Little Girls and Native Americans

I grew up in a haunted house. I know that sounds cliche. Everyone in the history of the internet grew up in a haunted house. But my story is true. It’s not the scariest, and I’m not going to tell you about some unrealistic demonic possession. I’m just going to tell you about my experiences. I’ll start with a little background information.

The house I grew up in was built in 1910. Before the house, there was a cabin that sat on the property. No one seems to know how old it was or who lived there, but the foundation of the fireplace is still standing in the front yard to this day. Before that, it seems Native Americans lived on the land, as we have found many artifacts, such as arrowheads, tomahawks, and bone handled tools, all of which seem to have remnants of paint on them. To give you an idea of how old fashioned the property is, there is still an outhouse and a curing shed for meat on the property. Pretty cool stuff. I digress.

My dad’s family moved into the house in 1967. My aunts lived in the bedrooms upstairs. They have told me countless stories of seeing apparitions out of the corner of their eyes, lights going on and off, and noises. One of my aunts told me once of a disembodied hand reaching for her, but being the jumpy type, she didn’t stay around to investigate. There has been one constant noise throughout the years, which can still be heard today. It comes from the upstairs and it sounds like bouncy ball being dropped and allowed to roll without interference (that thump thump thump thump thump thump thump sound, you know what I’m talking about). I’ve heard it myself on multiple occasions and my dad says he remembers it all throughout his life. My grandma always told a story about how a bad behaved little girl was locked up there way back in the olden days and was only allowed to come down to eat and use the bathroom. The only toy she was given was a bouncy ball and you can still hear her playing with it. My grandma was full of it but I believed it when I was little.

When my sister and I were little we occupied the bedroom at the foot of the stairs. As far back as I can remember we played "little girl upstairs". I’m not sure why but we really believed someone live up there. I strongly remember it not just being a game, we would talk to it and invite it outside with us. I’m not sure what prompted it but my mother got so disturbed by our game that she took us both to have CT scans. When the scans came back normal she but a bolt on the door to the upstairs and we weren’t allowed to play it anymore. We could never have dogs in the house because they would drive themselves crazy trying to get upstairs. We had one dog that ruined the wood floor in front of the door to the upstairs and tear a toenail off trying to digits way through.

I also remember always feeling like I was being watched. It didn’t matter if it was night or day, I remember having the feeling that there was someone in the room with me. Even as I got a little older, I remember several different occasions talking aloud to it, trying to get it to come out. I didn’t think any of this was weird until I went to kindergarten and told all the kids about the girl who lived upstairs in show and tell one day. Needless to say there was a parent teacher conference and I wasn’t allowed to talk about her anymore. (Come to think of it, maybe that’s what prompted the CT scans...)

When I was 10 my parents had a new house built next door to the old one and we moved. My grandparents moved back into the old house and my grandma eventually got very ill there. She died in the very room we used to play in. A few weeks before she died she told my mom that a little girl would sit and keep her company for hours while no one else was home. My mom didn’t tell me this until years later. It was always a touchy subject for her.

In the new house, my mom decorated the living room with a log cabin/native American style motif. Besides being a very questionable choice for obvious reasons, it soon became clear that maybe that wasn’t the best way to go. She displayed the authentic artifacts I previously mentioned alongside store bought knock offs that she thought were cute, and arranged them all inside a curio cabinet. She also secured an arrow and some dream catchers to the wall, and for my birthday, she bought me two small porcelain native American dolls. Within a month we began to come home to the glass in the curio cabinet being left open. Within two months the glass door got cracked while no one was in the house, and within just a few months the arrow began jumping off the wall in plain sight. My indian dolls began falling off of my dresser, and it didn’t matter where I put them or how I positioned them. I would come home every day to them lying on the floor. She always had some excuse as to what caused her decorations to inexplicably move about. I personally think the native American spirits still residing on the land weren’t too keen on her ugly knock off decorations.

As I got older, the activity became more prevalent in my life. I remember being waken in the middle of the night many times to hear whispers, knocks on the wall, and feeling like I was being touched. One night I woke from a dead sleep to see a face lingering just above mine. It was only for an instant, a fraction of a second, but I could make out two very dark eyes and a round face staring down at me. I think I startled it because it was gone before I could register what had happened. From then on I always tried to make some sort of noise or to move before I opened my eyes as not to frighten them again. I would smell smoke, like from a campfire, at random times. Sometimes I thought I could hear drums way off in the distance. The most frequent "haunting" was what my dad called the warrior call. On summer nights, sometimes we would sit outside on the porch after it got dark, and deep in the woods behind the house you could hear what sounded like a coyote, but more like a person trying to imitate it. It had a human vibrato, a lower tone than the real coyotes. It also had no echo, which was weird. You could definitely tell a difference between the animals and the warrior call.

Since I have been an adult I have moved away and haven’t experienced much paranormal activity to speak of. I still go back to that old house, but have only been upstairs once to "ghost hunt." I got a picture that I’ll attach. The picture has caused a lot of controversy amongst my family. I personally see the side view of a young girls ghostly face at a downward angle. You can only see from about the nose up and it appears she has a bow in her hair. I’ll let you decide for yourself. The other one is a window pic that I took standing on the ground looking up into the upstairs window. I’ll leave that one 100% up to your perception.

Submitted by Leslie, IA, USA