My childhood home was the biggest source of hauntings in my life. It’s a shame because it was a beautiful, huge house. It was around 3,000 square feet, and when my family bought it, it was extremely cheap. I guess that should have been an indication that something was wrong right there. All I know is that I was two or three at the time. The only thing I remember about moving in is going through the empty house and finding a little girl’s hairclip in a drawer built into the wall in the upstairs bedroom. It looked like a new one; one of those plastic ones in the shape of a hair bow.
The first hauntings happened to my mom, so I’ll tell you about them first. The hauntings didn’t happen for me until later. One morning when I was still asleep and my biological father was already at work, my mom was in bed resting. Suddenly she heard three loud bangs on her bedroom door, which was closed. Startled, but thinking maybe it was my father, she got up and opened the door. No one was there, so she looked around the house, only to find no one there except me. I was still asleep.
The other thing that happened is that every time my mom would vacuum downstairs, she would hear banging upstairs. There was a bedroom upstairs that we rarely used. She would often turn off the vacuum to make sure she was really hearing it. However, as if hearing it wasn’t enough, she said that the ceiling would also shake and any lights on the ceiling would swing. I can tell you for a fact that it wasn’t me. Even the pets didn’t go up there. Something up there did not like the vacuum.
Years later when my mom was with my stepdad, the two of them were in bed in her bedroom. They were both awake, and I was asleep in my room. This time the door was open. My mom and stepdad watched in horror as the door slowly started closing on its own until it had closed completely.
The most significant thing about my parents’ bedroom was the closet at the end of it. Many of my nightmares take place here. The weird thing about the closet in the bedroom is that it actually was connected to another closet in a back room that I’ll tell you about in a minute. I always had this feeling that if a person tried, they could find a way to climb through one closet into the other. I never tried, though.
The hauntings began for me when I was twelve. One day I was hanging out in my parents’ bedroom while my mom was in and out doing chores. I was standing at an angle so that the open bedroom door was to my left or right, and I was currently alone. I turned slightly where I could see the door out of the corner of my eye, and I saw a figure that looked like someone covered in a white sheet with blood on it. I turned quickly and looked full on at the doorway, but saw nothing. Somehow I reasoned that I must have seen my own eye. I was thinking back then that since the eye is white with red blood vessels, then I must have seen my own eye somehow. This would be the first of many excuses I would use to just be able to live in that house without running out screaming.
Another time I was in my bed getting ready to fall asleep. My parents were already asleep. My cat was kneeling beside me, purring. I was lying on my side facing the wall away from the door. Suddenly, I felt something come up to the bed behind me. I don’t know how to describe it except that I felt a presence, very strongly. I ignored it until my cat stopped purring and looked up behind me. She did a questioning “meow?” If you’ve ever owned a cat or interacted with one, you know how you can kind of tell the tone of the cat’s meow? Well, this was definitely a questioning tone. At this point, I knew someone or something was standing over my bed behind me. It wasn’t my mom or stepdad. I hadn’t heard any footsteps. There was no one else in the house. I was paralyzed with fear, completely unable to move. I was terrified to look and see who or what was standing over me. Next my cat actually covered my body with hers, lying on top of me over the covers. It was as if she were protecting me. I was so scared that tears began to stream down my face. I wasn’t making any sounds or moving at all, but I was crying. I have never been more frightened in my entire life so far. I am thirty years old now, and have had many life experiences since then. Dramatic and scary things have happened to me since then, but nothing so far as made me react like I did that night. With such paralyzing fear. It’s the kind of thing you see in movies or read about in books, but never actually experience yourself. I was experiencing it in that horrible house at age twelve. At this point most people would say that time seemed to stop; that it seemed like an eternity. However, for me, I could tell exactly how long it had been, and the ordeal lasted about five minutes. Five minutes later, my cat got off of me and got back into her original kneeling position beside me. She began purring again. This is when I realized that who or whatever was there must have left. I had stopped crying, and my face gradually dried. I don’t think I ever turned to look even after it was gone. I just went to sleep eventually, probably exhausted from the experience.
Around the same time as the last experience, I woke up one morning to what felt like someone whispering in my ear. I couldn’t make out what was being said. As I woke up completely, the whispering stopped, and no one was there. That scared me so much that from that point on I slept with the covers covering my ears. I still do that to this day.
One night I woke up to a scream from outside. It sounded like a woman, and was very loud. My mom also woke up, and said she was having a nightmare. We didn’t hear anything else after that, and neither of us did anything about it. We never figured out what that was about.
