Inspired by UNIS’s Secret Ghost Story Club, here’s my own true tale of living inside a century-old house where cupboards never stayed shut, figurines took flight, and the ghost of a widow made herself known. Strange orbs and tense encounters turned my skepticism into belief.
Mabuhay Evters and Lovies!
UNIS is now in the Philippines, and I hope they have an excellent time with fans! I also hope Gehlee and Elie get some time with family and friends before jet setting again to China. 🇨🇳
Amidst their travels, the latest UNIS video “Secret Ghost Story Club🤫 | PART 01” dropped, and I was inspired to finally put my own haunting experience into words.
Here's the UNIS video for context. Part 2 is coming and I can't wait!
It was summer, and my friends invited me to move in with them. The old house where they lived was being used by college students on all three floors. It was at least a hundred years old, with so few upgrades that nights felt colder and the air heavier than any normal home should.
I took some screenshots from Google Maps to show you the real house. I hope the authenticity adds to the creepy vibe!
Living on the main floor were me, my friend, and his girlfriend. In the basement, a solitary college girl rarely seen. She was so elusive, her presence felt almost spectral. And above us, two partiers who turned almost every weekend into a beer bash. We could often hear the "thump thump thump" of their feet.
The house itself set the mood. Loose, creaking floorboards warned you of every misstep. From the sag, you learned where to step and where to avoid your feet. Old wiring left us worried about blowing fuses. Run too many appliances and the lights went out. There was always a draft, no matter how tightly you closed the windows.
I hadn’t even been there a month before the weirdness started. Cupboard doors in the kitchen would be flung wide open whenever I entered. I’d close them, only to find them open again. My room being between my friends and the kitchen, I would purposefully listen for sounds they were going to the kitchen, but it was total silence. Something else was opening the doors.
Sometimes, my friends’ shelves full of intricately-placed figurines erupted in chaos: one, then another would leap down as if thrown by invisible hands. They were too high up for the cat to disturb. My friends took pictures of the figurines on the floor as proof.
Alone in my room, it felt like some presence hovered. Sometimes curious, sometimes cautious, always cold. Was it watching, wondering if I was friend or foe? Was I imagining the whole thing? The feeling was persistent, sometimes stronger at night, sometimes fading if I tried to sleep or play music. Like the spirit was trying to figure me out.
Eventually, I asked my friends about the house’s story. The answer gave me a chill but it's what I already suspected: the house belonged to an old widow, who spent nearly her whole life within its walls before dying there. “She’s haunting it,” they said. “Not ready to move on.”
The basement’s tenant rarely emerged, but she was part of another mystery. Through the small window into her space, my friends would spot something inexplicable. A floating blue orb of light, moving silently around. Was it the widow’s spirit? Or something even older? The stories about orbs came back to me. How people have seen them in haunted places, and how their color might have different meanings.
I dug up more information on ghost orbs. According to paranormal lore, a blue orb often symbolizes a spirit that is calm, protective, or communicative. A gentle presence rather than a malevolent one. Some believe blue orbs are signs of spiritual guides or the souls of departed loved ones trying to reach out.
I guess a cranky old woman who likes young people but doesn't want to move on and is afraid of being kicked out classifies as a benevolent spirit. Still though, I wanted her gone.
Here's a link to learn more about orbs with alleged pictures: [https://hauntedpubsinnorthampton.weebly.com/orbs.html]
One night, after yet another cupboard mess and a flurry of figurine crashes, I lost my patience. “Move on!” I commanded the ghost. Instantly, a thick sense of anger filled the house, and all the lights flickered madly. The noise upstairs stopped, and I felt a sense of existential dread.
My friend begged me to stop provoking the widow. With a deep sigh, I took it back. This wasn't my house after all and I should respect their wishes. Out loud, I told the ghost she could stay. Instantly, the air calmed, the flickering stopped, and the haunting eased. The cupboards and figurines calmed down, and the feelings of angst dissipated. It felt as if the spirit had heard me, weighed my words, and decided to let me stay as long as I offered respect.
From then on, I felt her presence shift from suspicion to reluctant acceptance. I wasn’t fully at home, but I was tolerated. By the end of my six months, I’d learned the haunted rhythms of that house and the strange peace that comes from learning to share it.
EverAfters, would you stay in a place where the past refuses to fade?
– GTT (Gehlee Tunes Team)
“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” - Matthew 11:28 🕊️
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