The Enfield Poltergeist

It all started with a children's horror story; a legend. Something for no one to believe in. It was all about a man. An old man named Faust. His last name was lost as was his life. He used to own that big house down Green Street in Ponders End. He was a spiteful old man, who cursed at children and hated the outside world. He was about eighty-six.
It was the year 1856, and Faust was as angry and spiteful as ever. He wore his long, shaggy white hair down, not bothering to style it and to look presentable. He wore a long house-coat, and he sat at his oak desk eating porridge. He never had company, so he didn't try to look presentable. He didn't care what people thought of him. He hated everyone and everything.
He moved his weary eyes toward the ceiling. It was beautiful, and it looked like it should've belonged in a Church. It had intricately carved sculptures of Cupid and his arrows. At the centre of the ceiling was a beautiful chandelier. It had diamonds hanging down, light glinting off of them. It made a beautiful pattern on the ceiling.
Faust had been staring at that pattern for a few minutes before he realised his porridge. He looked down to find the bowl empty.
"Ah! I must've finished it already." He exclaimed angrily. It took a while for him to gather up the energy to rise from his seat. He grunted a lot when he moved. He dropped the empty bowl into the sink and went to sit back down in his chair. He barely moved from that chair.
When he entered his living room, he found that the chair had been moved to the back of the room.
"Whoever's here..." He breathed deeply, "You should leave before I find you." He would've shouted it if he had the energy. He walked towards a small wooden box, opened it and pulled out an axe. He wandered around his huge house, trying to find his intruder. No one was in his house but him.
Faust walked slowly back into the living room and sat down in his chair, this time on the other side of the room. He waited anxiously with his axe leaning against the side of the chair. He jumped when the chair creaked. He knew it was nothing, but he reached for his axe anyway. It was gone. He jumped up, probably injuring himself.
The axe came down quickly.

Legend says that he still haunts that house in Ponders End, down Green Street.