We bought our house in a quiet little grove in Thornaby a number of years ago now. Dated from the 1940s, the house had been extended around the back - on one level - to provide an extra room. This was just prior to us buying it. Our eldest daughter Toni took it as her bedroom and made it her own. It was never a warm room, even with the heating on full blast, and I have never felt at ease in there. I've always felt the urge to look over my shoulder when I'm in there and have, on many occasions, felt 'something' brush past me.
One morning Toni was quite distressed and spoke of seeing a dark shadow hovering above her during the night. We tried to put her mind at rest, that it was just a dream or a reflection of some sort, but nothing calmed her.
This continued for a week so I told her I would sleep in the room with her for the night to prove there was nothing spooky in there, (deep down I was hoping to convince myself more than her.) We had a great girly night in there, watched some films and started nodding off. Toni slept on a futon and I took the bed. I sleep on my side and was flat out when I suddenly awoke with a feeling of icy dread. I had a weight on my entire body and my face was being rammed into the pillow really hard - so hard I couldn't breathe. It's was totally and utterly terrifying and seemed to last for minutes, but it was probably only about 20 seconds or so. Then it was gone. I leapt out of bed and shakily tried to wake Toni. She's a heavy sleeper and I couldn't rouse her. I ran upstairs to get my husband. He's a confirmed sceptic and looked at me as though I was mad, telling me it was a bad dream. It most certainly was not.
We woke Toni and moved her to our room for safety and we slept in the unwelcoming room. Thankfully the night passed without further incident.
My fearful experience seemed to be like the opening of Pandora's Box. From then on, all over the house, I heard noises, saw things out of the corner of my eye, and smelt the foul aromas of sweat and smoke that came from nowhere then vanished. I slept with a quilt permanently over my ears and on several occasions felt it being pulled from me, I even fought to keep it on me!, still it was yanked away.
I was petrified and coming to the end of my tether. I was beginning to hate my house.
A friend told me she'd been to see a medium named Margaret and had been very impressed with her reading. I thought she might be able to help me so I contacted her. We got her round and she spoke to my friends and family members and her information was spot on. Then it was my turn and what she told me sent a cold chill though my bones.
Margaret said there was a very vicious, evil old man's spirit in the house and that he hated me. She even knew he'd tried to kill me. The old man had been the original owner of the property and despised everything that had been done to it since he had died. He especially hated the 'new bedroom' and was ranting that it shouldn't be there!
So now I knew what was haunting my house and why, but it didn't help. The uneasiness grew as did the volume in paranormal incidents.
On one occasion both me and my other daughter Demi saw lightning in the hall.
We were sat watching TV when the foul stench returned. It was so intense, so localised, I could literally feel it run up and down the length of my body. Demi felt it too.
On the fireplace, we had an metal ornament, a bird with a spring for a neck. No one had touched it, I was alone, but I walked into the living room and saw that it's head was bobbing, indeed the whole ornament was rocking on the spot.
I'd had enough. I rang Margaret and demanded she come round and get rid of this presence. She did so, calmly sat down, drank the tea I'd made her and said, 'Right, let's get rid of this old bastard.'
She sat me down on the bed and ordered me not to leave the room because she could see the old man stood by the patio door. I felt dizzy, cold and sick and wanted desperately to leave, but did not. Margaret began a conversation with the old man. It transpired the spirit was bitter because he was in partnership with the man who'd built the house but he had betrayed him in some way. The old man had no family and saw no reason to cross over, he was staying in our world in a perpetual state of bitterness and anger. He hated me and my family and everything we did riled him. He really didn't like our recycling and the noise we made tossing cans and bottles into the recycling bin pushed him to his limit. He told Margaret there was no way he was going to leave when she ordered him to, in fact he became violent and abusive to her, spitting and kicking at her - but she stood her ground and after what seemed like an eternity she said 'He's gone.' This may sound corny, but at the same moment she told me that my nausea left me and I felt a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Whether the old man has truly gone is anyone's guess as I still sometimes get the odd tug, or a push from behind - but the incidents are now few and far between. Maybe Margaret just managed to quell his anger and he's still there in a less agitated state. My youngest daughter Ellie sleeps in the room now and has never once complained about anything untoward or spooky. Would I ever sell my house because of what's happened there? No way! Life is for the living and if the dead don't like it - tough!
