3 TRUE Disturbing New House Horror Stories

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I'm 53 years old and I'm married to my husband, who is in his mid-60s. We saved money for a long time to move to Mallorca, an island, as we wanted to find a nice house, like a villa or a beach house. To do this, we decided to visit Mallorca for a weekend a few times in 2017.

Our plan was to have a short vacation, about 2 or 3 days, near the beach. We would relax, eat good food, and in the mornings we would look for a house with the help of local real estate agents. The first time we went to Mallorca was not great, as we couldn't find a house we liked or that we could afford.

The things that looked interesting were too expensive. We wanted something affordable without hurting our savings too much because we still had a mortgage to pay in the UK. Our budget was around 150k to 180k, which wasn't too bad since there were some decent properties for sale in that price range.

During our second trip, a month later, we found more reasonable options. First, we looked at a big villa, but it was too spacious for just my husband and me. My husband was using a walking stick because he had recently had a hernia operation and had trouble walking for a while.

We needed a smaller place. Even though it fit our budget, we didn't want a lot of space. The second property we checked out was a connected house with two bedrooms.

It was made from some kind of marble-like material and it looked really impressive—much fancier than its actual price. It didn't have a garden, but it did have a garage for our car. Honestly, we weren't interested in having a garden.

We were there for the great weather, the experience, the community, the culture, and of course, the beach. And the weather! Oh, did I mention the weather?

It's absolutely amazing! The weather in Mallorca is incredible, and if you haven't been there, I highly recommend it. When we found the second property, everything went well.

The real estate agent guided us through the house, showing us all the rooms. It was small and comfortable—not too big like the villa. We weren't interested in having swimming pools, fancy movie rooms, or indoor gyms.

After all, we were getting close to retirement. My husband was almost retired while I still had nearly a decade of work left. Our plan was to come here for vacations once a year and then, when we both retired, sell our house in the UK and live in Mallorca permanently.

We were only there for about 5 minutes when my husband turned to me and said, "This is the one. " Everything about it just felt perfect. Our new place was almost right around the corner from the main street.

There were stores, shops, and a fresh market nearby. The fruit there was amazing! Have you ever tried a watermelon from Mallorca?

Or bananas, apples, pears, and berries? It felt like a wonderful place to be. So, we ended up buying the property.

It was listed for about 171k, but we haggled with the sellers and got the price down to 159k, which felt like a small miracle. I think the housing market wasn't too active at that time. We moved in for our first holiday there.

We planned a two-week vacation in 2018 because that's the longest time I could take off work back then. When we bought the property, it already had some old-fashioned furniture, like chairs, sofas, tables, and kitchen appliances. We only needed to buy bedding and some basic stuff like food.

We got coffee, tea, milk, sugar, and flour, plus some other things I needed for cooking and baking dinners. Sometimes, even though we usually went out for dinner, we enjoyed going to restaurants, even though they were a bit expensive. Things didn't start going wrong until our second visit.

The first visit went well; we didn't really pay attention to who lived nearby and we hadn't met our neighbors yet. We didn't have many friends in Mallorca except for the restaurant owners and managers we knew because we ate at their places regularly. But when we came back for the second trip, I noticed that the terrace property next to ours now had people in it.

I don't remember anyone being there during the first visit, or maybe there were people, but they must have been very quiet because I didn't notice them. The second time, though, things were different. It was like there was a noisy indoor football game happening next door—lots of shouting and bouncing balls.

There was a big family of eight people living in the small two-bedroom terrace house next to ours. “Oh no,” my husband Dave said as he turned to me while we were getting the key to enter our property. “These must be our new neighbors.

” We didn't know if they owned the house or if they were renting it. At that time, we hadn't talked to them yet, but we knew we'd have to get to know them if we were going to live next to them permanently in a few years. The first night and the whole second stay were terrible.

There were loud noises, banging on the walls, and lots of yelling, shouting, and screaming. It seemed like a big family to me, but I wasn't sure about their nationality. They might have been Turkish or maybe from some other place; I couldn't really tell.

I was thinking about what to do next. We definitely didn't want to call the police on our new neighbors and ruin our relationship with them, but we couldn't keep living like this. Our first day there was a nightmare.

