The first night I was there, I took the mirror down

I moved into a small brick house on a quiet street in 2012, right after my divorce. I never met the previous owners, but we agreed that I could keep some of their old furniture and a few paintings and decorations they left behind.

One of those decorations was a heavy, wrought-iron mirror with three panels. It hung over the kitchen bar, which was right in the middle of the house—between the kitchen, living room, and sunroom. If you sat at the bar, you faced the kitchen, but you could also see the rest of the house through the mirror.

The first night I was there, I took the mirror down. I don’t know why—it just gave me a weird feeling.

The next morning, I was sitting at the bar, and the mirror was only a few feet away, leaning against the wall. I glanced over—and my heart nearly stopped. The mirror had lifted off the wall, hanging straight out in the air like someone was holding it!

Before I could react, it slammed back against the wall with a loud bang. But it was still hanging on the nail, like nothing had happened. No wind, no shaking—just that.

After that, strange things kept happening:

• A door frame cracked right after I walked through it.
• The dresser handles in my bedroom rattled at night.
• Someone knocked on the glass back door, but when I checked, nobody was there—and my dog was sound asleep.
• One night, all the bathroom lights blew out at the same time.

Years later, I heard from the next owner. She told me that a wooden cross on a shelf flew across the room on its own—and nearly hit her.

I still wonder what was in that house.