Antigone wrote: 

Okay.
 
 
I've been hearing noises at night. But who doesn't, in an apartment, right? Buildings settle. Sound travels—so your neighbor's noise might sound like it's inside your unit. Whatever.
 
 
But then Ceili "tracks" stuff with her eyes when there are no flying insects, no shadows and no spiderwebs.   
 
 
Last night, there was a distinct tinny clattering in the kitchen. Ceili raised up her head and her ears went back. It really sounded like it was in the kitchen this time. I was too tired and lazy to go check it out.
 
This morning, there were two big puddles of water far away from each other on the kitchen floor. No ceiling leaks, no sink pipe links (I checked)...but the water in the aluminum pan that was making a "moat" for Ceili's food dish (Got damn sugar ants) was gone. Suspecting a leak in it (it's just the throw-away kind) I filled it with water and examined it for holes. Nothing leaked. The water held tight.
 
 
There were also no trails from the puddles to that pan. Sure, they could've dried up a little overnight, but there was SO MUCH water in two separate spots, in two different directions (wouldn't it have ALL flowed the same way if the floor sloped slightly) that would've spread itself thin if it had drained from that pan and traveled across the floor.
 
 
Again - that pan had no holes or leaks and there were no pipe leaks or ceiling leaks.
 
 
It was as if someone or something took some handfuls and dumped them.      
 
 
Good riddance. Hopefully the new place has pest control and NO sugar ants.          

 
 
EDIT: I doubt it was Ceili - she hasn't ever messed with the pan and has been using it for a month, now - and in her older years has been sleeping all night by my side

 Alexandra wrote: 
You really need to tell us the details, you know.

 sirdroseph wrote:  

 

 
 
 

 
It's probably the ghost of some dead hooker that OD'd. The cop that came to do a report on my broken car window said that complex used to get ALL kinds of sordid calls and crime before the current owner fixed it up and screened people better. 
 
 
There's a website where you can find out if anyone died in your house/apartment, but it costs money. Forget that.  

 Alexandra wrote: 

Hope it is not one of those that follows you!

There's been some "activity" in this place I'm moving out of tomorrow, the most bizarre of which happened last night. I would love to go into detail, to let all the nay-sayers see if they can come up with an explanation for the unexplainable........however, it's my last night and I really don't give a f*ck.
 
 
 
Just...........good riddance.    

 olivertwist wrote: 
LOL thank you!

 triskele wrote: 
I probably react more strongly to these things than I should, but at this point, I'm not irritated by it than anything else: I really was looking forward to living in a "clean" house! I look forward to hearing more of your tales as you spend more time in your new place, though!!

 MsJudi wrote: 
Spooky. I love a real-life ghost story, but I hope the spooky happenings cease... OUT, OUT ghosts! Let Judi enjoy her new house in peace!

 MsJudi wrote: 
maybe you had a psychic moment and you "heard" her texting you?

we've had some odd stuff here, too....but this is a very old house with lots of families having lived here.  nothing scary, though. just..odd.

GDI. Remember how excited I was to be moving into a new house and away from the supernatural crap that had plagued us in Lake Jackson? So much for my vaunted peace and quiet.

The first month was quiet, and still... absolutely no indication of anything but the two of us in this house, not even mild, oogy feelings.

Then the knocking started. Two separate times, in the middle of the night, three loud (though polite) knocks, as if someone was asking nicely if they could come in. The first time I was asleep and chalked it up to a dream. The second time I was fully awake and sure of what I'd heard. Now I hate going to sleep when Greg's gone for fear it happens when he's not here to snuggle up against.

Then a towel I'd used in the kitchen moved- still folded- into the living room in front of the TV. Stupid, puzzling- but not scary.

Then today, a loud voice. I was standing in the studio at the sink, waiting for my housekeeper who was due in about twenty minutes. I was cleaning brushes, water running loudly, my back to the space. I heard my name roared from behind me, in the corner of the garage, close to the roll-up doors. A voice, but not. I nearly wet myself. Turned off the water, spun around. Nothing. Started walking towards the front of the garage, didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Called out, "Hello??" No answer (thank ghod- I might have stroked out). Then it occurred to me- maybe it was Mari-Jo. Maybe she was early, had tried the door bell, couldn't get me, and had gone to the garage door and shouted my name. Maybe it had sounded so weird and rumbly because the water had been running. I reached for the garage door opener to roll the doors up and a text buzzed in my pocket. Her text, "I'm here." Thank goodness, it had just been the combo of Mari-Jo shouting and the water running! Rolled the door up and apologized to Mari-Jo for making her stand in the driveway and shout for me. "I didn't shout for you, I texted you, did you get it? Sorry I'm early..."

"You didn't shout."

"No, just texted."

"You didn't stand outside the door and shout??"

"No! I just texted! Are you ok??"

I wanted to fucking pass out. Shit, not again.

 hippiechick wrote: 
http://youtu.be/YGGohTPuOeQ

 JrzyTmata wrote: 
No wonder I have days when I feel like I am dragging something along with me.

 Manbird wrote: 
In Soviet Russia, dentures take nap then find you on floor.

 oldviolin wrote: 
I wish that weirdo would learn to talk right. 

 meower wrote: Luke: There's something not right here... I feel cold. Death. 
Yoda: <points to a cave opening beneath a large tree> That place... is strong with the dark side of the Force. A domain of evil it is. In you must go. 
Luke: What's in there? 
Yoda: Only what you take with you. 

 oldslabsides wrote: 
Hey, I resemble that remark.