Typewriters going like crazy as soon as the lights went out at night. They would turn the lights on and the sound would stop. Funny thing was that they didn't even have one typewriter, much less several to constitute such a racket.
Televisions all over the house would turn themselves on and off, even the ones that didn't have a remote control. The sounds of people running up and down the long staircase again and again .... for hours sometimes. The strange talking whispers at night whose words could never seem to be heard.
Then, one night, one of the older kids woke up with a start as he heard footsteps outside his room. He opened the door and saw an old man in tattered clothes, covered in algae, limping down the hall. He freaked out and shut the door. He finally fell asleep and woke up to all the other kids in the hallway looking at piles of algae on the floor and wet footprints leading into a blank wall. Every night after that, there was the smell of stagnant river water in the hall.
These were all pretty harmless. Scary at times, but nothing damaged. That continued for several years until a new kid came to the home.
The moment he stepped into the doorway to be welcomed by his foster family, all of the kitchen cabinets slammed open at once. The smell at night dissipated, but objects like bottles, glasses, and plates were discovered smashed on the hallway floor.
One night, the new boy woke up to his bed shaking like an earthquake was happening. He went to jump out of bed...and fell six feet to the floor from where his bed floated. He screamed for help and the bed slammed down again. Not fell. Slammed, as if pushed by a giant hand. It broke some floor boards and shattered the oak posts of the wooden bed. He refused to sleep in the room again.
This type of havoc went on for weeks. Things the boy had brought with him ended up mangled or missing, like an electric guitar that became split exactly in two. Whenever he was alone somewhere, he would report a cold breeze in the area and the sound of whispers. He decided to never be alone.
Finally, the foster mother could take this abuse no more, and she hired a psychic to come and exorcise the house. She was not religious and the church just brushed her off. When the psychic came, she suggested a seance to understand the house first. She suggested that the boy be there, as well as the other children.
During the seance, everything was fine. Some things were moved and a cold chill came and went. Then the psychic asked the spirits in the house to leave. The cabinet doors in the kitchen slammed open. It became icy cold and the boy began to choke. The mother tried to help him but she fell to the floor and could not get up, like someone was sitting on her. The boy stood and was pushed against a column in the room. The psychic screamed for the spirit to be gone, to stop, to go.
Finally, the other kids were able to get the boy out of the house. He developed deep bruises on his neck in the shape of fingers. He left the house that night to live in a temporary home until he could be placed somewhere else.
The damaging events ended. The others continue today. I have been there many times. The last time, someone grabbed me from behind, like one someone sneaks up on you to scare you. I turned around and this cold breeze hit me in the face. I left and will never go back there.