My story involves my boyfriend's old farmhouse, dated back long ago. The owner was George Washington's secretary. There is one smaller barn next to the house that has an eerie basement section that we all suspect was the slave headquarters and a large barn that recently burned down.
It's a nice location and generally a cozy home. Of course the floors are creaky but none of my accounts involve creaks in the night.
The first prominent incident was before I met my boyfriend but during a birthday while hitting the pinata in the kitchen. In the kitchen is a cupboard looking door which actually turns out to be a set of spiraling staircase to a bedroom upstairs. The door is locked from the kitchen side and everyone was in the kitchen. During the game, everyone heard loud footsteps running down the stairs and then stopped. It got silent and then the door swung open to hit one of the members from the backside. There was no one behind the door of course.
Later that day my boyfriend's mother was vacuuming in the living room and saw a large black shadow of a man sliver across the wall and exit the house.
Those were the popular stories of THEIR experiences. Now mine aren't as violent but definitely made me not want to take a midnight stroll to any bathrooms.
In the beginning my boyfriend would often sit outside until late at night listening to music from my car and would hear voices. Some sounded exactly like his mother's, and they would call out "JOEL" (his name). He would go to the house and ask his mom what she wanted just to come back and tell me she was asleep. We would always hear his name called out and one of the times, she wasn't even home.
Now, that is not so unusual, and other than extreme feelings of overwhelming fear coming in waves when passing the "slave house", only one more experience happened in my presence there. One night when I slept over, no one was home but Joel, me, and my baby. It was the fourth of July, this year, and it rained so I didn't want my child out in the damp.
We were watching T.V. and put it on mute to listen better to a steady noise coming from upstairs. I went to the foot of the stairs and heard distinct bootsteps pacing from one end of the house to the other. It grew louder and louder, faster and unearthly faster to a point where not even an Olympic sprinter could imitate. I tried to ignore it to stay sane but even with the T.V. on loud I still heard the echoing tromps. We ended up sleeping at my house that night.
My last little story isn't of that house but my own. Joel slept over one night and my living room light kept going on and off. That wasn't so unusual because it has a short in the cord but just as I was explaining that to my boyfriend, the lamp in my computer room went CLICK-CLICK (the sound of the chain being PULLED to be turned on) and the light went on. He went to the bathroom shortly after and a loud pound or punch rather was made on the closed door from the outside. He came running down the stairs faster than I've ever seen him move. Needless to say, again it was him, my baby, and me home alone and it certainly wasn't me knocking on the door (let alone my sleeping baby).
Maybe these stories don't sound all that scary but they scared the crap out of us. Other than the words on the screen, I can't attach the feelings that occurred uncontrollably.