Scratch Scratch…

When I was teenager my parents bought a house in Onehunga. The woman who owned the house before us was born in the house and died in the house when she was in her 80’s. My Mum and sister swore that the house was haunted and I had friends, both male and female, who after visiting the house would refuse to return but I never “felt” anything until I moved back home for a couple of months when I was in my 20’s.

One evening I came home from shopping and had to get ready to go to work. My sister had called and said that she would be coming by to pick something up later. So I go get in the shower and a couple of minutes later I hear someone scratching at the bathroom door.

We didn’t have a cat or a dog, so thinking it’s my sister I said “I’ll be right out.”

I get out, start to get dressed and I hear the scratching at the door again. I was annoyed and yelled “I said I would be right out, jeez!”

Again scratching at the door.

I’m not kidding when I say all the little hairs on the back of neck raised up. I jerked the door open and no one’s there, no one’s in the house, anywhere. There was no way anyone could have been there and gotten out our drive way (it was very long and gravely so you had to go very slow or your car would slide) in the 30 seconds it took me to open the bathroom door and get to the kitchen (which over-looks the drive).

Anyway I was scared to death. I left the house, barefoot, hair still wet, got in my car and went to work without looking back because I was afraid that I just might see something that I didn’t want to see.

Nothing ever happened to me there again but, then again, I wouldn’t go there alone after that.

Story contributed by: Kate C.

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