To Whom It May Concern,
In the early eighties, I went to look at a house to rent (with two girlfriends) on Ranleigh Ave., just west of Mount Pleasant Rd. in Toronto.
It was in the evening that we had an appointment to see this house, and I remember it was quite cold (probably late fall). We didn't think anything was unusual as we walked up to the house - other than the fact that the lights were off, and the front door was open. Once we got inside - the lights remained off (even as we tried all of the light switches) and it was quite cold. We just assumed that the owner had shut the power off.
Needless to say - we couldn't really see inside the house - but the street lights through the windows gave us enough light to move around without banging into the walls, so we ventured up the stairs to the bedrooms and back down to the main floor. There was a basement - but we didn't go down for obvious reasons! The house was an old two-storey detached with a back sunroom and a basement. The original hardwood flooring and mouldings were in very good condition and the house had an "olde English" feel to it. As we left - we all agreed that we would rent it and would make the arrangements to move in. When we called the landlord - he was surprised that we had gotten in to see the house. (I didn't mention that we were late for the showing, and he had left). He stressed that he had not left the door open, and that the power hadn't been shut off and how did we get in?
That was probably the first sign that things were not alright with this house. Anyway, we signed the lease and shortly thereafter moved in.
Everything was fine with the move - I had taken the front bedroom (which had an adjoining room) - and my girlfriends took the back bedrooms. We spent time unpacking and learning where things were - and of course, getting used to the noises.
It was about a month after we settled in that I started noticing some "different" things. Of course, you're alone when strange things start to happen, so I would talk common sense into myself, believing that these "things" were just part of living in an old house. Which, under normal circumstances, is usually the case.
I noticed floors creaking ( when no-one else was in the house), and lights going back on after being turned off whenever I would leave a room and then return. I was always sure that I had turned off the light when leaving the room - a habit I've had since living at home.
But then more noticeable things would happen. For instance (because the weather was getting colder), I would adjust the thermostat for warmth - and instead of warming up, the room would get colder. When I would get up to check the thermometer, it had been turned back down. Again, thinking logically, I thought it was probably a faulty thermostat. I would also feel cold spots in certain parts of a room, especially in my bedroom and the living room. The kind of cold that put a complete shiver through your whole body. But - thinking logically, those extremely cold spots must be drafts!
Then, one night, something finally convinced me that we were probably not alone. I had come home late, and went straight up to my room and into bed. All of the lights were off so I figured everybody else was sleeping. But as my head hit the pillow, I heard someone say, in a very clear voice, from the hallway - "Goodnight, Donna." I replied back, and went to sleep. I didn't think anything of it until the morning. I was alone. My roommates were not home. One girlfriend had called me from her mother's house in Scarborough (where she stayed overnight) and told me that the other girlfriend was at a crafts show somewhere in Ontario and wouldn't be home until Monday. Of course I didn't tell her what I had heard - you don't want your roommate thinking you're bananas! So I tried to talk myself into thinking that I was probably just hearing things.
I soon found out that I was not the only one to notice these things.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and we decided to go grocery shopping down the street. One of my girlfriends had just baked a chocolate cake and put it in the fridge. In fact, she was putting it in the fridge as we were walking out the front door. This is important, because when we got home - the fridge was wide open and there was a perfectly cut piece missing from the cake. There were no signs of crumbs, a dirty knife or a dish anywhere. The back door was locked (it was a deadbolt) as was the front. We checked the house and no one was around. Needless to say, she couldn't blame any of us because we were all together. The only logical explanation was that the landlord had come in (he was the only person with a key) and took a piece of cake - what else would explain it?
It was a few days later when we needed him to come by to fix something, that we asked him about the piece of cake. Well, we felt stupid enough, because he was not the type of person to do that. Anyway, we just let it go. And then a few months later, what I call the "Grand Finale" happened.
It was probably spring by then, and we had all become accustomed to weird things happening. It was out in the open - One of my roomates had experienced similar things to me - but the other didn't really talk about it. The weird thing about this friend was - beside the stereotypical fact that she had long red, hair - and that she was also from the country - was most importantly, that she had also experimented in witchcraft. Not a lot - but enough to put a bit of a scare into me.
I found all of this out from the other roomate. She told me that my friend's brother had recently died (young) - in a motorcycle accident - and it had only been a short time that she had been grieving before we moved in together. Well, my imagination was put into overdrive - and I just figured that the weird things that happened were related to the fact that she must be conjuring up some weird stuff. Apparently, she was trying to "talk to him" - which is normal when young people die - and was using various methods to "reach him." I'm not sure whether it was "he" who was making the strange visits - but my one roomy and I soon found out something else that put us on the edge.
We found out from the landlord (rather reluctantly), that the original owner (or his wife), I can't remember - had died tragically in the bathtub. This came up in conversation when he was again, fixing something in the house, and we asked him about the history of the house. We didn't tell him about the things that had gone on - but I now wonder whether he may have had an idea about things.
Anyway, we had it figured that there were enough spirits in this household, and we didn't want to disturb any of them! So we carried on, trying to live with the paranormal - even going to the extent of saying "Hello, how are you?!" any time we heard a creak or felt the temperature go awry. We felt completely dumb about it - but we figured if we tried to remain friendly, everything would be all right.
Eventually, one of my roomates and I started discussing moving out. Her school term was ending, and it was time for us to move on. Besides, things were a little unsettling and the one roomate was still not over her grieving.
It was a nice day, and we were doing the usual "Saturday stuff," when suddenly things started happening with a vengeance.
I think it was after supper and we were watching television in the living room. We heard a loud "thud" from upstairs which was loud enough to shake us off of the couch ... a little bit of history - "thud" sounds had become a recent addition to the usual creaks, etc. but this sounded like someone had dropped a very heavy weight.
We ran upstairs to check it out - and there was nothing. Nothing had moved - nothing had dropped. We went back downstairs when we started to hear successive noises - thuds, doors slamming, you name it - we heard it.
My friend turned off the television - and we both agreed to go upstairs, as calmly as we could, and go into my bedroom (which was the largest) - and sit and wait and try to chill out. It was warm in my room, so I turned the fan on.
We were still hearing noises, but then the fan in my room started whirring faster and faster, to the point where I leapt to the outlet to take out the plug (believe me, it was whirring to the point where I thought it was going to fly on its own!). As I was doing this, my alarm clock (I had an old-fashioned clock with the bells on top) plunged to the floor making a smashing sound - and I mean it plunged. We were so involved with the fan that we didn't see it drop. My roomate went to pick it up and there was a large dent in it. Now, my windowsill is only three feet from the ground - so whatever force knocked my clock to the floor was strong enough to dent it. You couldn't drop it normally from that height and get a dent the size that we saw.
Then the bedroom light started to flicker - softly at first, then very quickly. Well, that was enough to get my roomate and myself out of my room and down the stairs, out the front door and onto the front porch! Whatever was in our house was now making its presence very clear.
So before things got any worse - My roomy and I called her brother for help - and when he arrived he wouldn't go in the house. Now, this was about midnight or 1:00 in the morning, so we just stayed on the porch until morning, and then went back in and packed our clothes as quickly as we could. We had to leave our furniture behind until we could give our landlord official notice, but for all intent and purpose - we were gone.