When I was six, my family moved into a new house, only a block from our old one. Within days of the move, things began happening. Obvious things. My parents, being very religious and skeptical were quick to dismiss every flicker of the lights and every bump in the night. The only one of my three sisters who ever reported anything to me was my little sister, Morgan. To this day she still remembers odd happenings in that house.

When we had moved in, the first thing that started (that I remember clearly) was the lights constantly flickering. In any normal house, this is usually the cause of the wind or some external source. In our house, there was never a wind. When the lights flickered, they never flickered in unison, but each bulb would flicker independently of the other. One lamp or fixture would flicker while the others in the room gave a steady light. We would come home in the early afternoon to find the lights on on more than one occasion, knowing full well they hadn't been on when we left. We often heard whispers in the basement, often accompanied by strong feelings of another presence in the room.

However, here is the story of the most bizarre incident by far....

On afternoons after school, Morgan and I were often alone in the house. Our older sisters had extra curricular activities to attend to and we would amuse ourselves by watching TV in the basement. One afternoon, I'd say it was probably about 4:00, we were watching TV as usual when we started hearing very clear, pronounced footsteps on the floor above, in the living room. We looked at each other; we hadn't heard anyone come home. When anyone comes in, the door must be slammed behind them or it wont close. So we would have heard someone come in.

Anyway, we went up the stairs to investigate. We stuck our heads in the living room and there was no one there. We knew we hadn't imagined it; we had both heard it.

We shrugged it off and returned to the basement. It wasn't one minute later before we heard the footsteps again, this time louder than before. Again we bolted up the stairs and saw no one.

Now we were getting freaked out.

So we went back the basement. About 30 seconds later, the footsteps came again, this time louder than before, almost like someone was bouncing a basketball on the floor. We ran up the stairs only to find the room empty yet again. This time I decided I was going to investigate further. Morgan was to scared to accompany me, so I left her at the top of the stairs and walked in the living room. I looked all over and didn't find anything.

I turned to leave and I noticed on the carpet a large, fresh, defined boot print. This was odd since my parents had a strict "no shoes in the house rule", and no one in the family wore boots. We freaked out and hid in the basement until someone came home. The footsteps did not continue. We had our dad look around in the house, but there was no one there.

After some research a few months later, I found out that there is a collapsed mine directly under several of the houses in that neighborhood. Could the boot print be from a miner who was lost in the collapse? The whole town was a mining settlement in the early 1900s, and most of the land is undermined.