Ringing EarsJune 19, 2011
I tend to think we’re more in-tune with the supernatural/paranormal when we’re younger.
My grandparents had a basement where I had the only potentially paranormal experience of my life. It wasn’t a scary basement — it was finished, well-lit and nicely furnished — but there was one bedroom at end of a hallway that creeped me out. Every time I would start down the hallway, I would hear a noise that would start to grow in intensity — kind of like a terribly strong ringing in my ears, the kind you still have the day after going to an insanely loud concert — and the closer to the room I would go, the louder the noise would get.
When I was 8 or 9, I would make myself walk down the hallway because it was fun to psych myself out. Sometimes I would get really close before the sound became too unbearable, but then I would chicken out and run back down the hall.
One day, I decided I was going to make it into the room no matter what. I ran down the hall at a full sprint, opened the door and got inside. Once I was in there, there was nothing interesting to see. They just had some boxes of stuff stored in there. What freaked me out was that the minute I crossed that threshold, the noise disappeared immediately — all noise. I couldn’t even hear myself breathing. I looked around for a few minutes, decided there was nothing of interest, and then went back out.
The minute I crossed the threshold back into the hallway, the noise was so earsplitting that I literally screamed and ran upstairs as fast as I could.
A few years later when I was 12, I overheard my mom and my grandma having a conversation that I wasn’t meant to hear. From that conversation, I learned that my grandparents bought the house from a couple whose teenage son shot himself in his basement bedroom. It didn’t bother my grandparents to live there, but they promised the couple that they wouldn’t use that room as a bedroom for anyone, just for storage.
That in and of itself weirded me out quite a bit, but it wasn’t until I was an adult that the noise itself finally made sense. A friend was cleaning his rifle when it accidentally discharged in the same room I was sitting in. No one was hurt, but the noise and the ringing in my ears that lasted for almost an hour was something I immediately recognized from my grandparents’ basement.
I don’t think the dead kid’s ghost was haunting it or anything like that, but I do believe that I was able as a child to hear some sort of paranormal “echo” as it were of what took place there.
I have always wanted to go back and visit that house as an adult, but a different family lives there now and there’s no good way to say, “I’d like to see if there’s still a paranormal noise in your basement.”