post a Comment