I wouldn't consider this a real scary story but it is something that might give one pause, especially when you're in the situation as I was.
I was in my early twenties, just out on my own, recently married and had just given birth to my first child, my son. My husband and I didn't have a lot of money at the time and we had been renting a small studio apartment in town but when the baby came along we needed the extra space and plus our apartment was three floors up a very narrow flight of steps and the laundry room was in the basement. My husband didn't like the idea of me, being a new mom, going up and down those stairs and neither of us felt comfortable with my leaving the baby alone in the apartment while I did the wash, so we were in the market for a new place.
Now, as luck would have it, my great-aunt, who was getting up in years, decided that her family home was too large for her to maintain on her own and so she decided to move to a smaller, assisted living apartment that was not only closer to town, her doctor, and her children, but also wheelchair accessible which was something she desperately needed at this point in her life. She wasn't really wanting to sell the family home though. Her parents had owned it before her and over the years many of our family had grown up in that home, my mother in particular who lived there with my grandmother after my father had passed away. My grandmother had also lived there with my great-aunt until her death recently. This was another reason that my aunt wanted to move. She had lived her entire life with family around and had helped to care for my grandmother and now, being alone, she felt the grief of losing her only sibling stronger when in the house.
She knew of my need to find a larger home and since this house was out in the country, had a large yard, and was in a pretty decent, low crime area, she thought it would be perfect for a young couple with children. All she asked was that we keep the house up, and pay her a small amount of rent each month which was very generous and well within our budget. I was also more than a little excited to be living in my families home, seeing the place my mother had grown up. There were so many good memories associated with that house and I was pleased to have my own son there and any future children that we might have. We packed up and moved in as soon as we were able and once we were settled in the house I felt this wonderful feeling of peace and security wash over me. It really felt like home, it was familiar and there was something there, lingering just beneath the surface of all the years and generations of kids coming and going that really opened up to me and welcomed me with love and almost a sense of belonging. It was as if the house itself were saying welcome home Eveie, we've missed you.
I was in heaven. There was a first floor laundry room, a huge master bed room, a small room for a nursery and even a guest room. The kitchen was large and spacious and for the first time ever I actually had a dining room. The house had two and a half baths and a sun room towards the back that looked over a flower garden. I knew at once that I would be spending a good amount of time in that garden because I loved the outdoors and I loved to grow things.
The first week that I was there I did notice a few things that I felt were a bit odd. Lights would turn on and off by themselves, doors would be open when I sure that I had closed them. I moved around some of the furniture that my aunt had left and when I came home it would be moved back to its original place. Okay, I thought, who ever is hanging around here doesn't want me rearranging their things. No big deal. I didn't feel anything negative in the house and who ever was there was family so why should I worry?
That first week I also noticed a smell that I was certain was not anything that I had brought into the house. It was a perfumery smell like lilacs mixed with vanilla. The smell seemed a bit familiar to me though I couldn't quite place it. It was a nice smell so I didn't think much of it. Shortly after noticing the smell I had also started to hear what sounded like a lady singing. I know that song, I thought to myself, and I tried really hard to remember where I had heard it before. I followed the sound of the voice up the stairs one day and realized that it was coming from my sons room. As I walked into the room the singing stopped but I knew that someone was there because I could see the rocking chair next to the picture window rocking slowly back and forth. This made me wonder and so I called my mother.
I explained to her about the smell and the song and asked her if she knew the song and where it had come from. I used to sing that to you as a baby, my mother told me. Your grandmother sang it to me and her mother sang it to her. She also explained that the scent I'd noticed seemed close to a certain perfume and hand lotion that her mother, my grandmother, had always used. Mystery solved, I though, apparently grandma had stayed behind in her family home and was now singing to my son as she had done with her own children.
I was even more certain that my grandmother was still there because a few weeks later a friend of mine came by when I wasn't home. She had knocked on the door but gotten no answer but noted that an older woman with white hair, neatly pinned in a bun had smiled and waved to her from an upstairs window. I knew at once that that was my grandmother and I felt really happy that she was still there, looking out for her family, and passing on the songs that she had heard from her own mother.
