I was always a fan of the paranormal, although I never really took stock in their validity. I enjoyed to read and listen to "ghost stories," while still retaining some cynicism. I suppose this is where I tell you when I started to truly believe in the validity of the stories I've read and heard of in the past.
This story happened to me several years ago as I was staying over my uncle and aunt's house in Broomfield, Colorado. I was 19 at the time. (I am now 23) They lived in a quaint 3-bedroom cottage style house. I always loved to visit them because my aunt was one of my most eccentric aunts, and I'm drawn to eccentric people.
My uncle was one of the nicest men I know. They had a little boy who they had adopted one year prior to this story. He was a peculiar boy. I believe he was 4 at the time I visited. I'll call him Bruce.
Now, I visited my aunt and uncle all the time throughout my childhood, and I never experienced anything in their house before, but the experiences I've had in their house happened AFTER Bruce arrived.
When I arrived at the house, I first greeted my aunt, who ran up to my car. My uncle was away on a business trip. I have never seen Bruce before this, so I was quite excited to see one of my cousins for the first time. So anyways, I greeted her and, as I was hugging her, I saw, staring at us through the window, what was a wisp of a boy. He was cute, black hair, and light blue eyes, very uncommon looking, although a very picturesque little boy. I could see why they adopted him - he was beautiful. He had these intense, ice blue eyes, which were fixed on me as I hugged his mother. They were almost piercing.
As I walked into the cottage, Bruce immediately ran to his mother's side, behind her leg and stared at me. I went over to hug him and give him a kiss. He complied, however as I hugged him, I noticed that his skin was cold and clammy. I figured that he was just sick or something. Another thing, he had an extraordinarily deep voice for a 4- year old. Nothing demonic or anything, but on the verge of being an oddity.
Anyways, the first day went by with no incident. I asked my aunt where Bruce was from, and she said that they had adopted him from Sweden or something. I forgot, but it was some obscure town there. As I was talking to her however, I noticed that Bruce was peering at me from down the hall. So, little Bruce was in the habit of staring at me. He did it quite often after that. I brushed it off as a kid thing, although there was something that freaked me out about that kid – he had an intense stare, which gave me the heeby jeebies.
The next night, I was sleeping in the guest room, which is further from the other two rooms and close to the kitchen. A night owl, I couldn't go to sleep, so I went in the kitchen to get a midnight snack. Now, as I was walking over to the kitchen, I hear little Bruce’s voice talking to what I thought was my aunt. But as I stepped into the kitchen, the woman’s voice faded and I saw an aggravated Bruce snap his head towards me and squint his eyes. Okay. Let me just say that this is not normal. I could handle his constant staring at me, even his unnaturally deep voice, but this thing that I had just witnessed earned him the endearing nickname "psycho Bruce," to me. I never let his mother know about that, I thought, why worry her?
The third night, around 3 in the morning, I heard this sound. It was kind of like something being moved on the kitchen counter. Maybe I'm stupid, maybe I was just tired and curious, but I think I was just stupid, I don't know. But any person in their right mind, after experiencing what happened the previous night, would NOT get back up and go to the kitchen to investigate. You can guess what I did. Yes, I got up and checked.
As I slowly stepped into the kitchen, I see a glass on the kitchen counter swirl round and round by itself. Let me reiterate. BY ITSELF. As weird as that sounds, this is not the freaky part. Behind the counter, I see a dark haired woman, with ice blue eyes. Now, my aunt has faux blonde hair, okay. So, this could not have been my aunt. She looked up at me, and looked at the floor. I didn't notice, I guess since, stupidly, the spinning glass got all of my attention, but psycho Bruce was sitting on the floor. He had his head flicked to me at this point. He did not look happy. Darn, I guess I always interrupt him when he’s, oh, bringing death and damnation to my aunt’s and uncle’s home. I've always wondered what I would do in this kind of predicament. Should I run, invite them to have tea, or maybe call my aunt. I opted to high tail my happy little butt out of there. I did hear, after locking myself in the guest room, a glass shatter. Now, I guess stupidity flows strong in me, because I didn't tell my aunt anything that happened. I just left the next day after my uncle came home.
As I was leaving, I turned around to wave goodbye to my aunt, when who happened to be staring out the window at me? Little psycho Bruce.
During my drive home, I decided that the woman who I saw behind the counter must have been Bruce’s mother or relative or something. Since eye color is recessive and she had Bruce’s same eyes. I did notice, in the midst of all that freakiness that she was a very beautiful woman.
Sadly (not really to me), 2 years ago, a few of Bruce’s relations in Sweden wanted Bruce back. My aunt was in love with the little devil, so she fought long and hard for him but his relatives won, so he was sent back. I never saw him again. My aunt found out a little more about Bruce. His real name was Arhol or something. His father was long absent and his mother was depressed, so she wanted to kill herself and Bruce by drowning. She succeeded in killing herself, but Bruce survived. He was found and taken into an orphanage. I guess his relatives only recently found out his whereabouts.
My aunt and uncle are currently in the process of adopting a little girl. I can't wait to meet her. Anything’s got to be better than Bruce. Freaky stuff.
Anyways, Thank you for reading my story.