The upstairs bedroom was another source of intense haunting. I feel like this was the most haunted place in the whole house and the land it stood on. There was a door that lead up a long flight of stairs. At the top of the stair landing a small window looked out onto the side yard. From here on the rest of the upstairs had light green (almost neon but more faded and sickly looking), mushy feeling carpet. You could turn a corner into a small hall that had a walk in closet on one side of the wall. This closet was scary to me because it had one of those old lights that was just an exposed light bulb with a cord you pulled on to turn it on. The light was in the middle of the closet. So that meant that the closet was pitch dark and I was walking into the unknown, frantically feeling for the cord so I could pull it and see what was in there with me. Nothing was ever in there with me except old junk my family stored in there. At least not anything that I was aware of. Rounding another small corner after the closet was a small bedroom. It’s really a shame that this was the most terrifying place in the house, because it was a cute bedroom. There were three windows looking out into different parts of the backyard. Several drawers were built into the wall around a small hatch-like door leading to the attic. One of these drawers is where I found the little girl’s hair clip. Everything was painted white. My family kept a bed in that room and a few other pieces of furniture. I remember it always being really hot up there, and always finding huge bugs of various species. This is the most frequent area of the house that all of my nightmares take place in.
When I was thirteen, no one had been up there for a long time, not even the pets. One day my mom and I went up there for some reason. We found a lamp had somehow fallen off of a table and broken. There was no explanation for that one, either. If you recall, this is the room that my mom heard and saw (via the ceiling shaking) the banging whenever she’d vacuum downstairs.
In this house I also had a playroom. A playroom is kind of like an extension to a kid’s room, where they keep their toys and other entertainment. At least that’s what it was for me. There was a closet in it that was sort of walk in. I used it to store my toys. Well, sometimes anyway. Inside the closet there was a slanting ceiling and a little corner off to the side where you could crawl over to. This weirded me out so I never crawled over to that side of the closet. Something about the way it was structured felt uncharted. Like I wasn’t sure where I’d end up if I went down there. This is the closet that was connected to my parents’ bedroom closet. There were a bunch of windows in the playroom looking out onto the back yard. The room was always “mine” (I was an only child), but it changed from a toy room to more of a rec room the older I got. I remember hosting a lot of sleepovers back there instead of in my bedroom.
When I was twelve, I stopped using the playroom for play. It became more of a storage room for old toys, with a seating area and a TV. So I spent less time in the playroom than I used to. One day while hanging out in there I remember looking up and seeing something on the ceiling that as far as I know was a new thing. It had not been there before, or so I recall. I could be wrong, but that doesn’t make it any less creepy. The ceiling was white, and when I looked up at it, I saw what looked like paw prints. They were light brown in color, and appeared about in the middle of the ceiling near the door. At first I thought maybe it was some kind of stain that had happened that I didn’t know about, and my brain had just made the pattern into paw prints. Therefore I didn’t think much of it the first time I saw it. However, every time I would go into the playroom I got a chance to look at it again. I looked it at about four more times on separate occasions before I realized just how much they really looked like paw prints. It was as if a cat or small dog had walked on my ceiling. I had cats and dogs, but as far as I knew none of them could walk on the ceiling. There was nothing above the playroom except the roof, so it’s not like they were up there either. This was another one of those things that after confirming it was creepy and unexplainable, I decided to ignore. I didn’t spend much time in the playroom from that point on anyway, so I didn’t have to be reminded of this bizarre occurrence often.
I spent a lot of time in the den when I was thirteen. That’s where the computer was at the time, and I was obsessed with it. I’d spend all night online, which was a very good form of distraction from the scary house experiences. I’d usually listen to music, too, so my visual and hearing fields were blocked. One thing that I did notice, however, was the door to the attic. The door was in the same room as the den. No one ever went in there, and it had been that way for almost the entire time my family lived in the house. Just like any old house, the door was aged. Where it had once been smooth were dents, which would have been fine, had those dents not created a shape that looked like a skull. I tried my best to ignore that.
Finally, when I was thirteen my family sold the house. The last time we went through to make sure we had done everything before passing it onto the new owner was a weird experience. It kind of felt like we were lucky to get out of there because the place was so haunted, but going back in that last day was creepy. It was kind of this feeling that the house didn’t want us to leave. However, with that we moved onto the next house. That didn’t keep the old house from lingering in my life, though. I remember the first major nightmare I had about the house. I dreamed that I was in front of the house at night. I looked up at the moon, which was huge, and there was something that looked like the face of a demon in it. It was some kind of black creature that could almost be something from an ink blot. That was scarier than actually being in the house. I’m praying right now as I type this.
Another thing my family noticed after we had left the house was the orbs in photographs. There were a bunch of them. Even creepier was that we found a photo of what we think is a ghost. Back when disposable cameras were used with traditional film, there were often a lot of pointless photos. The biggest reason for that was that there were a set number of photos that could be taken for each camera. Sometimes it was too many. After someone had taken photos of whatever it was they wanted, they often had at least 10 more photos left to take before the camera could be turned in to be developed. I mean, why waste photos when you can find something to take photos of? This resulted in photos of pointless things. One such photo was the one in question here. It was of the den with no one in it. I think one of us had been trying to photograph my cat, or something like that. That’s not what we got. Instead, there was the empty den, with half a person in front of the camera. It appeared to be a Caucasian female, and most of her mouth and a little of her body could be seen. That was it. It was like a human puzzle with most of the pieces missing. The photo creeped my family out so much that we threw it away.
