To begin, I am one who believes in what people would not consider mainstream. I believe in the supernatural, truly, because there isn't much else for me to believe. I am young and I live in a small town about 45 minutes away from Chicago. My experiences are not large or expansive with those from the other side, but more subtle and questionable. These are my experiences.
I shall begin with things that are odd about my house. I've lived in this house all of my life, and it is nothing more than a simple ranch house with one floor and a basement, which has been recently remodeled. I mainly live at the southern end of the house, where my room and the computer room is located. As you walk down the hall, my room is to the left and the computer room to the right at the very end. Though I am not afraid of the dark or anything, there are times where I do not want it to be dark. I get the feelings on and off, usually when I'm moving across the hall from the bathroom to my room. It feels like something is following me usually, not just watching. So, I almost always leave the tableside light on in my room just in case I get one of those "feelings."
To continue, I will talk about the odd connections between my room and the computer room. They both have something to do with my late grandfather that died when I was only two years old. Originally, he and my grandmother shared my room, but after his death, my room was switched to that room while my grandmother slept in my previous, smaller room. As for the computer room, when the basement was remodeled a large bookcase was moved up into here. Most of the books belonged to my grandfather, with only a few being my mothers. It makes the room smell musty, and whenever my stepsister (who is a couple of days older than I) stays over in the room, she has to have me close the blinds for her because she's too scared to do so herself, and she can't explain why. Another odd connection between the two rooms is the fact that the temperature is hardly ever comfortable for the time of year. It can be too cold or hot, or too dry or too humid. My room is more frequently cold than warm, while the computer room is the opposite. I don't know if it is the location of the rooms or what, so I can't really say if they have anything to do with whatever is living here, which I shall explain when I tell you about the basement. In my room, there is a thermometer by the window that tells you the temperature outside and inside. Once in winter, I woke up in the morning to find that I could see my own breath. It was so incredibly cold, so I got up and scampered over to check the thermometer. The windows were closed tight, and the temperature inside was nearly the same as outside by about 20 degrees. I went into the hall to see if the heat was on, and I found that it was warm as I left and walked down the hall to see if the thermostat was set right. The heat was most definitely on, and when I returned to my room, it had become significantly warmer than the minute before. Now, the computer room has white carpeting, and we know that white carpet is a hassle. Recently, there have been odd stains on the carpet that are yellowish in color. They're sort of shaped like deer's hooves, and my mom swears that they must have been left there from her coming in with her clogs on. I really can't agree with her, though I have nothing to really back up what I think.
Basements are places that many people are very uncomfortable with, and are often associated with ghost stories. The only part of the basement that ever really bothered me was the laundry room. Now, don't get me wrong, this isn't a tiny little white laundry room that many are probably used to seeing. It's a room larger than mine is, that has a refrigerator, another computer, the washer and dryer, an old sink that 3 people could sit in. Including all of the heating and cooling systems in the house, along with a hole that has something to with our well water that about 2 people could stand in with a decaying and rusty cover. I always hated going into that room, but I often must go in there for laundry or something. Once, a couple of years ago after we had just remodeled the basement (the laundry room was the only area that had not been changed) I had one of the most frightening moments of my life. I had walked over to the refrigerator to get something to drink, and as I bent over to reach for a soda, I got that feeling of being the second body in the room. I stood there for a moment as I grabbed the soda and my eyes scanned the room. When I finally decided to move, I heard a voice speak to me. It wasn't really threatening sounding, but sort of a vicious and bitter young man's voice, and I swear that this sound was as clear as day. He said in a voice that sounded as if he was speaking into my ear: "You're mine."I felt my legs turn to jelly as I let out a sort of muffled cry, not really thinking what I was doing as I dashed for the door. I struggled for a moment with the new door, which has a tendency to get stuck because of the angle of the wall. I ran up the stairs so fast and loud that my grandma looked at me strangely as I entered the living room, soda in hand. She asked me why I had run up the stairs like that, and I told her I had just felt like going up quickly. I didn't go down to the basement for about a week.
Lastly, I have had an experience with a couple of friends of mine. It was winter and we were all staying at my friends (we'll call the house owner Amy) house that is just up the hill from a river that runs through our town. We enjoy walking down through the neighborhood to a small park that sits right on the river and swing on the swings at ungodly hours of the night. Well, we all decided to take a walk down to the park, so we bundled up and started waddling down the hill. Before I continue, I shall say that when we go for walks, they are a usual thing that we never have problems with. We never have to leave because somebody gets scared. But, as we passed the streetlight that marked the halfway point down the hill, I began to feel a bit uneasy. We were all walking in a line, and I could tell by the look in Amy's eyes that she was feeling the same. My other friend (we'll call her Alyssa) had been speaking the most, and Amy's responses had been a little twitchy. The feeling worsened as we approached the corner to turn onto the street, and Amy stopped as she faced the end of the road where the park was. I felt a panic rise in my chest as I was pulled to look over, with the other two saying some frantic things to see if I saw what they saw. And I did. It was pitch black down that road, but there was a white thing in the shape of a wolf or a dog, staring back at us. It stood out like a beacon on the black of the road and the trees, and it cast no shadow. I really remembered that it was large, and I began to feel a bit dizzy with the fear that was rushing up to my head. Quickly, Amy began to say that we should go, now, now, now. And we began to run up the hill in a blind panic. When we reached the midpoint streetlight, we stopped running, and slowly made our way up the hill and back into Amy's house. We all sat around on the couch for a few moments in silence, our cheeks red and hands cold and shaking. We all agreed that we had seen a white dog. And Amy did not recognize the dog from the neighborhood at all, and strays were rare in her area, mainly because of the huge highway she lives on. To say the least, we didn't play with Alyssa's Ouija board much afterwards, even though we had planned to do before.
And so ends the little vexing moments of my life. There's not much there, but... it is most certainly here for me.