Uhh, the house is probably haunted, so you should probably sleep in my roomAugust 15, 2011
(Edit: At the end of the story I added a link to a layout of the house, so you could get a better idea of where those things took place)
This all takes place at the house that I sorta grew up in (“sorta” because my family moved when I was around seven or eight) – and this house was old-ish (built in the 40s). So my mom was a stay-at-home mom (at the time), and my dad was a firefighter. He had this schedule were he’d work a 12 hour day shift, come home in the evening, leave early the next morning and work a 24 hour shift, come home the next morning, and then leave in the evening (to work another 12 hour shift) and he’d come home early the next morning – so needless to say, there were always a few days/nights out of the week where it was just my mom, myself, and my older sister.
I guess I should start at my earliest memory of the creepy shit that went on in this house (I had a chat with my parents and my sister yesterday to make sure that I got my facts straight). My sister and I were in my room (I had to be around four at the time, because I wasn’t in school yet – so this would’ve made my sister around 6-7 years old – so this means that this event happened like in 1991/at a time when most of you weren’t even born yet), I was sitting on my floor playing with Legos, and she was on my bed playing with her ridiculously huge collection of Barbies. Anyway, as we were playing, we both heard footsteps on the tile floor in the kitchen, followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening. About a minute later, we heard the sound of one of the breakfast table chairs drag across the tile floor – like someone was pulling it out to sit down. We both assumed it was my mom. So my sister calls out, “Mom, c’mere!”. There was no answer. My sister calls out again, “Mom!”. Still no answer. “Mom?” Then my mom popped up in front of my room’s open window to say, “Be right there! I’m watering the roses.” Literally seconds after my mom said this, we heard the fridge slam shut.
The next minute or so after this are sort of a blur. I remember that I just started sobbing…crying for my dad. I remember my sister jumping off my bed, and slamming my door shut, and telling me to help her pile all my toys in front of my door so that “they” couldn’t get in. What I do remember though was the look on my mom’s face when she heard the slamming noise: the color drained from her face, and her eyes were wide. I think that’s probably what made me cry – the look of terror on her face. This was one of the things that I had to ask for my mom to clear up for me since I don’t remember it too well. She told me once she heard the fridge slam shut, she assumed that someone got in the house while she was outside watering her plants, even though there’s no way that could’ve happened since there were three exits out of that house: the door that goes into the laundry room that led to the garage (but the garage door was closed), the front door (it was one of those double doors; a heavy wooden door with a wrought iron door in front of it – both of which, she said, always remained locked unless someone was using it) the back door that she used to leave the house – and she would’ve seen someone come in through that door since the back yard was fairly small, guarded by our female Bull Mastiff (who was incredibly protective), and enclosed on every side by a 7 ½ foot tall chain link fence.
Anyway, she said when she got in the house, all of the chairs to the kitchen table were pulled out…like way out – two were up against the wall, one was against the stove, and one was in the opening that connected the living room to the kitchen. She said the scariest part was that nearly all of the contents from the refrigerator were laying out on the kitchen table; all the condiments, the milk, veggies, leftovers…they were all thrown on top of the table. She said she picked me up, grabbed my sister by the hand, and got out of the house as fast as she could, without grabbing keys or anything. She was too afraid to go into the garage to get us into her car, so we had to walk to my great-grandparents’ house (they lived like a block away).
She told me once she got to my great-grandparents’ she quickly explained to them that someone was in our house, and that she needed to call the cops. My mom said said that right after she called the cops, my great-grandpa grabbed one of his many hunting rifles and ran back to our house (It makes me smile when I picture my 70-some year old great-grandpa running down a street, carrying a rifle). My mom said she left my sister and I with my great grandma, while she took my great-grandpa’s car back to our house to check on him. She said he popped out of the house, and told her that he checked all rooms and closets, and couldn’t find anyone in the house.
So my mom and great grandpa waited outside until the cops arrived – which took less than five minutes, according to her (I guess the response time back in the early 90s was awesome). She said that two cop cars arrived. One police officer took a statement from my mom while the other two searched the house. They said that they looked in every corner of every room, and couldn’t find anyone. She asked them if they would go inside with her while she called my dad at work, and grabbed some clothes for her, myself, and my sister. She said she didn’t even bother putting the food back in the fridge, because of the uncomfortable feeling she felt in the house. She said, and I’m quoting her on this, “when I was in there, packing us a bag, it felt like someone was in the house watching us. Like they were hiding, but peaking from around a corner”. So the three of us stayed at my great-grandparents until my dad came home that evening.