Finally, there was the recording of something on a cassette tape. The way to record and save anything audio back when I was a kid was on a blank cassette tape. My family used these often to record music off the radio, and other random things. I remember the cassette recorder, and how you had to push both record and play or something like that to get it to actually record something. Years after I had left the house, when I was an adult in my twenties, my mom and I found the old tapes we recorded on. We decided to listen to them just to see what was on them. At first all we heard was radio music, and conversations I had apparently recorded just for the fun of it. I questioned why some songs had been recorded, and my mom responded that they got the blank tapes at a flea market. Yes, that was a thing to do back then. So apparently some of the music was recorded by the last person to own the blank tapes. However, then we noticed this noise that was in the background. It could only be heard during the recorded conversations and the silence that ensued when someone wasn’t talking. I had only recorded conversations in and around the house. We turned up the volume and listened to this noise. It sounded like a guttural, inhuman groaning. It didn’t sound like just the tape rolling, and didn’t show up during the radio recordings of the previous tape owner. This was the background sound in the house.
I moved to another haunted house when I was seventeen going on eighteen. The funny thing about this house was that it could have fit into one third of my childhood house. It was a tiny shotgun house right in the middle of hell. Ok, fine, I’m exaggerating, but the neighborhood was terrible. The neighbors were horrible. The land was infested with fire ants to the point where I would take off running to avoid being eaten alive if I had to step foot in the yard. The house itself was in terrible repair, which began to become apparent shortly after we moved in. That’s another kind of horror story, though.
The first haunting I experienced happened the entire time I was in the house, which mercifully wasn’t long. Every night I would sit up in my bedroom playing on the computer. Every night while I did this I felt a very strong feeling that someone was behind me, watching me. It was so strong that I often turned around just to check. No one was ever there.
Another haunting happened when I was in bed trying to fall asleep. It was late, around three o’clock AM. I was lying in my bed on my back when I looked at the window across from me a short distance away (shotgun house, remember?). I could swear I saw some kind of white thing floating up. At first I was in denial, trying to figure out what it could be. I turned the lights on, then turned them back off and it was there again. Finally I started to get worried and got my mom to come see if she could figure it out. I turned out the light and described it for her, asking if she saw it too. She looked at the window intently and gave a vague response. I decided to stay in denial and just wrote it off as one of the many theories I tried to come up with as to what it was. Something that could explain it scientifically. In the future I tried to not look at the window when the lights were out. Later, when we had moved out of the house, my mom told me she did see what I was describing, and that it creeped her out.
The most tangible haunting happened shortly before we moved. One afternoon I woke up and my mom let me know before I got into the living room that something weird had happened. In the tiny living room we had two recliners and a TV. That’s where I always ate breakfast and every other meal. That day, however, my mom told me that she found a signature on the wall in the living room. At first I thought maybe it had been there the whole time and we had missed it before, and I voiced that to my mom. She insisted that it had not been there until that morning. I was inclined to believe her because she is an obsessively detailed person. Besides, we had seen every inch of the house because we’d had to clean and paint it. She then told me that she erased it. I asked if it had been in pencil then, and she said yes. She never told me the name; I’m not sure if she couldn’t read the handwriting well enough or if she thought maybe if she said it the ghost owning the name would appear. I asked her where the signature was, and she showed me. It was near the floor on the side of the room my recliner was on. In fact, my recliner was too close to it for comfort. This was another one of those situations I chose to ignore until I got the hell out of there. Just like with the bigger house I lived in.
The next home I moved into was haunted in a more subtle way. It was just uncomfortable, weird things that would happen that weren’t quite enough to consider a haunting. Probably the most tangible of those things was the time I found three quarters. One day I opened a closet in the storage room and found them. I went in that room all the time and knew they hadn’t been there before. Besides, there wasn’t much in that closet. Most of the storage was in the room itself. Still, I thought maybe I had dropped them from something and hadn’t noticed. I picked them up, and they were three brand new state quarters. I can’t remember the states they were, but it was that year that the state coins were popular. I quickly put them in with the rest of my money and spent them eventually, deciding that if they were from a haunting it must have been a friendly one for them to give me money. I thought maybe someone deceased close to me had done it for me. Now I’m glad that I spent them, though, because I’m not sure and it’s really creepy to think about.
Right now I live in an apartment, and it seems fine. I haven’t experienced any hauntings here. I hope that it’s all over now, and I can live the rest of my life in peace without being in the presence of the paranormal.
(Note- I'm just happy to have the chance to contribute to this community. Positive comments are appreciated, but all else will be ignored. This creepypasta is what it is.)