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Cythiana House by obiwan [Reviews - 1]

Subject: WWW Form Submission
Date: Wed, 27 Sep 2006 17:34:39 -0700 (PDT)
Name: Katelyn
Location: Cynthiana, Kentucky

There is a large brick house that sits on Battlegrove Av. in the "better" section of my relatively small hometown of Cynthiana. Nobody ever lives in that house very long, even though it is spacious, and though being at least 80 years old, if not older, is in very good condition. Not many people in town know about this house because people don't normally walk around claiming to see ghosts. (I guess Im not normal.) I know this house is haunted through two episodes of experiences.

My first contact with the ghost was when my aunt lived in the house. I was around 4 or so and the scariest place was the basement. My aunt babysit me very frequently while my mother worked and i had to accompany her to the basement everytime a load of laundry was done, as the washer and drier were down there. There happened to be an old manequin in the basement at the bottom of the steps, assumably left by a distant previous owner. For some reason, that manequin would move ever so slightly on it's own when i was looking at it. Of course my aunt coddled me and carried me up and down the stairs whenever the occasion merited a trip to the laundry room. I think she believed me. One night i was staying the night and sleeping upstairs. I woke up in the night to piano playing. There was a piano in the house, left by another set of previous owners, but nobody in my family could play. I was too scared to investigate as i was a little kid.

My aunt and her family didn't stay there very long, despite the fact that the house was her ideal dream home. Apparently i wasn't the only one in the family to experience the freaky stuff. My aunt got frustrated when she couldn't find kitchen utensils and blamed it on her 2 pre-teen children, who still to this day deny it. My cousin who was about 13 at the time, never felt comfortable in the house. She claimed that she always felt like someone was around her. At night her covers were sometimes snatched and her clothing would go missing when she laid it out, only to find it later where she left it. Everyone had heard the piano at some time or another. When her male friends and boyfriends came over, they always said afterward that her house didn't seem very welcoming, when everyone else who visited loved the place. The fact that the ghost whom we called "George" seemed to have some unholy attraction to my cousin, was enough for my aunt to leave. (they left the piano there)

The other story concerning the house and my family happened when I was around 13 myself. My father (brother of the aunt who lived in the house), as a private contractor, was hired by the current owners (there had been many since my aunt)to fix some drywall issues in the house. Him, my grandfather, and dads main worker went to the house the first day and started working on some hole patching. THe next day they returned to the house to finish up and replace the trim. When they walked into the garage, where they were storing their tools, they noticed that all of the patching tools were unwrapped from their plastic wrapping and the plaster from the previous day, leaving the tools dried and crusty. They had to be washed and dad blamed his worker. The next day my grandfathers favorite hammer went missing. It was found later in the day, with the sharp points imbedded into the wood floors. When they were finishing up the trim, all of the brand new saw blades dissapeared. My father was very upset because he had planned to finish up that night and the hardware store was already closed for the evening. He angrily decided there was nothing he could do until the morning and went home. WHen the crew arrived the next morning, all three, brand new sawblades were imbedded into the floor in the foyer, directly as you walk in the house. It was almost as if they had been thrown like a knife. They finished the job and left.

Nobody was living in the house when he was working on it, and the owners had given the only set of keys to my dad. So how do you explain that.

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