After that “kitchen incident” she didn’t like my sister and I sleeping in separate rooms – so my dad bought a bunk bed to put in my room (which, sadly, replaced my awesome race car bed… ), so that my sister and I could sleep in the same room. But what my mom really didn’t like was having to sleep alone (understandably), so the nights when my dad worked, my sister and I would sleep in my mom’s bed with her – and my mom always made sure to leave a light on in the house when my dad wasn’t there.
The next time I remember something weird happening took place when I was six (according to my mom), and it was one of those nights where my dad was working. My mom said that when this happened, my older sister was going through that “I’m too old to sleep in your bed”-phase, and that there was nothing that she could tell my sister to get her to sleep in my parent’s room without scaring the shit out of her (“Uhh, the house is probably haunted, so you should probably sleep in my room”?). So that night, it was just my mom and I on that big bed. I remember waking up because it felt like someone was standing over me. I slowly opened my eyes, expecting to see someone standing there. Thankfully, though, I didn’t. So I was gonna close my eyes and go back to sleep, but before I could do that, I saw something out of the corner of my left eye. Too scared to turn my head in that direction, I merely shifted my eyes to where I thought I saw something. There was someone standing in the doorway to my parents’ room – someone tall. With the faint, orange glow from the lamp that my mom left on in the living room, there should’ve been enough light to make out some features on this person’s face, but, strangely, I couldn’t. Where the eyes/nose/mouth should’ve been, there was just…black. It was weird, like I said, with the lamp on in the living room, I should’ve been able to get a better look at this person – but it was just like a shadow…silhouette, but at the same time it wasn’t, because unlike a silhouette, this person/thing had a shape, if that makes sense. It was like a 3D shadow, I guess. I could tell that it was a man because of the broad shoulders and big chest. He was just standing there, leaning a shoulder on the door frame…he wasn’t moving, but I could feel that he was watching me. I remember being too scared to wake up my mom…too scared to even make a move or a sound. So I closed my eyes, hoping that I was just imagining it. A few second later, I opened my eyes and (made the mistake of) turning my head towards the door to see if the man was still standing there. He was. When I remember what happened next, I still get a lump in my throat and goose bumps. When I looked in that direction, the man standing in the doorway was still staring at me, but now he moved… He slowly tilted his head sideways like a curious dog. I remember shutting my eyes as tight as I could. Eventually, I fell back asleep.
The next morning, my mom and I were laying in bed waiting for my dad to get home, and I told her what happened. I told her that I woke up in the middle of the night, and that there was a man who stood in the doorway and stared at me. She told me that I just had a bad dream. She got out of bed and went to the kitchen, and my sister came to sit on my mom’s bed and watch tv with me. I remember my mom quickly came back in her room with a scared look on her face, and closed and locked the door behind her. My sister and I just looked at her and asked her what was wrong — she put on a fake smile and said “nothing”. I remember sitting on my mom’s bed with my sister, watching Saturday morning cartoons and complaining about wanting breakfast. I still remember my mom promising both of us that we’d eat when my dad got home, but we had to stay in her room, because she wanted to surprise him when he came back.
About five minutes later, we heard someone walking down the wood-floored hallway to the bedroom. My sister and I, thinking that it was my dad, got real quiet so that we could surprise him. The footsteps got closer and closer until they stopped in front of my mom’s door. But whoever was standing there didn’t knock on the locked door, or even make an attempt to try to open the door. So my mom thought it was my dad, just like my sister and I, and said “Honey? Is that you?”. There was no response. “Honey?” Still no response. All we heard was the footsteps go from the locked door, down the hallway, and into the kitchen where they stopped. All of us stayed quiet. Then the footsteps started up again; I remember hearing heavy footsteps leave the kitchen, and come back down the hall, and stop in front of the locked door again. My mom was panicking at this point. My sister and I started crying out of fear. My mom wrapped her arms around us and yelled “Stop it! You’re scaring the kids!”, but no one replied, all we heard was the footsteps go back into the kitchen, the come back to the locked bedroom door.
