Once I got to 12th grade I had stopped wearing my cross, it no longer did anything but make me more scared. Where times I’d go into my parents room to wrap presents, and I’d be sitting there quietly wrapping and the blood-curling screams that ripped from under their bed. The slow scratching of nails against wood that would scare me from their room.
It was odd, father and I went fishing a lot during the night.. I always saw shadows standing around outside, it never made sense and I usually kept quiet. I was driving us home from a fishing trip though and it seemed whenever i passed a certain graveyard I panicked. I would always see someone standing in the middle of the road, waving slowly at me. I would swerve so bad I would scare my father into yelling at me. The point that I tried to explain I saw someone in the road that he stopped letting me drive home during the night.
The only time I really felt safe to tell anyone about anything was with my ex. He understood, and I told him I wasn’t scared at his house, that I didn’t panic and I didn’t cry. I was content and could just lay in the dark there and settle. Walk to my car in the dark and not even be scared. But when I’d get away from his house it’d start again, I’d see people in my rear-view mirror, sitting in my backseat.. and of course I had to pass that same damn graveyard. He eventually started to drive past it for me, and I’d stare at the floor of my car until we got past it.
Eventually my parents let him come into staying over at my place.. though the second night he eventually came up to me and asked me if my house was haunted. He asked if I saw certain people who fit my descriptions, and what was with the noises at night and the fact that you could hear people walking through the house. I laughed, told him that this is what I was talking about, and he hated coming back to the house. He hated sleeping over it seemed, and he eventually stopped coming before breaking up with me.
Lately it has been quiet, we are moving so we have been painting. We moved me out of my room into my sisters old room.. But.. I still get the feeling I’m being watched, the room is always cold so I always have at least five blankets on my bed. Whenever I come downstairs I continue to see things, I continue to have my nightmares and I continue to get made fun of.
I worked at Walmart and people would pick on me.. because I;d be standing on my side of electronics putting stuff away. And I’d keep hearing my name being shouted. I’d yell what, what did you need? But no one would answer. So I would walk off back to where my coworkers were, who always questioned me why I was yelling to myself. But I swore I kept hearing my name, ironically its a woman every time.
We plan on moving in March, but to say the least I know these guys will follow me. The only thing I’m worried about is that it’ll get worse.. But.. I’m tired of hiding it from people, I know other people have problems with ghosts and hauntings.. maybe I could get some help, find out what they want or need..
But otherwise I will keep this updated. Most likely every day.. as it seems to happen everyday anyway. Even now I can feel the eyes on me.. the flicks in the reflection of the television.. but all I can do is smile.
During highschool it only got worse, my nightmares got more vivid. My deaths became more descriptive, the monsters that I saw every night since I was a child still appeared in my dreams.. and that woman always seemed to be in them mocking me.
My father had started to umpire softball and baseball so I was usually left home alone at night. I hated it, I usually sat in the living room on the side of the room where I couldn’t see into the kitchen or upstairs. I stayed away from windows and kept the television on to prevent some things. But there was times I had to walk to the kitchen, I’d gaze up the stairs and at the landing my mother of course had a mirror. I’d always see someone standing at the top of the steps, smiling.. Or walking past to my mom’s room. Then I’d go into the kitchen, get what I need and head back into the living room they were gone. That’s because when I’d turn the corner into the living room they were always standing infront of my father’s chair in the corner of the room. I’d jump and do a double-take and they were always gone. Or times I’d be sitting in my chair that had a nice view out into the kitchen. Someone always stood in the hallway to the kitchen at 9pm, every night it never failed.
One night though it had changed, I had began to tell my parents of my nightmares and my scares. But my father threatened to take me to a mental hospital, which I agreed he should do maybe they would find out what was wrong. My mom wouldn’t let me go though, she even offered me a blessed cross, which I wore every day and never took it off. but. that only seemed to make things worse..
I was working on homework and the printer had ran out of paper. We kept it under the desk so I crawled under and grabbed the box. I figured things had gotten better with me using the cross, as the scares seemed to stop. But I had leaned out, sitting back to fill the paper when I was met face to face with.. something.. I cannot even explain.
It wasn’t like the other things i saw, instead it was pure white.. Hollowed eyes out in black, and a smile.. That smile that made me tense. I had gasped, and suddenly I was on my back. Whatever it was had grabbed my throat and shoved me onto my back. Nothing had ever touched me before, let alone shove me out of their way. I cried once more, crawled into the couch and didn’t move. I never told my parents, I knew they wouldn’t believe me.
Everything seemed to double, my nightmares were constant. Usually if I woke up they would stop and change to something else.. But now when I slept and woke up before going back to sleep the dreams would continue. The hard part was I knew I was dreaming as well, as the places were the same every time. The one night I had a pressing on my chest, took my breath away and I couldn’t get up. Eventually when I did fully wake up I was out of breath, and so tired I just rolled back over and fell back to sleep.
