The week my mother passed away, I went to stay with family. My room was the spare room. First night there I lay down, few minutes passed and my neck is scratched by what felt like a finger inside the mattress.
Now I have my own theory on this: I don't think it was my Mother because she wouldn't want to scare me like that. I believe it was a cynical ploy by whatever was inhabiting the house to cash in on a sad event.
As a side note, my cousin had become freaked out sleeping downstairs and moved upstairs to her mum's room.
I had always been very afraid in the house as a child; I'd often spend time there alone when I became bored of the pub quiz and I'd be given a key.
The kitchen window is 260 degrees around and it felt as though there were eyes in every pane. A builder staying downstairs in the conservatory heard a loud bang on the window late at night, and my uncle would be aware of someone walking through the gate whilst he boiled the kettle.
Even without the paranormal events, the house had a tangible bad vibe-as though the previous inhabitant was a thoroughly unpleasant person. That's the end. My story came from a house in Leicestershire, England.
Anonymous submission from Leicestershire, England