The following story is completely true. Believe it or not I don’t care. I’ll let you judge for yourselves.
Now I had a grandmother, Gramma Carol, who was born on October 31st sometime in the distant past. I don’t know exactly what year, neither does my mom. You see Gramma Carol could be a real b***h. She abused my mother and aunt badly, even dropping them off at a police station one Christmas Eve saying she didn’t want them anymore. My Dad remembers her as a crazy punk rock old lady with a Mohawk. I always thought this was cool since I appreciate the music myself. My only memory of her is when we tried to scare my brother one night at her cabin in the woods. A relevant memory. Oh yes and she was also into witchcraft I guess…
Anyways… Gramma Carol died when I was around maybe 12. I didn’t really care, my brother and I were spoiled and fought at the funeral. That’s all I really remember of that. She was cremated and her ashes went to my aunt’s house. Now my aunt can also be a b***h, guess it’s a hereditary thing, and she wanted to spite my dead grandmother. Gramma Carol hated the sun, of course, and my aunt put her ashes in the sun room. Like a room that was all windows for growing plants. That’s when things got strange.
My aunt would leave the house and come back to see all the paintings thrown off the walls and around the rooms. I remember walking in and seeing it once though it supposedly happened a few times. Now that could be faked but this next part couldn’t. My aunt had two large pitbulls who were basically my best friends growing up. We loved each other greatly. Now these were good dogs but they were not in the least bit trained. If anyone knocked on the door they were there howling and making a scene as most dogs do. So when I was sitting in the back room with them and heard a loud banging on the walls, and they couldn’t hear it, I was very frightened. I have goosebumps now typing this. ‘BANG! BANG! BANG!’ repeat. The dogs just sat there, acting normal. They didn’t hear it. I ran out of the room when it finished and told my aunt ‘There’s a loud banging on the walls!’ she had a frightened look in her eyes as she finished my sentence ‘and the dogs can’t hear it.’
We moved the ashes and the occurrences stopped. For the most part… I still feel haunted sometimes…