The house I live in now has built in 1917, but as I grew up, I had always been told 1929, when my grandpa moved to this city. The house was once in a very rural area, and things were always quiet. As a child, one bedroom, the master bedroom, had always been empty. My parents stay in there now, and nothing much happens...quite different from years before.
My brother and I had stayed in there, and so many things happened that now I won't spend the night. I would wake up ice cold, and afraid. The dresser would shake, then the bed, then my brothers bed. The closet door, which leads to the attic, would open, even though the floor is tilted somewhat upward. Other things; soft murmurs, walking sounds, etc. would keep me awake. The worst thing though, is what I thought was the boogey-man. Whoever...WHATever it was, it would sit in the corner, get up, and look at me. It would shoot to my bed-and then I woke up...or did I?
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Later, as I and my brother grew up, we left the room to each's own, and my parents moved into it...and nothing. We all but forgot of it, and then my grandma told me the truth. In 1917, a man built the house for his wife. He later went to war, and when he returned in 1919, he found that he had a daughter, but the girl wasn't his. The wife thought that he would understand, but he didn't. The child was his friends. He became irrational, shot his family and placed the bodies in the attic...all in the master bedroom.