We were so tired because of the noisy family next door. At first, my husband thought about talking to them, but how were we supposed to do that? We weren't very good at making friends or socializing, and this family seemed very different from us.

They spoke a different language and seemed to follow a different religion. On the second day, it became too much to bear. The evening came, and the yelling and screaming from their house just wouldn't stop.

So, Dave and I gathered our courage and went over to their door. When we knocked, everything inside their house suddenly went silent. It was a bit of a relief, but also quite unsettling.

Why did the noise and shouting stop so suddenly? It was like they were scared of whoever was at the door. After a little while, we heard them unbolting the door.

These old-style terrace houses had big wooden doors with stone handles. You could tell that someone was coming to the door, so they didn't ignore us, but they seemed a bit uneasy about our knock. The door opened, and a very small lady, about 4’10” tall, answered in a long dress.

I thought she was the one in charge of the family because I had never seen a husband around; it was always just her and the kids, ranging from about 4 or 5 years old to around 10 or 11. The noise from the kids had suddenly gone silent, as if they were holding their breath because their mom had opened the door. We were standing there, looking into her eyes, trying to find the courage to politely complain.

I was having trouble speaking, and my husband, Dave, who had suggested we talk to them, strangely went silent too. But the lady just stared straight into our eyes. She didn't answer right away, and it felt like she was trying to see into our souls.

After about 10 seconds of very uncomfortable silence, she said, "Okay," but before we could respond, she slammed the door and bolted it shut. I looked at Dave and thought, "Well, have we done it now? " He looked at me and said, "Okay," kind of making fun of her.

I chuckled a bit, but deep down, I was still uneasy about our new neighbor. I wondered why she and her whole family were here. Were they renting the place, using it for vacations, or living there permanently?

We went back to our place, and that night, we slept really well. The night before, we couldn't sleep because of all the noise, but since we spoke to them, the house next door had become very quiet. If anything, we were now the ones making more noise than them.

During our second visit, we didn't hear a single sound from our neighbors, but when we returned for the third trip, we found a terrible scene. We arrived at the airport pretty early, but we were still tired because we had to wake up at around 2:00 a. m.

in the UK to catch our flight. When we got back to our village, we strolled along the main street for a while before going to our house. Our house felt like a second home, and we were quite familiar with the area.

After spending a few hours out and about, we returned to our home in the evening. That's when I saw our front door had been forced open, and the inside of every room was a mess, with paint splattered all over. The furniture was all broken and in pieces.

I didn't want to assume things too quickly. Some might say, “Did the neighbors do it? ” Well, it turns out they were just renting the property, not the owners.

To this day, no one else has lived there, which is peaceful for us, but we had to spend 5K to fix the property, repair the door, clean it up, and get rid of the paint on the walls. I can't understand why anyone would do this, especially if they didn't know us. It's hard to believe that one complaint would make a family go to such extremes before leaving their vacation.

It's a sad world, I suppose, but it wasn't something we couldn't recover from. The lesson here, I guess, is to always check who your neighbors are when you're thinking of buying a house. The house itself isn't the only important factor to consider.

We lived in a pretty house in Georgia, near a town called Griffin. My wife, Sheila, worked in accounts, and I was an IT consultant. Sometimes I worked from home, but I also traveled to help companies with their projects.

Every once in a while, I even flew to Europe to help people protect their computers. Overall, we had a good life; we had good jobs and a nice house. But we didn't know that things were about to change and make our lives very different.

Looking back, I should have noticed that Sheila was acting a bit different than usual. She had started to act distant and sometimes a little grumpy. She used to go running often, but she began doing it only twice a week and sometimes just once a week.

Then, one Saturday morning, while we were eating breakfast, she said she needed to talk to me. She looked worried that I might get mad or upset about what she had to say. At first, I thought she was going to talk about our relationship, like maybe it was falling apart; that's why she seemed worried about making me angry.

But I was completely wrong. She told me, "Two months ago, I found a lump in my right breast, and at the end of the week, the doctor called me in for another appointment. Then he said the test showed that I had breast cancer.

" In the weeks that followed, I had more tests, and they told me the cancer had spread. To crucial parts of my body called lymph nodes. Because of this, they said it was really serious and that I might only have a year to a year and a half to live at best.

