Reddit and a paranormal story

I’ve only started roaming Reddit on a regular basis in the last few months and it’s interesting to the say the least. One subreddit in particular, has drawn my attention a number of times.

The paranormal side of Reddit is a hive of spiritual experiences, ghost stories and the occasional video or photo “evidence” etc. Now a lot of it is most likely complete bull####, but every now and then you come upon that one post that radiants some legit paranormal activity type s###…. maybe.     

One post I’ve seen recently, posted by user Oricu details the experience of his procurement of a haunted doll on a whim. Now the comments of said post are filled with what you might expect, skeptics, trolls, assh#### and the occasional believer and supporter. Now years ago I would’ve called myself a skeptic, but I’ve experienced a few things which have made my ass uncomfortably rest on a metaphorical fence. One such experience was a house I lived in when I was young. Now at first the place was fine, it was a big fenced off property, with plenty of space and it was relatively cheap, which my mum loved, but after a year things started to get weird.

One of my sisters was on a junior netball team at the time and my mum used to have meetings for the team at our place to talk about ball size and s### like that (bad joke). During one such meeting, my mum noticed one of the other mums at the meeting looking terrified and staring at the roof support beam that ran along our kitchen ceiling. Eventually, the meeting ended and she forgot all about it. That’s was until a few days later when a friend of my mum who knew that woman well pulled my mum aside and brought it up, explaining what had happened.

Apparently, the women at the meeting had seen a noose hanging from the kitchen roof and was frozen with fear as it just swung there for the remaining twelve or so minutes of the meeting. Now at that point, I called bulls### and said guessed the women was a fruitcake.

After a few years in the place and some not so great stuff happening to my family during that time ranging from verbal and mental abuse from a drunkard of a stepfather to money problems, which all seemed to start when we lived there, though I just chalk that up to coincidence. Anyway, eventually, we decided to move. What happened during the last few days at the house was strange, to say the least.

You see in this house was a laundry room which was down a few steps to the main part of the house to help prevent flooding if a washing machine went on the fritz or if a tap was leaking (I guess). Now the second day into moving out we came early in the morning to continue packing and cleaning and the taps (for the washing machine) in the laundry room where on. Now the washing machine was one of the first things to go so the water just went straight onto the floor, but luckily the water never rose into the house and the laundry was made to dry quickly since it was mostly concrete and it also had a sunroof. We just mopped up and brushed it off and got on with the move. But then It happening again the next day. Both taps hot and cold on full blast, with the water level just short of flooding into the main part of the house the house.

Day three the same thing happened and at this point, my mum was not only pissed but confused. The house was always locked up tight and no one else had a key besides the landlord and he lived out of town and only stopped in on the fourth day to see how we were getting along. Also he himself never lived in the house and actually owned a few homes alongside a real estate agency.

My mum told him what had been happening and eventually he told use ever so reluctantly that a former child occupant of the house from many years ago had drowned in the nearby harbour. I also brought up the hanging noose story to the guy and he said that before the house was moved to where it was now, it used to be part of a bushmen lodge over seventy years ago, the lounge and “KITCHEN” anyway and that there were stories of a hunter that hanged himself in the house.

The icing on the cake was me walking inside on the fourth day alone as everyone went to get lunch and asking the boy whose name we got from the landlord, but which I don’t want to disclose (sorry), to stop and that he shouldn’t be afraid and that the new tenants will be nice people. I just thought why the f### not, let’s see If me saying this does something. It did… The next morning the taps weren’t on and for the last two days of moving nothing happened, the taps stayed off. Sadly the new tenants turned out to be not so nice people. They were drop kick druggies that had parties every night, trashed the house and lived off the benefit, I felt bad in a way because of that.

All in all, It was a weird experience and a week in living at the new pad my mum dug up some more dirt on the history of that house. We found out that another guy that had lived there all alone apparently went insane and his family had to admit him to a mental health unit where he eventually killed himself. Not only that but my mum took a job at a retirement home a year later as a carer and guess who’s working there, the boy’s mother. According to my mum she was a bitter old harpy, but I guess that was no surprise since her only child had passed away.

My mum never told her what are family had experience out of fear of being ridiculed and maybe a bit of fear of the woman, to be honest, I don’t really know. So yeah that’s it, this s### might seem to be a steven king wannabes attempt at a piss poor fanfic but it really did happened, take it as you will I just thought I would share the tale.

Thumbnail art by Leena Kill (

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