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What I'm submitting now is true: None of what you are about to read is made up in any way.
The house I live in is pretty old. I'm not sure how old, but it's old. Like, you'd expect grandparents to live there. I am a Wiccan, and I even believe in ghosts and some paranormal things, and I know not to mess with them. I don't even fuck around with a Ouija board, I avoid those like the damn plague.
For a while, everything had been fairly quiet, a couple of creaks here and there in the walls, but my husband, Dalton, has always said it was rats coming and going. We did find a rat in our laundry room one day, so for a while, I thought he was right. That is, until the first incident...
I deal with insomnia, so I will stay up a few hours longer than Dalton will. He will be sound asleep while I stay up reading, knitting, watching TV etc. One night, I was on my phone, listing to music and playing a game, when I notice that our TV had turned on. I thought Dalton had rolled over in his sleep and landed on the remote. I turned on the light, and, when I looked, the remote wasn't near him but on the stand in front of the TV. Needless to say, I felt my blood run cold. I was trying my hardest not to freak out. I just calmly got out of bed and turned it off and went back to my phone. Insomnia or not, I wouldn't go to bed after that anyway. Fortunately, it didn't turn on again that night. I told Dalton about it, and he said the TV was probably glitching out. It's a Smart TV, but I think it would be smarter than that and not have any bugs.
Another incident happened when I was at home by myself. I was on my computer with some Netflix playing in the background, and my cat Puddin' asleep at the foot of my bed. I took a break from my writing to watch some of my show, and on the TV stand, right in front of my face, my little bag of cannabis (it's legal in my state. Don't freak out.) fell onto the floor. I stared at it for a minute before I picked it up and put it back. I even said, "What the fuck?" out loud. I told Dalton about it when he came home from work. He admitted that it was weird, but said it couldn't have been because of our fan (ever the skeptic, my hubby). And I even told him that, since it was a cool day, I didn't have the fan on.
About a month later, I was home alone again (I was unemployed at the time and my college term hadn't started yet. I know there is a pattern) playing video games and drinking a soda. I finished my drink and sat the can on my nightstand. I was planning on putting it in my recycling can when I reached a save point. After a while, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the can falling off the table and landing at my feet. I didn't touch it, and my cat was out of the room. The fan was on this day, but for that to be the culprit the can would've fallen backward and onto my bed and not forward onto the floor. And, when it fell, it was like someone put their finger under the can and flipped it over. At this point, I'm pretty freaked, but I don't go outside, screaming like a maniac. I just pick up the can, and I talk to the ghost. I don't agitate it, but I say something along the lines of, "I don't mind you being here, just please don't harm me or my husband and we won't do anything to bother you." I didn't hear or see anything weird after that, but I hope it got the hint.
The last and most recent thing that happened was one night when Dalton was sleeping and I was awake (yay insomnia). Now, a little side note: A hobby of Dalton's is building Gundam figures. For those who don't know, they are little figures that look like robots, and there is an anime about them and everything. Anyway, he built one earlier that day, and I set it on top of my bookshelf. This is a big bookshelf, about eight or so feet tall. My cat can't even get up on there. I mean, she could, but we don't let her. So anyway, he's asleep, I'm awake, and I'm catching up on a show. I then hear something falling over. I turn on the light, and I see that the top half of his figure fell off and was now on the floor. I pick it up and woke Dalton up (this was about 2 AM, by the way), and I show him the figure. He is noticeably shaken because when he builds his models he makes sure all the parts are securely connected with each other.
As of today, neither of us have heard or seen anything odd, and, if I had to think of any kind of ghost doing this, I think it might be my late grandmother.
After she died and my family and I cleaned out her house, I kept a few of her things: her yarn since she taught me how to crochet and her bed since what I had at the time was a futon that was falling apart. I didn't even feel comfortable having sex on it for almost two months since I thought that would've been super disrespectful to her. My mom even had a couple of blankets she crocheted. There was even one night, about a week after she died, I was wrapped in one of her blankets, crying, and I could've sworn that I heard her voice telling me it was going to be OK.
I'd like to think that this is her either trying to tell me she is there or she is just messing with me, which I couldn't see because my grandpa was the big joker in the family. Or it might be both of them. You never know...