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Boo, it is case 13 of our Halloween countdown, and this one is very definitely

unlucky for our witness Elaine. She says it's 1970 and I'm 12 years old living in an old

terraced house in Egremont in Wirral, Merseyside.

It's cold and damp. My biggest fear is the cellar. And when the electricity runs out,

one of us has to go down there and put a shilling in the meter. Sometimes my mum is too scared

to go down to me and my sister would light a candle and slowly descend into the inky blackness.

Sometimes we'd hear movements and breathing, and we run back up those stairs.

One night, I was alone in the house,

as my mum was across the road at my nans with my sister, and my dad was at work.

It was dark outside, and I was watching Top of the Pops on TV.

Suddenly, all hell lets loose.

A sound of glass smashing, heavy objects being thrown,

doors being ripped off hinges.

It was coming from the cellar.

I fled, leaving the front door wide open and ran to my nans.

She said to call the police, but Mum said no or wait for my dad.

When he came home, he went down to the cellar.

There wasn't a thing out of place.

I heard Mum talking later to my dad about how the body of the previous owner, an old lady,

had been laid out in our cellar.

I couldn't wait to leave that house.

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