I was in sixth grade. We used to move a lot back in those days. I've lived in six different places so far, and what I hated about it was not about leaving friends behind (I went to the same catholic all-girls school and I never made friends with neighbors. Too many dog-eaters and gossips); I hated packing.
Anyway, we lived in a house in project 4. I can't put the entire address here, but it was near Kalantiaw. It was a small house -three tiny bedrooms, one bathroom, and one outhouse, a kitchen next to the dining room, a living room and a veranda. The house also had weird wall carvings. There was one on the veranda wall: a Mindanao scene with Muslim princesses and servants holding umbrellas over their heads and whatnot. Another one in the dining room depicted the Last Supper (hardy har) and another one near the bathroom depicted two tribal urns. We lived there for about two years, and then my mom decided that the house had gotten too small for us, so she decided to rent a house in Pasig instead.
A lot of funny things happened that day. A lot of funny things happened at that house, actually. Once, we had a caterpillar infestation. I guess it doesn't sound all that weird, but our house didn't even have a proper garden. What we had were an old tree stump that held a coconut cup with an orchid in it, clumps of aloe vera and a small patch of caribou grass that passed as our front lawn. The caterpillars were everywhere for days, maybe weeks. Our neighbours didn't have this problem, but we did.
The day we were going to move, the moving truck didn't make it to our house because it had engine trouble. We called out for another truck, which also didn't make it to our house, because of a minor accident en route which involved electrical wires. My dad joked about how someone or something didn't want us to leave.
On moving day, my sister and I were the only ones in the house. My other sisters hated packing and had disappeared before we could ask them to help. Sunny and I were in her bedroom, tying up books in bundles. The bedroom had a window that faced an old, disused shed next to the outhouse. I've never been inside that shed. It was always kept locked. We were almost finished tidying up when we heard noises coming from the shed. It sounded like random things were falling to the ground: plates, pieces of metal, etc. My sister and I looked at each other, scared, and she suggested that we sing a gospel song to drive whatever was making the noise away (I was a Roman Catholic in those days, and so was she. Still is). We started singing, and trying to finish tidying up as fast as we could. I was tying a piece of twine around a bunch of books when we both heard it: someone, or something, was singing along with us, and the voice was coming from the shed. The padlocked, disused shed. The voice sounded amused, and it knew the words to the song. Remember, no one was in the house except me and my sister. My dad was sitting near the gate. My sister and I ran for the door as fast as we could.
After a few hours in the sunshine, I felt brave enough to go back inside and finish cleaning up. I don't know where my sister went; maybe she joined my other sisters. Anyway, I walked back in, broom and dustpan in hand, and walked through the living room to the dining room. The moment I got there, I heard another noise: like somebody was breaking dishes and throwing silverware against the metal sink. I summoned all my courage and peeked into the kitchen. There was nothing there and the sink was empty. I ran back outside and didn't go back in alone.
I've never been back to see the house. Last I heard, somebody had built another floor and was using the house as a rehearsal studio.
I don't know if you believe my story or not, but I have no reason to lie. I'm 25 and I have a kid now, and I'm no longer as starved for attention as I was back in my teen years. Besides, I may have been a lot of things at any point in my life, but I was never a liar.
Cheers.
P.s. If you live/d in project 4, Q.C., Philippines and you think you may know the house I'm talking about, drop me a line.
Hope you liked my story. I have more.
Source: http://www.yourghoststories.com/real-ghost-story.php?story=10022
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