Bought at house at the edge of the neighbourhood, living there while renovating to flip… and then one night.

This is my third spooky encounter – that’s all of them so far, but I’m only 40 so we’ll see. The others were corroborated – this one is not. This one was just me. I’d honestly never been so scared.

I quit my job in the big city (let’s say Toronto), and bought a house on the outskirts of a wealthy neighbourhood in my home town. We were zoned inside the wealthy neighbourhood more as a technicality – good property value. 80 year old home, galvanized pipes, knob and tube, pink tub and toilet – 1960’s linoleum as a kitchen counter. Basement was a real dungeon. Got a good price.

I ripped out the bathroom and kitchen and did a full update. Ran new electrical, new plumbing, new floors, new roof. Took a while. I was living there for about three months during these renovations – the plan was to rent the place out.

First week of November and I’m still finishing up details in the house – still living there because it’s untenanted. I don’t have internet apart from a mobile hot spot – I’m upstairs in the master bedroom watching a film on my laptop. I hear a thump and a distinct voice downstairs.

It’s 11 pm, November in Canada. Dark and cold.

I hear more voices. Two voices. Not trying to be subtle, either. I looked out the window, wondering if they could be coming from outside – but it sounded like they were in the kitchen.

This is when I was 37 – l’d given thought to how I’d act in a home invasion – I must say it feels different when you’re alone. It feels terrifying.

Nonetheless, I got out of bed and I deliberately walked heavily and slammed open the bedroom door. I stomped down the stairs into the kitchen and shouted: ‘you gotta leave. Whoever you are – you need to get out of here.’

I flipped on the lights in the kitchen. There was no one. I walked into the dining room and living room and flipped on the lights. No one. Then I heard – very distinctly – voices coming from the basement.

I went down in that basement – holding a goddamn kitchen knife – screaming at whoever it was. Telling them to get out: telling them they were going to get hurt.

The basement was a dungeon. I had to feel around and pull a few cords to get the lights on. I reluctantly looked around, but there was no one there. The next thing I heard rang out louder than anything previous. Floor shaking THUMP THUMP THUMP – sounded like the stairs to the second floor.

From basement, it sounded like Shaquille O’Neil just stomped up the stairs one floor above.

I didn’t go upstairs until day broke. Weird as it was – I had my kitchen knife and I’d checked the basement. Dungeon or not, it felt safe – so I stayed. Morning came, I went upstairs. Nothing was taken. Nothing was moved.

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