by Julie Egan and Nick Narris
The house we lived in was haunted. A man named Walter died in the house from an asthma attack. During the sale of the house, Tim, his son, did not disclose that his father had died in the house. It ended up being the room that I had been sleeping in.
Little stuff would happen like lights flickering and a creaking in the house. There were dark shadows about three feet tall that would run down the hallway and cold spots all around the house.
One night, my sister was sleeping and woke up screaming. My mom ran upstairs to her, and she had a bite mark on her forehead. My step dad would wake up screaming as if someone was sitting on his chest. It felt like someone was always watching you. My bedroom door would always shake, open and close by itself. The cable cords would come out of the floor and whip against the wall. There were also moans and groans emanating throughout the house.
One time we had a few people over, and we were all around the table and had one of those police flashlights on the table. The light somehow got knocked off the table and landed straight up on the floor. It was common for the blankets on our beds to mysteriously be yanked off when we slept, and we would be awakened by it.
I can recall my mom hearing a noise, and it happened between 3:00 and 4:45 in the morning. She heard a "swooshing noise," and woke my step dad up, thinking it was someone messing with his Asplin truck. He went to go check on it, and my mom was close behind him. She stood in front of the laundry room. He came back in and said no one was outside and that's when they found the lamp. It looked like the brass rod in the middle of the lamp was ripped out and swung around until it broke the top glass piece of the lamp. All the pieces of the lamp were on the table, and the lamp was on the floor.
My uncle Bob was sleeping in my mom's room and he had awoke to a woman with long black hair and skinny, pale, long, cold skinny fingers, choking him. The next day he woke and told us the story, and we witnessed the bruising on his neck. He said he was moving out that day, and he followed through with it.
After things got worse, my mom put her foot down and said, "Enough with it all." She went to our local West Branch Church where she was married and asked the pastor to come and bless the house. But first, he wanted some evidence. We set up a tape recorder while we went to Kmart. When we came back to listen to it, we heard noises beyond the grave. There was screaming, yelling, screeching, slamming; and the dog wanted out of its pen -- dying to get out. We brought the tape to the pastor, and he jokingly said, "It's an excellent day for an exorcism." He said he would bless the house. After he did, it eased up for a while; but then it started up again. My mom got into witchcraft, then, we moved. As far as we know, the home is still standing; and if you live or want to live in this area, check your local library for past history.