Sean david
It  looked  normal  enough,  my childhood  home. If  you  ignored  the  odd  color  scheme.
Whoever  lived  there  before  had  chose  peach-colored  bricks  and  painted  the wooden  siding  blue.
We  knew  something  strange  must  have  happened  there,  why  else  would  the  owners  have  left  it  so  suddenly?
We  took  a  picture  before  we  moved  in.  A  sort  of  before  and  after  type I suppose. 
Odd  thing  is  although  everyone  was  outside,  a  girl's face  could  be  seen  peeking  from  behind  a  curtain.
That  was  just  the  start  of  the strangeness. The  night  we  had  finished  moving  in all the furniture,  I  was  walking  down  the  hallway  and  half-noticed  my sister  had  left  her  door  open.  I  saw her  inside  her  room, climbing  a  tall  bookshelf.
When  I  reached  the  living  room, my  eyes  rolled when  I  heard  the  thunderous  boom  of  the  shelf  falling  over.
My  mother  asked  me  what  the  noise  was,  when  I   told  her,  she  stared  at  me  and said  "But  we  don't  have  any  bookshelves." 
I  went  to  my  sister's  room,  she  was  standing  against  the  wall,  her face ashen.
The  bookshelf  was  nowhere  to  be  found.
To  this  day  she  refuses  to  talk  about  what  happened. 
My  mom had  been  tucked  in  by  invisible  hands.
Every  night  we  would  hear  heavy  footsteps  going  down  the  hall. Suddenly  smell cigars  or  brewing  coffee. Both of which  no one in the  house touched.
To top it off, the day before  we moved I  woke up  in the  middle  of  the  night   and  found  myself  levitating  a  good  two  feet  off  of  the  bed.
We moved not out of fear, we never felt that we were unwelcome. We ran out of money  and  could  no longer  afford  the rent.
The  family  that  moved in made the mistake of renovating. Last we checked, the house was empty as they had moved  out  in a very big hurry.
Can't  imagine  why.
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tahira s r
i like the brevity of this story 
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