To times where I’d be at work alone.. and I’d hear people calling my name, whispering to me. I’d turn and there would be no one there, and I just couldn’t understand.
Of course I’m leaving things out, but it has been a long time since this had all happened.. I only tell the things that stick out most.. but from now on I’ll post everything I remember in the next posts. Mostly since it had gotten worse.
I hated the house we were to move in the very first day I saw it.. I felt as if I was being watched, as if something was following us around every room when we checked it out the first time. I remember sitting in the room that was going to be mine, staring at the window and eventually telling my parents that I hated it and I didn’t want to come here. They told me to pretty much get over here, and I hid in ‘my’ closet and cried. I clutched my legs and begged to let us go home.. but it wouldn’t happen. I looked around the closet and I got a chill, the hairs on my neck stood up and I just tensed. I quickly got out of it and gazed back, just staring at the empty area before I quickly left the room to join my parents.
I was walking down the steps and.. the weirdest thing, footprints in the carpet. Much like a child of at least five or six, and nothing of that was even around. I remember getting down and rubbing my hand against the carpet in an attempt to make it go away, but it wouldn’t. I was happy when we left the house, but unfortunately we would be coming back.
When we were finally settled I had automatically decided that I would never go in my mother’s room. It scared me, and made my heart go into my throat. Her room was of course connected to the only bathroom upstairs, so I constantly locked the door that led into her bedroom. I really don’t remember much of being young in the house.. Though I do remember my mother had tucked me in and I was laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. Once more they had faced my bed towards the window, and the right side of my bed faced the door. So if I looked to the left I could see my sister’s room, infront of me was my window then to the right top corner was my closet. I never left the closet door open, it scared me.
Either way my television was on my dresser to the left of my window, and I was contently watching television. Then suddenly the wind was knocked out of me, as if someone had punched me in the back. Though.. it wasn’t possible right? I laid there confused until it happened again, this time the bed seemed to ‘pop’ under me with the quick blows. I was quiet, and I stared at the television, even closed my eyes. That only made it worse, the slow rasp of a breath and the banging stopped. No one heard it but me, which made it worse. I was obsessed with books, and I had them stacked up near my closet. Well, the rasp went away then suddenly a sharp bang. I opened my eyes and leaned up to turn my light on. The books had been scattered around my room as if someone walked in and kicked them. The next day I got scolded for staying up late and ‘banging’.. I just couldn’t explain it.
Most nights were the same over and over, the constant banging, rasping, and the fact I never opened my blinds. I had ran upstairs because my parents wanted me to change into my pajamas. I was standing at my dresser and something made me freeze in my tracks. A gentle tapping against my window, three times. I just stared at my dresser, before gazing to the window figuring something hit against it. The thing was I don’t have a tree next to my window and I was on the second floor.. Then it happened again, louder and it made my breath catch. I looked away, gazing to the television screen. There had been something standing beside me and quickly it darted though the screen and out my bedroom door towards my mother’s room. I couldn’t breath, I just stared after it before finally turning. Then it happened again, three quick knocks on my window. I swallowed and turned quickly changing and running downstairs. I never looked in my television screen when its turned off, even now I don’t.
Then my parents had redone the bathroom, so now instead of having a curtain to the shower they put in glass doors. I hated it, the curtain I could position so I could watch out the door and watched for stuff. Because whenever I’d look away there would always be something running from my room to my mothers, or the other way around. But now these glass doors.. made it worse. I was in middle school by then, haven taken showers and the like by myself and having to wake my mom up right before we left. I had an extreme flair of nightmares mostly of ones that left me breathless or crying. Ones that I can barely remember, but it always had to do with the bathroom or the outside in the rain. I would always either die or get hurt by the same thing. A person who looked.. waterlogged, black hollow eyes, a woman. She mocked me with her smirks, hair long and dingy, like she had been rolling through wet mud. I tried time after time to tell my mother, my best friends about this.. but no one seemed to believe me or would mock me. She visited me every night, and I just couldn’t handle it. When I got older I’d stay up until I saw daylight, then go to sleep. Usually that meant I stayed up until 5-6 am, would sleep for about a hour, then go to school. I took my time in just sleeping in classes, teachers eventually gave up on trying to wake me up.
There had been one morning when I was on edge. The night before I had been laying in bed and once I turn off my light or tv I never open my eyes again until morning. I was laying on my stomach and there was the rasp again, slow and steady. It headed through the hallway and headed into my room, and I could feel the stare, right at the side of my face. It knew I was awake, just slowly walking around from side to side of my bed. This happened a lot mind you, I’d eventually get tired of it and simply say for it to leave me alone, to go away I was too tired to deal with it. I couldn’t leave limbs outside of the blankets, as the gentle trail of fingers dragged up whatever skin was bared to be touched. Though anyway, I had just gotten out of the shower.
