Added December 1, 2003
Poltergeists and Shadows
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Sindy, Iceland, 1992,
info@ghostvillage.com
I tend to tell myself that matters like these do not exist, but there
are advents in my life that can't be explained by any logic. In 1992, my
parents moved to my grandfather's farm, but he had given up his business
and moved away a few years ago. The house had therefore been deserted
for a long time and there had been rumors in the neighborhood about a
haunting in that house for decades -- we just didn't believe them.
Our first night there, we all woke up because of some noise that emerged
from downstairs. We all got out of our rooms, but when we went to look
there was nothing. "It was probably the wind," my mother said, and we
all went back to bed. Nothing happened the rest of the night, but every
night from that point on there was something going on in the house.
In the coming weeks we could barely sleep because of whispering voices,
doors opening or closing, footsteps, and all kinds of bangs on the
walls. Even with the furnace turned as high as possible, parts of the
house were always freezing and I always felt that there was something
watching me. We all felt horrible living there, but my father just
wouldn't move. Even though he admitted there was a problem... I really
hated this place.
One night though, things turned more aggressive. Because we had just moved
in, we had yet to put pictures on our walls. My mother had just been
finding places for them so they were scattered around the house. In the
hallway she had decided to hang a picture of a butterfly I had made as a
child. She placed it on top of a big cupboard in the hallway, because my
father was supposed to put a hook for it on the wall. That night, I
desperately needed to go to the toilet and started my way through the
hallway. As I passed the cupboard, that picture was suddenly thrown off
of it, so close to my head that it made a scratch on my forehead. It
ended up hitting the opposite wall, the glass shattered all around. My
parents woke up by the bang, and only when I saw them come, could I
start to scream. My mother tried to explain it by draft... but as far as
I know, drafts can´t possibly do this. A couple of years later, my baby
brother's behavior got very odd. He refused to go to sleep and began
talking about some woman he used to call "the dead mother." Note that he
was only two and a half and didn't have a clue about anything.
Strangers that would drive past our house often thought they saw
something shadowy on the road in front of them, but it always
disappeared when they blinked.
I finally moved away when I was 16 years old. I had been living there
for five years and by each year that passed, I hated it more. Now I
never go there, and hope I'll never have to.