We just looked at each other, shocked and sad. Sheila's health got worse over time. I took care of her at home with help from some kind nurses who were really kind and supportive.

But one day, she didn't wake up, and it was clear she had passed away in her sleep. We had her funeral, and I took care of all the things that needed to be done. After a while, I was able to grieve, and about six months later, I decided to sell our house and move to Florida.

I thought I needed a fresh start, and I believed Sheila wouldn't want me to be really sad all the time. After searching for a while, I found a three-bedroom house with two bathrooms and one acre of land just outside the town of Griffin, so I had to start packing all our things, even Sheila's old stuff that I wanted to keep. Even though six months had passed, I couldn't bring myself to throw away or give away any of her things, no matter how hard I tried.

But I promised myself that once I settled in the new house, I would go through Sheila's clothes and things to find a good home for some of them. Moving into the new house went smoothly. The actual move went well, and nothing got broken during the move, which was a pleasant surprise.

However, the house and the garage outside were filled with a lot of boxes. During the first week, I struggled to find the right places for the things I brought with me, including some of the furniture from our old house, though not all of it. I left some old and worn-out things in boxes because I planned to replace them with new ones once I moved in, so I had to leave those things spread around the house.

One big issue I had on moving day was that I forgot about getting curtains and blinds for all the windows. Luckily, the person who lived there before me left the ones they had, which was a big relief. The first week in the new house went smoothly; I had taken two weeks off from my job to help organize the house.

However, during the second week, some strange things started happening. It was Monday morning, and I had just finished eating some cereal. I stood up and walked to the door; then there was a package for me.

So, I signed for it and closed the door. When I returned to the kitchen, I was surprised; something strange was happening. The drawers in the kitchen were all pulled halfway out.

I thought, "What's going on? " I checked the back door to make sure nobody had come inside and checked all around to see if anyone was there, but there was no sign of anyone entering the house. After I got the parcel, I pushed all the drawers back in their places and went back to the breakfast table.

I was quiet and just looked around; everything seemed calm. After finishing my coffee and cleaning up, I decided to go into Griffin to buy some supplies from the grocery store and take a quick look around the town. I came back to the house three hours later and put everything away.

I had lunch in town and then decided to go for a swim in the pool, which was the first time since moving in. I went upstairs to get my swimming trunks and a towel, but when I got to my bedroom, I had trouble opening the door; it felt stuck. I hadn't experienced this issue since moving in, and now it was happening.

I pushed and turned the handle, and suddenly the door flew open, and I ended up on the bedroom floor. I tried opening and closing the bedroom door several times, and this time it worked fine. I got changed, took a towel and bathrobe, and went downstairs to the backyard.

While walking across the lawn toward the pool, I noticed that there was water on the walkway near the shallow end of the pool, and it seemed like someone had been in the pool. I looked around to see if I could spot anyone, but there was no one to be seen. I hung my robe and towel on a pool chair, then slowly got into the pool using the ladder.

I started swimming and relaxing, but I couldn't stop thinking about the weird drawer issue in the house and who might have been in my pool, why, and where they went. Try as I might, I just couldn't relax. While I was swimming towards the deeper end, I got a strange feeling that someone else was in the pool with me.

I turned around and looked back, and I saw ripples in the water near the shallow end, like what you see when someone is moving in the water, but there was no one there, and the ripples slowly disappeared. I kept swimming back and forth. When I got out of the pool and went for my towel, I found it had been moved to a different chair.

I was shocked to see my towel wet and used. I sat on a pool chair, looking all around, but there was no one in sight. Then I glanced back at the pool, and to my surprise, I could see a small figure in the deep end.

It looked like a child, just floating there, not moving. I hurriedly jumped into the pool and swam to the deep end. I dove down where the figure was, but as I got underwater, it started to look blurry.

I could see the face of a boy, maybe. . .

About 10 years old, but then the image vanished. I came up coughing up water. I searched all around and under the water, but there was no one there.

I got out of the pool and sat back in the pool chair, feeling puzzled. I thought to myself, maybe the sadness from my wife's passing was making me see things that weren't there. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my thoughts.

