The following was sent in by one of our readers:
My mother and stepfather bought a house outside of London, Ontario when I was young. To the best of my knowledge, it's a turn of the century farm house with what appears to be a collapsed barn with thatched roofing near the edge of the property. My room was the second largest with windows facing east and south and should have been quite bright and cheery. As I grew up, I spent a lot of time in the room and often felt as if there were someone sitting just at my hip. The presence wasn't threatening.
A few years later things began getting stranger. Items would vanish from a countertop and appear in the most unlikely places. The attic had been a huge unfinished storage space when we moved in, though my stepfather soon turned it into an office for his small business. We began hearing pumping from upstairs and footsteps that would move quickly one way then slowly back again. When my brother was visiting he used the office for hours accessing the internet. During that time he claimed to have heard breathing next to his ear and mumbling sounds. The office space has since been turned into a family room but my brother still won't go up there alone.
The strangest of all perhaps was the number of times my mother and I were both awakened in the middle of the night by the smell of lemon cake baking downstairs. The kitchen would inevitably be dark and empty when we went to investigate, though the smell would return the moment we began back up the stairs.
My mother is often alone with my younger siblings and related a cute story. The ghosts appears to understand the hassle associated with raising small children and keeping a huge house clean all at once. The light in the front hall had burned out. As the staircase winds downward the second floor, it leaves a large space. The light is JUST outside of the second floor's railing, so changing it means balancing precariously over the railing on a chair. My mother dragged a chair over and then went downstairs to find a new light bulb. Upon her return, the old bulb had vanished and a new one was burning brightly in its place.
We'd like to thank the reader for this report.