So, at this point, I’m gonna fill in the gaps with the stuff that my mom told me yesterday: After I told my mom about seeing the “shadow man” standing in the doorway, she really did think that I just had a bad dream, and thought nothing of it. So as she went to the kitchen to make coffee, she said that she heard a faint ticking sound coming from the laundry room, so she went to go see what is was. When she went in there, the knob on the dryer was turned to on, but the dryer door was wide open, so the ticking she heard was the timer on the dryer. The cabinets above the washer and dryer were also wide open…and their contents (bleach, fabric softener, detergent, etc…) were piled on top of the washer. She said the second she looked in that room was “one of the biggest ‘Oh shit’ moments in [her] life.” She immediately closed the door to the laundry and ran back to her room because she felt like someone was watching her. She didn’t want to scare my us (my sister and I), so she made up that lie about how we had to stay in her room to surprise my dad when he came home.
After what felt like forever, we finally heard my dad’s truck drive down our gravel driveway, and once we heard the garage door open, all of us started calling out to my dad. He came running to the door, shouting “Are you guys okay?”. My mom yelled back, “Someone’s in the house!”. I don’t really remember much about what happened next. I remember my mom finally unlocking her door and letting my dad in. I remember all of us telling my dad about hearing the footsteps. My mom and dad filled me in on more details yesterday. When my dad heard my mom say that there was someone in the house, he looked everywhere, and couldn’t find anyone. He also said that the front and backdoor were locked (so was the door to the garage when he came home), and so were all the windows.
After that happened, more weird/scary stuff kept happening (I never experienced any of it). My mom said that things would never be where she left them (like stuff would go missing and turn up in weird places: car keys in the shower or shoes in the pantry…), she’d constantly find drawers and cabinets wide open, and after she’d close them, leave the room, and come back, they were wide open again. And every time my dad was at work and my sister and I were at school, my mom would spend her days at my great-grandparents because she was too scared to be in the house alone. So her younger brother/my uncle (he was around 21 at the time) would stay with us a lot during the evenings and nights when my dad wasn’t home (he’d sleep in my sister’s room). But my mom said that that didn’t last long, because my uncle told her that he could hear someone pacing around the house at night, and he’d wake up in the middle of the night because he could feel someone sitting at the foot of the bed, and when he’d get up in the morning, a statue of the Archangel Michael (that my grandparent’s gave to my dad to “protect the house”) was either laying on its side (on the dresser, where it was supposed to be standing), or sometimes it was just turned facing the wall instead of facing outward. My sister refused to sleep in my room anymore, because she said that she could hear someone in the closet every time she tried sleeping in there. And my dad told me that aside from hearing footsteps go up and down the hall, he could hear someone whispering, and sometimes he’d wake up and hear heavy breathing coming from the living room – but it “was too heavy to be a person – it sounded like it was coming from a horse or a bull”.
Needless to say, we moved out of that house, as quick as we could — as soon as our new house was built (it wasn’t even completely ready when we moved in – a few of the rooms were unpainted and still needed carpet). Anyway, my last story comes from the last time I was ever in that house. I was about eight, and we were already completely moved out – but I went with my dad to that house to say goodbye/get one last look, while he went to make sure that we didn’t leave anything behind. So I was in the living room taking one last look around, when I heard the closet in my room open. The thing about that closet was that the door sat low, so every time it was opened/closed, you could hear the door drag against the carpet – which also meant that it was sort of hard to open and close – or rather, it required a little bit of force to do either (open or close it). Thinking it was my dad, I happily asked “What are you doing in my room, Dad?”, as I started walking down the hall towards my room. I could hear shuffling in my closet. When I got in there, I stopped dead in my tracks in the doorway; the room was empty, but the closet was halfway open (the closet door was on the same wall as the entrance to my room, so where I stopped, I couldn’t see inside the closet, all I could see was the open door), and the shuffling sound that I heard stopped. “Dad?”, I asked. I was hoping…praying that he would answer – that I’d hear his voice come from the closet, and that he would tell me that he was in there making sure that I didn’t forget anything in there. Then I heard my dad shout from the garage, “Are you ready?!”. My dad was in the garage…not my room. My stomach dropped. It felt like my entire body was flooded with ice water. I couldn’t move. My brain was telling my legs to move, to get the hell out of there, but that feeling of dread kept me from moving. You know that hot, moist feeling you feel on your ear when someone whispers too close to your ear? That’s what I felt next – like someone was breathing right next to my ear. Then I heard the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life; as I stood there, too scared to move, a voice whispered, “I see you…”. I screamed and ran out of that house as fast as I could. I ran to my dad (who was waiting in the garage), and hugged him as tight as I could. I remember that I was crying – but my dad also said that I was shaking like a wet dog. After everything that happened in that house, he didn’t even wait for me to tell him what happened. He just put me in his truck, and drove away. So, uhh…yeah (to end this the same way I’ve ended every presentation in high school and college).