The house didn't feel right from the minute we walked
through the door. It was an old house my wife Nell's
grandmother had bequeathed to her. Nell remembered the dread
she always felt as a child, when summer rolled around. She
would spend the summers with her much loved Nana. Much as she
had loved her, she always hated the cold and musty odor the
house seemed to eminate. Nana's wonderful country cooking
wouldn't even help to dispel the cold and dampness of the old
house. The house had an ominous past, and it still had the
same malignant presence.
We moved into the house just before the start of spring.
The children refused to go to bed with out both the bedroom
and hall lights on. We would turn them off before we retired,
leaving just the night light on.
The youngest, four year old Tammy, would have the whole
family running in response to her sudden screams of fright.
"EYES, MOMMY, there are EYES watching me". There was no calming
her when she would get that frightened. The two older boys
just stood there nodding. They had also on occasion seen what
appeared to be eyes peering out of the darkness.
We were besides ourselves. I had more than once sensed a
presence. I even had some extra lights installed in the
basement. Nell would only go to the basement when I was in the
house. The washer and dryer were in the basement, so laundry
was done only on the week-ends when I was home.
We were fast approaching the fall weather. The old house
was full of drafts. The fireplace was closed up while Nell's
grandmother was still in residence. We had put in a new
furnace, but it seemed it was impossible to heat the old
house. The children's rooms had a deadly chill, though the
heat was turned up as high as it would go. Since our room
seemed the warmest, we moved all three in the big bedroom that
we used. This would be our first winter in the old house.
The first night in their new room was like hell had opened
up and swallowed the whole family. It was almost three in the
morning when the first scream broke the silence. By the time
we reached the children's room, all three were screaming and
shaking. I thought for a minute they woke up and started to
fight with one another. Eight year old Mark had a deep welt
across his back. His pajama top lay on the floor in shreds.
Tammy and Malcolm were now shaking so hard they seemed to have
been stunned into a voiceless scream. The room had taken on a
chill that can only be described as deadly.
We grabbed up the children and ran downstairs to the
kitchen. After a while the children calmed down enough to
relate the nights events.
Mark had awakened to see something standing besides Tammy's
bed. When its hand reached out and snatched off the blanket
that was covering her, Mark started screaming. This is when he
felt a burning sting across his back. He was not even aware of
his pajama top being ripped from his body. Ten year old
Malcolm sat paralyzed in the bed. He said the eyes were
telling him not to move. We would not
spend another night in that house.
The next morning we were all packed into the car, heading
for Nell's mother. She would be only too happy to take us in
until we could sell the house and find another dwelling.
Two months later, the local church purchased the house. It
was to be used as a temporary home for delinquent boys. The
night before we were going to sign the closing on the house,
the house mysteriously burned down.
The local paper reported the police as saying,"The scorched bones found in the basement,
were neither human or animal". It is still under
investigation.