Suddenly I heard a voice. I jumped up, opened my eyes, and looked around to see who was speaking. Then I noticed, at the end of the garden, there was a small shed with a pile of logs in front of it.

I put on my bathrobe and walked down to the end of the yard, because that's where the voice seemed to be coming from. When I arrived, I looked all around, opened the shed door, and found it filled with landscaping and gardening tools, along with a small broken mower. I walked around to the back of the shed and looked around.

At first, I saw nothing strange, but then a patch of new grass caught my attention. All around this fresh grass, there were tall weeds and bushes. It seemed odd that someone had decided to plant new grass right in the middle of all that.

I wondered if they were trying to hide something. The new grass looked very fake and out of place, like it didn't belong there. I went back into the shed and found a spade.

When I returned, I stood over the new grass area. I hesitated, thinking, "What am I doing? This might not be right.

" Still, I started by removing the top layer of grass, and it became clear that the soil underneath was easy to dig. I dug down to the depth of the spade handle, and then I hit something. So, I dug away the dirt and found a rotting roll of carpet.

It had cables tied around the top and bottom, kind of like TV wires. I carefully lifted the carpet roll, but it was falling apart in my hands. As I set it down, the top cable came off, and a small decayed arm came out.

I was horrified and stepped back. I bent down and removed the other cable, and the carpet roll fell apart, revealing part of a decaying shoe and two leg bones. I rushed to the house and called 911.

The sheriff's car arrived in 10 minutes, along with the crime investigation team. After they finished their work, they said it seemed like the body was that of a 10-year-old boy. They found chlorine traces on the clothes that covered the badly decomposed body.

The police thought the boy might have accidentally fallen into the pool and drowned, or maybe someone pushed him. They wondered why I dug in that spot on that day. I made up a story because I didn't want them to think I was hearing strange voices.

The police talked to the previous owner and some of his family, but since then, nothing strange has happened in the house. I just feel uncomfortable and uneasy living here. After that, my grandparents had a big farm with horses, and I spent a lot of time taking care of them when I wasn't in school.

When I turned 21, I met my husband. A few years later, we got married and had two kids. My oldest daughter was 8 years old when I got a surprise phone call.

A man named Mr Walker said he was a lawyer who looked after my grandparents' stuff. The lawyer said he met my other set of grandparents, the ones from my mom's side. It was a big surprise because I had never met or talked to them.

I was 32 years old, and they had never reached out to me in my whole life. Mr Walker told me that my grandpa had passed away. I asked about my grandma, but she had also passed away a few years ago.

I tried to feel sad, but I didn't even know what they looked like. I think the lawyer could tell I was confused, so he got to the point and said I had inherited their house. I didn't know what to say.

Mr Walker explained that my mom was supposed to get the house, but she had also passed away, and I was her only living child. I asked if there were any other family members, and Mr Walker said my mom had a brother, but he had also passed away. So, I called my husband right away to let him know.

When he came home, we talked more about it. He suggested I call my other set of grandparents to hear their thoughts before I did anything with a lawyer. I called them, and they weren't too interested in the house.

Just to clarify, these were my other grandparents, not the ones who had passed away. I kind of expected that they wouldn't be too concerned. They basically said I could do whatever I wanted with it; they didn't really know my mom's parents well enough to have an opinion.

When I talked to Mr Walker again, he agreed to come meet me in person. I was really thankful for that because I needed more information. I didn't want to leave my kids without knowing what to do, so we got a babysitter to take care of the kids while my husband and I met with the lawyer at a restaurant in the city.

Mr Walker seemed trustworthy; he was an older man, maybe in his 50s, dressed nicely, and he explained things clearly. He gave us the papers we needed, and they seemed real. When we got back home, my husband and I talked more and had a short discussion about what we should do next.

I suggested going to the house by myself to. . .

"Check it out, but my husband strongly disagreed; instead, we decided to leave our kids with his parents and other family members. Then we both went there together. I had to admit it sounded like a better plan.

We waited a few more weeks before we went. We left on Saturday and planned to come back the next day. We didn't want the kids to miss school, so we made sure one of us dropped them off.

