I needed desperately to find a place for myself and three children to live. I was a single father, and I was about to find myself and my children homeless. I had answered just about every ad in the newspaper for rentals. One evening I received a call from this woman telling me about this house. She said it was a rather large old house that was in very good shape. She invited me to an open house, which was to be held that coming Sunday.
You can't imagine the surprise when my daughter and I entered the old house. We were standing in a living room with cherubs surrounding the top of the walls all the way around the room. The house had two floors. Three bedrooms. A large family kitchen with a mud room that lead to the back door. The upstairs bedrooms had a breezeway that could be accessed from either room. The basement had an old butchers shower and a fruit cellar. It was more house than we ever imagined for the price and immediately made up our minds that we had to have it. Anyone who has lived in an apartment for two years with three children would understand our desperation. We had to have this house.
We spoke with the landlady and she gave us an application to fill out. There were many people there looking at the house so we knew we would have to compete to be its tenants. I handed my application to the landlady. "You understand the responsibility that comes with living in an old house such as this?" she asked. "Oh, yes I understand. It's beautiful. The house was going to be ours to rent.
The first night in the house went by without much fanfare. maybe because we were so tired from the move or maybe because the house wanted to draw us in a little closer before beginning its series of attacks and assaults upon us. The next morning started like most any other day, except I did notice one strange thing about the house. Each of the houses interior doors had an old fashioned hook and eye latch, but not on the inside of doors to keep someone out. The latches were on the outside of the rooms doors as if to keep something in. "What is it dad?" my youngest son asked from behind. "Oh nothing." I replied and went about the business of unpacking our things.
The first incident happened in the living room. I was hanging a large picture of two angels. my daughter thought that this would compliment the cherubs that surrounded the room. I hung the picture and turned to walk away, when I heard a crash. I turned to see that the picture had fallen to the floor. I hung the picture once again. Turned away, and again a crash. The picture was on the floor. I hung it once again. This time when I turned and started walking away I felt a rush of air and something hit the back of my ankles. "What the hell" I turned to see the picture laying at my feet. More determined than ever I hung the picture again. This time saying loudly, "Stay there dammit." I had to laugh because I was alone. Who did I think I was talking to.
The kids were playing on the front porch."Dad come and see this," my daughters voice rang through the front door. I stepped out onto the porch. "Sit down and watch this." she said excitedly. "Watch what?" My daughter pointed to an old man walking down the sidewalk toward our house, but when he reached our property line he quickly crossed the street and continued his walk on the opposite sidewalk. "They don't like walking in front of our house dad. Isn't that weird?", she was right. I sat on that porch for a good three hours watching our neighbors cross the street away from our house on their walks. A couple of times I motioned as if to say hello and they just dropped their heads and continued on their way, but this time a little faster. "Maybe they are uncomfortable with new neighbors?" I rationalized trying to make sense out of the senseless. We went inside for dinner and the rest of the night passed without incident.
Sunday, the kids came home from church excited because we had set aside the whole day to work on our yard. This was a big deal for us because, it was our first yard. We mowed the grass, cleaned out the leaves from under the porch and in the front yard. Strangely enough the trees seemed to be shedding their leaves as if it were fall. Strange tree behavior I thought. I asked my youngest son to go inside and bring out the garden hose that was in the basement so we could clean off the walkways and wash down the weathered white of the house. A few moments passed when I heard him screaming from inside the house. I ran in frantically to find him standing in the middle of the kitchen shaking. Standing in a puddle of urine. "What's wrong? What happened?" Looking at me with the scared eyes of a child, "Something chased me up the basement steps." "What chased you?" I asked already thinking the over active imagination of a little boy was at play here. "I don't know daddy, but it was big." Me and my other two children checked the basement, but found nothing except for the garden hose that had been dropped on the scared run.
Things were starting to happen. Every day we would leave the house, and every night we would come home to find every light in the house turned on. I would blame the children for turning on every light in the house before leaving that morning. The next day my daughter and I sent the boys to the car while we went back and toured the house looking for any forgotten light. All lights off. That night we returned home to again find every light burning. I walked into the house that night a little shaken. I had no logical reason for all of the lights being on other than that there was someone in our house. I searched the house in a panic, but found nothing or no one. "Daddy, its cold in here." my daughter stated from the living room. What was she talking about? Sweat was pouring down my back and across my brow. I stepped into the living room. The temperature dropped what seemed a good thirty degrees. That was the first time I felt its presence.
I can't describe it as anything more than an electrical current running through my body that brought tears to my eyes and bumps to my arms. It passed quickly. I remember thinking, "What the hell was that?" "Daddy its getting warm in here." And sure enough the temperature was rising as I watched the thermostat climb. That night my children slept with me. What little sleep I got.
