This story takes place in Murwillumbah, New South Wales. The house my mother and step father owned, was an old doctor's place built in the late twenties. It was a nice enough house - three bedrooms, two dunnies, a large kitchen/dining area and a living room. Though I didn't live with my parents, I visited them when I could. At this stage, I had two weird things happen to me but those other stories for other times. My mum told me that she kept seeing a little old woman standing at the bottom of her bed looking rather peeved off at something. There was one room in the house that would creep me out...there was something about it. Anyway, it was Christmas Eve 1988, and I was up from Sydney. I had just come back from a party, but I wasn't drunk. It was 1am when I crawled in to bed, and wasn't asleep for more than a half hour when something hit my feet. It felt like someone hitting me with a walking stick. I woke up and found myself looking at a little old man dressed in tartan, like a golfer would wear, pointing with his stick as if he was telling me to go. Then he turned and faded into the woodwork with me shouting, "Hey, don't go, I wanna talk to you!" I told my mum the next morning and she nodded her head. "Yeah, I've seen him every now and then," she said. Sometimes I would see shadows like someone walking by the glass pane across the kitchen, but there would be no one there. Like I said: nice house, weird vibes.

Submitted from: Murwillumbah, New South Wales, Australia