The flight took six hours, which wasn't too bad; we left early. What I didn't expect was the heavy traffic on the roads as we drove from the airport to the nearby town where my grandparents had a house. By the time we arrived, it was already nighttime.

The lawyer met up with us, but he was in a hurry to go home, so he gave us the keys at the driveway and told us to go check it out. It was nice because we could explore the house without him hovering around. The property was really big, and you couldn't see the main house from the driveway because of all the big plants and tall oak trees.

The air was fresh, and the neighborhood was quiet and peaceful; I was already starting to like it, even though we couldn't see much of it because it was getting dark. Our original plan was to see the house, then we would stay at a hotel for the night. After that, we would leave the next morning.

I had the keys to the house, so we decided to go up there anyway; we thought we might as well stay the night there. The house was big enough for my family, and it looked really sturdy with its wooden and stone construction. I was sure it could survive a hurricane.

Also, I unlocked the door, and we went inside. After some searching, we found the light switch; when I turned it on, the soft yellow light made the house feel cozy and comfortable. My husband and I had talked about selling the house, which was our main plan, but now looking at it, I wasn't so sure I wanted to let it go that easily.

We put our bags down and started exploring the rest of the house. It had four bedrooms, but it was clear that only my grandparents lived here toward the end of their lives. I focused on checking out the top floor while my husband stayed downstairs.

I could hear him opening doors and drawers, and I knew he would go through every nook and cranny if he had the time, so I let him do his thing. While I was going through the closet in the main bedroom, he called out to tell me what he found in the basement. He said there was a lot of stuff down there and that he was going to take a closer look.

I didn't think much about it and just said I heard him. Okay, I shouted back. About 30 minutes later, I heard a loud noise coming from the basement; it echoed through the whole house and then suddenly stopped.

A few minutes later, my husband called my name. I instantly knew something was wrong; it wasn't just the worry in his voice that got me concerned; he used my full name, something he rarely did. I left what I was doing and hurried downstairs.

I found him under the staircase, standing next to an open door that I figured led to the basement. He had a wide-eyed, terrified look on his face. I asked him what was going on.

My husband was usually strong, so seeing him so shaken worried me. He said, 'I think I found a body. ' My heart filled with fear.

'What do you mean you found a body? ' I nearly shouted in shock. He replied, 'Come and see.

' Then he turned and went deeper into the basement. I followed him slowly; as I got closer, I started to wonder if I really wanted to see a body, if there even was one. I hoped my husband was mistaken; maybe he saw something wrong, maybe we needed another set of eyes.

The basement had no light bulbs, so my husband used the flashlight on his phone. I had no idea what made my husband decide to go down to the basement that night. We reached the bottom, and the basement was quite big, almost half the size of the entire house.

He walked over to a big wooden box; it seemed like it had been moved around a bit. I was scared that the body might be inside, but my husband went around it and knelt behind the box. As my husband spoke, he pointed to a big crack in the concrete floor that ran along the bottom.

I noticed these lines under the box, but I thought it might be a structural issue, so I moved the box to take a closer look. I wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't pointed it out. I wondered how he even found it in the first place.

He said that someone had dug out this part of the floor, and they did a really bad job trying to cover it up. I saw it was hidden, and I thought maybe it was a worker in the house who did it. He explained, then he grabbed a crowbar and stuck it into the big gap and lifted it.

A piece of the concrete came up, and there was a terrible smell. I found myself looking at a part of a decayed skull, partly in the ground. I gasped in fear, and my hand flew up to cover my face.

My husband put the piece of concrete down and came to hold me because I started breathing really hard, and I almost fainted. He took me upstairs and made me sit in a chair in the living room. I stayed there.

" Until the police showed up, my husband went with them to the basement. When they came out, their faces looked really tense. Over the next few days, we saw the case of the murder being investigated again, and eventually, they wrapped it up.

The lawyer had told me my grandmother had passed away, but he didn't mention that she had gone missing first and was later declared dead. I had just met my grandmother for the first time; she had lived with my grandfather until she disappeared. The most likely explanation was that he had killed her and buried her in the basement, but I couldn't ask him that because he was also dead.

I was really glad to leave that place and never go back, leaving all the disturbing stuff behind. They sold the house right after they finished the investigation, but man, that whole thing scared and upset me.