69 Highland Avenue

I’m sure there are many explanations—some scientific, some describing an obsessive compulsive delusion, others a psychotic break, or perhaps an elaborate prank. Maybe all of these possibilities explain living in a haunted house for a year. Maybe there were really just t three ghosts, and maybe it was all in my head. I left not knowing. My two roommates and I moved in August for our sophomore year. I’d been struggling with getting the correct medications to treat my Bipolar Disorder and I was blissfully unaware that I would be tested by paranormal events. When I began unloading my belongings, both of roommates came over and whispered ’do you feel anything?’ And I was like a chill—a presence maybe. My medication made me a little hot.

Over the next few weeks it became apparent that we were living in a true haunted house. We had pieced together three distinct presences, a woman/mother figure, a young man, and an angry older man. The older man would sling knives and silverware, open and close drawers, slam doors. The woman was the protector. She kept things from getting too out of hand. Helping us not slip, that sort of thing. She was comforting. The young man would unlock doors, and his footsteps led to my room. He walked nightly around ten. I tried three different medication combinations. My psychiatrist didn’t believe in ghosts. She knew I was terrorized, but thought it was an inner demon. I knew it was an outer demon.

I’m neo-pagan, so I am inclined to believe in spirits. I know some people don’t. I used all the folklore I could find to combat spirits. I had several salt circles, an altar, and Holy water just in case. And even with all that, I was still haunted, more than my roommates. The older man scared me. He was so malevolent. I knew he wanted me to leave, and I thought he couldn’t get past the salt. One night, in the wee hours, I was alone in the house, studying on my bed. A dark shadow floated above my salt ring and pressed my head into my pillow. I screamed unable to breathe, clutching and praying and helpless to stop the smothering. I believe the woman stopped him. I could breathe and my head came out of the pillow. I was gasping and crying. I had almost been murdered by an apparition.

I must say, after that, the footsteps seemed tame. But before I left, the young man showed himself to me. He must have known that I was leaving. He walked down the hallway like usual, but this time I could see his tousled hair and smile. He waved to me. What is one’s reaction supposed to be like when a ghost greets you? I smiled, waved back. Threw some more salt.

I never freed them. I’m sure the three ghosts are still there. I’ve asked several times if I had been pranked, but nothing could explain the near death experience or young man. My roommates remain as confused and terrified as me.

Submitted by Kim, MD, USA