My Childhood Home

I want to tell you about the house I lived in when I was a child.

This is what my mother told me about our first months in the house.

My childhood house is not a house which people would look at as a typical "haunted" house. It is situated in a nice neighbourhood, and is not too old either. But a lot of out of the ordinary incidents have definitely occurred behind these four walls. These are just a few of the things that happened because if I was going to write it all down, it would probably not be submitted because of the length.

When we first moved into the house I was about four years old and an only child. The earlier owner had to sell the house because of her husbands death, and was too old to live in this large house alone. My mother loved it, it was perfect, and was built in a nice neighbourhood. My mom was in her mid twenties when we came here, and she still had her sense of style, so she immediately started to decorate. The house had a certain feel to it, so a lot of stuff she had brought with her did not fit in, so she wanted to put it up in the attic. I mentioned earlier that the house was not very old, couldn't have been more than 30-40 years, but the attic door seemed as if it had not been open for over a hundred.

My mom was up there trying to stash away some of her things, when all of the sudden she heard a faint noise further back in the dusty room like a distant cry, and without thinking more of it she turned around and walked back to see if it maybe was a cat that somehow had got through one of the small broken attic windows (the house needed a lot of fixing up). There was no cat, but instead two large paintings of two crying children. They both looked so sad, but in the same way they intrigued my mother and she felt drawn to them. She took them with her downstairs, and hung them up on the living room wall. Later that same night my father came home from work, and as he entered the living room he said that he felt a creeping chill which started all the way from his toes and up toward his eyes(?). My mum offered to turn the heat up, but the chill was gone just as fast as it came. But the moment he saw the pictures on the wall, he felt the same chill all over again. He asked my mother where she had got the paintings from, and urged her to remove them because they were giving him the creeps. My mother did not understand what he meant but promised to remove them the next day.

That night my mom stayed up late watching Television the way she always used to do after taking care of me and had finished her chores for the day. She was just about to go to bed and were turning all the lights off in the house when she all of the sudden heard the same sob that she had heard earlier in the attic, only louder this time. She tried to determine where the noise came from and it led her to the paintings. She could not see the origin of the sound, but as she stood there looking at the paintings, she saw a tiny tear run down the cheek of the boy on one of the paintings. Paralysed with fear she called out for my dad who already had gone to bed, but came running out when my mom screamed. She told him what had happened, and my father took a closer look at painting, there was no tear, but it was wet as if a tear had run down on it. My mom took the paintings back up to attic and put them exactly where she found them. The next few weeks my parents could hear tiny footsteps as if from a child, and the same faint cry. At first they were terrified and never left me alone in any room, but the incidents only happened at night when we all had gone to bed, and it never did us any harm so after a while they got used to it. A year later my mom was doing the spring cleaning, and decided to throw the paintings out. After that day they never heard crying or footsteps again, but the next time she went up to the attic she saw burn marks at the spot where the paintings used to lay.

I was too young to remember any of this, but I did have my own chilling experiences.

I was about 8 years old at the time, and I was sleeping in my bedroom, when I woke up and saw a young girl, approximately 14-15 years old, long blond hair, really pale in her face, wearing a red cardigan, standing over me, looking intensely at me. At first I thought it was my cousin that had come to visit but I didn't understand why she would be in my room in the middle of the night. I turned around to switch on my night lamp, but when I looked back, she was gone. This was the first time I saw her.

A lot of strange things like this happened frequently and both my dad and I had several encounters with the young girl.

Submitted by Ann-Kathrin, Troms, Norway