Hi! My story begins shortly after we moved into the house
on Holcomb Ave. in Reno, Nevada.
It was just me, my fiance, and our son who was about
sixteen months old. Well, this story is shortly after our
son's second birthday. I was pregnant with our first
daughter. Our son, who never had problems sleeping, and
had slept all night since he was about two months old,
started waking up in the middle of the night screaming.
We just thought he was having a problem with Mommy's
growing tummy, and the baby that was going to take away all
of the attention from him. Anyway, the morning after one
such night, I was laying in bed because I was feeling
really sick, and Timothy was running around the house. We
kept a baby gate up between the hall and the living room so
that when I wasn't feeling well, he couldn't get into
things in the living room and kitchen.
This house had some of the original things in it, like
glass door knobs, old thin glass windows, and things like
that.
Anyway, Timothy was running back and forth between my room
and his room when he tripped and hit his head on the corner
of our water bed. He was sleepy and grumpy after that, so
I decided that it was time to take him to the doctor's
office. Maybe I was a little overprotective, but anyway,
when my fiance came home from work to take him to the
doctor's office, he still wasn't quite ready, so he helped
get his dressed to go. He noticed a small, child-sized
hand print on his chest, as though he'd been slapped, or
pushed very hard. He'd been home alone with just us for
about the three weeks before that, so he hadn't come in
contact with any other children. We had the doctor look at
it, and he measured it and our hands, because he had a
legal obligation to do so, and said that there was no way
that we could have made that mark. Our hands were too big.
Well, we got our answer a couple of months later as to who
did it. I was doing some dishes in the kitchen, and my
fiance was going into the hall on his way to the bathroom.
He heard Timothy talking and playing in his room. Well, he
was still talking when my fiance was done in the bathroom,
so he looked in on him. The door was ajar, so he didn't
have to look in. What he saw chilled him to the bone.
Timothy was sitting on the floor on one side of his room
playing with some cars and trucks, and on the other side of
the room, interacting with Timothy, were more cars and
trucks that were moving by themselves.
We were never able to get any history about the house, so
we don't know anything about the ghost that our son was
playing with. It never harmed him again, and we believe
that it was pushing him down to keep him from getting hurt
by the thing that was in his closet and the basement. I
always got a really bad feeling down there and in his
closet, but never had a problem with the little guy that
we've named Robbie.
We've moved from that house. We'd moved into an apartment
also in Reno, a house in Missouri, and now a house in
Delaware, and Robbie is still with us. He now plays with
our youngest daughter, Jaimee, but has played with all four
of our children. When things happen after the kids are
supposed to be in bed, I just tell Robbie that it's past
his bedtime, and that he needs to go to bed, and the things
stop happening. We've grown rather attached to him, and
would be sad to have him to away.
He also used to play trucks on the only person that we
trusted to baby sit our kids. He'd play with the volume on
the TV, and turn it on and off. I couldn't leave the room
without him turning off the TV after I left the room, even
if I left for only a minute.
Contact me here: babydaffy@aol.com
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