Soon after we were sitting in the living room talking. The kids had their backs to the living room which I am still thankful for. The memory of what was to happen still haunts my dreams to this day. I noticed it first out of the corner of my eye. A quick glance. Something moving, standing at the kitchen doorway that led into the family room. Not something, but some one. It was a dark figure of a man even though there was full light. He was solid in form except there was a moving, churning of what appeared to be dark gray, black smoke or mist that made up his form. I looked down because I was sure I wasn't seeing this. My eyes were playing tricks on me. I was sure that when I looked up again that it would be gone. One or two good rationalizations and we could go on with our lives. A few moments passed. I looked up again. He was still there, and he began to move. He moved into the family room pausing in the center of the room his form still a mass of churning turning blackness. He stood there for what seemed an eternity, but in actuality it was only a few moments and then he melted into the air. We have to leave this house NOW.
We moved slowly out the front door. I turned to lock the door when a loud painful scream of a man came up from inside the house. A man voice screaming in pain. So loud that it could be heard through out the neighborhood and the neighbors dogs began to bark. To hell with orderly. "Get in the car!" I screamed at my children. We were on a dead run now. The drive to my Mom's house is still a blur to this day. I was in a panic and I knew that we had to get away from the old white house. I do remember as we were driving away my youngest son very scared now saying, "Daddy the basement monster is standing in the upstairs window." I looked back and sure enough the black form was there standing in the window watching us leave.
That night we stayed at my parents house. We had to go back to the big old white house. What else were we to do? Besides, after a week of talking myself out of the events of that night I was ready to return. So return we did.
The rest of the long weekend came and went. I actually had convinced myself that it was just a one time ordeal because nothing was happening now. That was until Monday night. I was on the phone with my mom. The kids were off playing in my bedroom which was also located on the first floor. While talking to my Mom, I heard the doors rattle. Not the outside doors, but the inside doors of the house. I listened. They rattled again. I yelled at the kids to quit playing games. I told my Mom that everything was okay just the kids playing tricks. They rattled again, this time harder. I scolded the children this time louder to behave and stop playing tricks. At this time they rattled louder, but before I could scold, my daughters scared voice cut me off. "Daddy, I'm in here reading and the boys are asleep.
I will try to recreate what happens next to the best of memory. Some of it I remember clearly. Other parts are still to this day a blur. Just as soon as I heard my daughter the temperature in the house dropped a good thirty degrees. With it that electrical charged feeling running through my body. Along with its energy a horrible stench that goes beyond description. And then the screaming started softly at first, but building in momentum. I screamed through the phone at my mother to come help. As we were getting out. The whole house began to shake and come alive. From the above I could hear something large coming down the stairs. Boom, !Boom! BOOM! The screaming of the man over and over. The screaming of my daughter, "Daddy what is happening!" And the thought that one of my two bedroom doors connected to the stairs. BOOM! BOOM! It was coming down those stairs! I had to get to my children! The whole house was alive with noise. The floor beneath me was shaking as I made my way to opposite bedroom door. I felt something behind me and I knew I didn't want to turnaround to see it.
A new scream mixed into the mans scream this one of a child. BOOM! SCREAMS! BOOM! I make it to my bedroom door. It wouldn't open. By this time I am screaming myself. throwing myself against the door. It wouldn't open, throwing myself against the door again and again, it finally slams open. My daughter is in shock by this point. I instruct my middle son to grab his brother and run out the front door and head for the car. BOOM! BOOM! SCREAMS! My daughter couldn't move. I finally slap her to bring her to life. She responds and I grab her and head for the door as, I hear the other bedroom door slam open behind us. I was on our trail and I new I couldn't let it reach us. The whole house still shaking and alive with noise and something big on our heels. We reach the front door and out onto the porch. I slam the front door behind us. We get to the car noise still coming from the house. I drive away and park at the top of the street where I can look into the house and wait for my parents to arrive. While there my children and I see it searching through the house. Searching for us! It's blackness moving from room to room methodically.
That was our last night in the house. My children never returned. I returned to get a few of our things when needed and everyone I brought into that house with me would witness something happening . A scream, whispers, pounding from the floor above. It was not selective at who it let hear its fury. About a year ago, someone I know saw a police car race up to that house one night and saw a family running out of its front door in their night clothes. I remember what the old lady said to me as I turned over the key. Standing there, the whole side of my arm and torso still bruised from throwing myself against that bedroom door. "Some people are meant to live in an old house like that, and some people arn't. I never thought you were the old house type." And I guess she was right.
You see I do believe in ghosts.Sometimes the screams still wake me from my sleep. Its infectious scream creeping into my dreams turning them into nightmares. I still don't sleep very well. I still hear the Grunting, panting and labored breathing. I do indeed believe in ghost.
Maybe you should too.
Story submitted by: Steven A LaChance
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