A very spooky ghost story courtesy of UK celebrity journalist Anne Diamond

While this is a pretty detailed and descriptive example of an ADC (after death communication) it’s really NOT all that unusual to hear very clear and convincing stories like this one if you travel in spiritual circles for any length of time.

What do YOU believe? Check out the full story at the link below! Enjoy 🙂

But, as we stood on the doorstep and I fumbled for the front door key, the door opened and the smiling little white-haired old lady was there welcoming us in, just as before. She apologised for the place looking so bare and unfriendly. She beamed when I introduced my mother, and then added: ‘You know the layout, I’ll leave you to show yourselves around . . .’ With that, she shuffled off, a thin, pale figure, towards the kitchen.

The light was fading, I remember, so my mother and I decided to have a look at the upstairs rooms first, and work our way down. The rooms seemed huge without any furniture and the whole place echoed eerily. That was when I tried to switch the lights on, and realised the electricity had been turned off.

We made our way down the stairs and my mother called out to the lady, to ask if she had a torch. But we couldn’t find her anywhere. I remember thinking how odd it was that she’d let us in, and then abandoned us in the dark.

Never mind, we thought, we’ll have a quick peek at the downstairs rooms, and let ourselves out.
‘We bolted for the front door and only felt safe in the car’

Even though there were no curtains in any of the tall, sash windows, there was very little light to see by. Outside, those massive fir trees cast long shadows, and the privacy I’d so valued suddenly became a bit gloomy.

My mum sat down and sighed: ‘We can’t really see anything now, but I can tell it’s a wonderful house. Big, solid, sensible, lots of rooms: you could do a lot with this place.’

And as she chattered on, we both suddenly became aware that she was, indeed, sitting on something. Yet the room, like the rest of the house, had seemed utterly empty just a few minutes ago.

My mother sprang up – and we both peered at the large object she’d been sitting on.

In the dark, it seemed like a large wardrobe lying on its back in the middle of the living room. ‘I don’t like this,’ my mum whispered. ‘It’s the shape of a coffin.’

Neither of us are superstitious, and we both instinctively know that most ‘inexplicable’ things can be explained somehow, and that imaginations run wild in the dark. But we both bolted for the front door, and only felt safe again once in the car, driving away.

Next morning, I called around to the estate agent to return the keys and explain why I’d left without closing and locking the gate.

The agent was adamant: no one could possibly have been there to let us in, he said. There were no neighbours with keys. I had the only set.

He explained that the old lady I had met the first time, the owner, had died quite suddenly, and her children had cleared out the place and put it back on the market.

That had all happened weeks ago. She was dead and buried. No way could it have been her who let us in yesterday……



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