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One Crazy Trick For Selling A House: Don't List It as 'Slightly Haunted'

Illustration for article titled One Crazy Trick For Selling A House: Dont List It as Slightly Haunted

If you ever decide to put your house on the market, you might consider not disclosing the banshee who lives in the attic or the thing that lives in a bag in the basement. Or even any run-of-the-mill screams that happen precisely at 3 am. I don't know; I am not a real estate agent, but that sounds about right.

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A couple in Pennsylvania has discovered that listing a house as haunted seems to have the direct opposite effect of what one would want: ghost hunters will show up, serious buyers will not. Because, why would they? Why would anyone willingly buy a house that includes such features as banging doors, screaming, and ghostly visages in bathroom mirrors—the scariest place to see a ghost; agree/disagree? My house is one-hundred-percent not haunted and I still refuse to go into the laundry room after dark, even if it means I have to wear the same clothes the next day. Ain't no ghosts getting me!

And then there's this:

...then there was the guy who used to live there, who got in touch and told the couple that he found a human skull in the basement when he was a child. The wife says she barricaded that same basement door shut once because she claimed she heard the clicking of a cigarette lighter down below.

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A human skull. In the basement. The second most frightening place after the bathroom. Sorry, sellers: the best you can hope for at this point is that the bros from Ghost Adventures will show up and yell at the ghosts some. Although, that only seems to make the ghosts more angry and less congenial. That means more screaming.

Please share your stories of slight hauntings in the comments. I will go first: One time a ghost locked me out of the house while I was getting laundry. My partner insists that it was the wind and that I should keep my keys with me, but I know the truth.

Image via Shutterstock

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empressfoofypants
Esmerelda Foofypants

The anniversary of my dad's death is coming up, and you asked for stories of "slight hauntings," so I think I'll share this story again:

My dad killed himself when I was seventeen, and since that time, I have worn on my pinky finger the wedding band he gave to my mother when they got married (they divorced when I was two). I have very few of his belongings, and over time, this ring has come to embody my only remaining connection to him. For me, it symbolizes a time when his life was full of hope and happiness, and it's something I cling to. I never take it off. It's one of my most important possessions.

When I was in my early twenties, my mom wanted professional photos taken of me and my sister. It was a very windy, cold spring day, and while we were standing on the photographer's deck over the ocean, I moved my hand to brush my hair from my face. My fingers had shrunken from the cold, and the ring fell off my pinky, bounced across the deck, and dropped through a hole in the boards into the ocean. I was devastated.

We searched for it, and the photographer searched for it, repeatedly over the coming days and weeks. Countless times, I scoured the ground whenever the tide was out, but the ring was gone, swallowed up by the sea. Eventually, I had to give up, but it was a loss I was consciously aware of every single day.

About ten months later, I got a call out of the blue from the photographer. He told me he had no idea why, but he'd felt a sudden urge sweep over him to search for the ring one more time. He went outside, looked down, and there it was, glittering on the ground amidst the rocks and seaweed and mud and detritus.

Every hair on my body stood up, and my skin turned into one big goose pimple. I did some mental calculations and realized it was the anniversary, almost to the minute, of the last time I ever saw my father alive — the anniversary of the day he gave me his most precious possessions and said goodbye to me forever.