I had gazed in the large mirror above the sink as I tried to stand far back to the shower just incase something would walk past the bathroom once more. I thought I had saw someone standing there and usually I’d call out simply ‘Mom?’ and find out if she was really there or not. But.. there was no response. So I urged myself to hurry, to finish what I was doing.
Throwing the towel on my head I began to quickly dry my hair, eyes shut as I worked. Then… I opened my eyes, and there it was again. My head was down so I was staring at the ground, but there was someone standing next to me. Their legs were muddy, darkened and grey legs bare and in a dress of sorts. My breathing caught and I just stared then I jumped back. I yelped, yanked the towel off my head and looked forward.. but there was no one there. I had cried that morning, and I stopped drying my hair where I didn’t watch around me so I wasn’t caught off gaurd again.
Then the nights where I’d have to run downstairs.. I’d be sitting in my room and whenever I’d hear my mom downstairs I’d run down to join her. Though.. this night was different. For some reason my sister’s door kept slowly opening then closing. It drove me nuts, so I got up and eventually put books infront of it so it would stop moving then I went back to my room. I was sitting in the room and all of a sudden the sharp bangs that ripped through my ears again. I muted my television and there it was again. My room was right above the kitchen so I always figure its my mother downstairs getting snacks out of the cubboard. But..no. I got up and quickly ran to my parents room and questioned them crying if they heard anything. I begged them that someone was in the house, someone was downstairs. But my father yelled at me that there was nothing. the house was quiet. But I heard it. I had stepped out of the bedroom after being yelled at and went downstairs with my heart in my throat. I walked around the kitchen, no one was there. I would of saw my sister if she came out of her room, but she wasn’t there nor was my mother. I walked to the cubboards and opened them.. shut them, then turned around and headed back towards the steps. I stared into the living room before turning and heading up the stairs. Once I was about to hit the first landing the same waterlogged hands dove out from the railing. I remember slamming myself against the wall to get away from them, eyes wide and I couldn’t breath. But.. then it was gone, but I felt watched. I had ran upstairs and shut the door behind me. I never went down at night again, and I never looked back when I walked up the stairs.. And I thought it couldn’t get worse.. and I got older.
I’ve always had trouble with the topics of ghosts, the dark, and nighttime. It started at a very young age that I can remember. I had just moved to PA and I was five years old. I was stuck upstairs and I always got a chill up my neck that made my breath catch in my throat. I would sit on my bed and would always have my door shut because of the fact that I would always see something walking around the hallway. Being curious I would usually get up and check it out, or simply call and ask my mom what she wanted. But there was never any response. I rarely went into the bathroom by myself, having to be forced to go and take baths just so I could get clean.. Or I would beg my mother to see if I could shower with her ‘to save bathwater’. In mornings I would run halfway down the steps, then the ceiling would part so you could see down into the living room.
I planned my steps then would run downstairs and turn on the two lights that were near the couch then sit down on the couch out of breath. I would run so fast that I’d hold my breath, give myself panic attacks it seemed. One at five years wouldn’t really constantly have problems like this. I rarely stayed outside in my backyard alone as well. I’d be walking around and every time I’d go near the shed I’d hear light whispers, as if I was being urged to get closer. Though.. I could never go behind there by myself.
I don’t remember much of the PA house, just that there would be nights that the power would go out from the storms. Of course every time I’d be in the bathroom taking a bath. I’d scream, yank the plug out of the tub and grab a towel and run out of the bathroom breathless and find my dad downstairs in his shed mostly because my mother worked nights. I would stand around in my towel, quiet and scared that something was going to get me.
Though.. my parents always told me it was in my head. Then I’d get in bed, and I’d lay back. My bed was in the middle of the room next to the lightswitch, and straight across was a window. Every night there was a figure dressed in a large brown jacket and a ratty old fisherman hat. He’d just stand there, tapping at my window, and I’d just stare back at him. We were quiet, I told my mother and father about it quite a few times but always blamed it on the shadows. I knew it wasn’t, I would talk to him, ask how he got up there, why he was there.. But he would just smile and watch me. So.. eventually I just figured he was there to watch me.
Though nightmares started, ones of such detail that wouldn’t be expected out of a five year old. Ones of demons mostly, snakes and cats. I’d be downstairs in the house either sitting on the couch and always alone and it was always dark. I’d stand up and walk towards the steps, and there was always ghosts. Most of the time I’d end up dying in my dreams, where my skin was torn off, I was strangled, stabbed, beaten to death, or eaten. But there was just one time that I got up the steps in my dream, the creatures yelling at me that I was going the wrong way, that I didn’t need to go that way. But.. I didn’t listen, and when I reached the top step my vision went white and I woke up. My nightmares had stopped, and I no longer saw the man in my window.. But.. At age ten my father got a new job, and we had to move down to SC. I hated traveling at night, the fact that we had to walk around the motels and hotels at night made my skin crawl and my breath hitch… and little did I know moving to SC was going to make everything worse.