This story is true. You don't have to believe it, but we know it's true. This may be quite long but to us it's worth reading.
Now then, my dad's sister moved away to Canada, when she was 21. My dad was the only one who kept in touch with her. So when she died, 2 years later, my dad got to keep her ashes, as she was cremated.
Anyway, we kept the urn, in which the ashes were kept, on the mantelpiece in our dining room. One night while we were eating our supper, the urn started to shake, violently. My dad just said, It's just your Aunty Clarissa. We didn't think anything else of it.
Another time, when our family had been out for a meal, we came in and everything on the mantelpiece had been thrown onto the floor... everything except the urn. My mum said it was probably burglers, so my dad went around the house and checked if anything was missing. There wasn't and none of the windows or doors had been smashed or opened.
After a while, we got used to strange things happening, involving the urn. But the last time it happened was when we were eating our lunch, a couple of days ago. All of a sudden, the urn fell off the mantelpiece and smashed all over the floor. My mum ran over, saying, Clarissa's ashes, Clarissa's ashes! She's not going to like this!
But when my mum went over to where the urn had fallen, with a dustpan and brush, there was only broken pottery on the floor, and the ashes were no-where to be seen!