To begin, I am one who believes in what people would not
consider mainstream. I believe in the supernatural, truly,
because there isn't much else for me to believe. I am young
and I live in a small town about 45 minutes away from
Chicago. My experiences are not large or expansive with
those from the other side, but more subtle and
questionable. These are my experiences.
I shall begin with things that are odd about my house. I've
lived in this house all of my life, and it is nothing more
than a simple ranch house with one floor and a basement,
which has been recently remodeled. I mainly live at the
southern end of the house, where my room and the computer
room is located. As you walk down the hall, my room is to
the left and the computer room to the right at the very
end. Though I am not afraid of the dark or anything, there
are times where I do not want it to be dark. I get the
feelings on and off, usually when I'm moving across the
hall from the bathroom to my room. It feels like something
is following me usually, not just watching. So, I almost
always leave the tableside light on in my room just in case
I get one of those "feelings."
To continue, I will talk about the odd connections between
my room and the computer room. They both have something to
do with my late grandfather that died when I was only two
years old. Originally, he and my grandmother shared my
room, but after his death, my room was switched to that
room while my grandmother slept in my previous, smaller
room. As for the computer room, when the basement was
remodeled a large bookcase was moved up into here. Most of
the books belonged to my grandfather, with only a few being
my mothers. It makes the room smell musty, and whenever my
stepsister (who is a couple of days older than I) stays
over in the room, she has to have me close the blinds for
her because she's too scared to do so herself, and she
can't explain why. Another odd connection between the two
rooms is the fact that the temperature is hardly ever
comfortable for the time of year. It can be too cold or
hot, or too dry or too humid. My room is more frequently
cold than warm, while the computer room is the opposite. I
don't know if it is the location of the rooms or what, so I
can't really say if they have anything to do with whatever
is living here, which I shall explain when I tell you about
the basement. In my room, there is a thermometer by the
window that tells you the temperature outside and inside.
Once in winter, I woke up in the morning to find that I
could see my own breath. It was so incredibly cold, so I
got up and scampered over to check the thermometer. The
windows were closed tight, and the temperature inside was
nearly the same as outside by about 20 degrees. I went into
the hall to see if the heat was on, and I found that it was
warm as I left and walked down the hall to see if the
thermostat was set right. The heat was most definitely on,
and when I returned to my room, it had become significantly
warmer than the minute before. Now, the computer room has
white carpeting, and we know that white carpet is a hassle.
Recently, there have been odd stains on the carpet that are
yellowish in color. They're sort of shaped like deer's
hooves, and my mom swears that they must have been left
there from her coming in with her clogs on. I really can't
agree with her, though I have nothing to really back up
what I think.
Basements are places that many people are very
uncomfortable with, and are often associated with ghost
stories. The only part of the basement that ever really
bothered me was the laundry room. Now, don't get me wrong,
this isn't a tiny little white laundry room that many are
probably used to seeing. It's a room larger than mine is,
that has a refrigerator, another computer, the washer and
dryer, an old sink that 3 people could sit in. Including
all of the heating and cooling systems in the house, along
with a hole that has something to with our well water that
about 2 people could stand in with a decaying and rusty
cover. I always hated going into that room, but I often
must go in there for laundry or something. Once, a couple
of years ago after we had just remodeled the basement (the
laundry room was the only area that had not been changed) I
had one of the most frightening moments of my life. I had
walked over to the refrigerator to get something to drink,
and as I bent over to reach for a soda, I got that feeling
of being the second body in the room. I stood there for a
moment as I grabbed the soda and my eyes scanned the room.
When I finally decided to move, I heard a voice speak to
me. It wasn't really threatening sounding, but sort of a
vicious and bitter young man's voice, and I swear that this
sound was as clear as day. He said in a voice that sounded
as if he was speaking into my ear:
"You're mine."I felt my legs turn to jelly as I let out a
sort of muffled cry, not really thinking what I was doing
as I dashed for the door. I struggled for a moment with the
new door, which has a tendency to get stuck because of the
angle of the wall. I ran up the stairs so fast and loud
that my grandma looked at me strangely as I entered the
living room, soda in hand. She asked me why I had run up
the stairs like that, and I told her I had just felt like
going up quickly. I didn't go down to the basement for
about a week.
Lastly, I have had an experience with a couple of friends
of mine. It was winter and we were all staying at my
friends (we'll call the house owner Amy) house that is just
up the hill from a river that runs through our town. We
enjoy walking down through the neighborhood to a small park
that sits right on the river and swing on the swings at
ungodly hours of the night. Well, we all decided to take a
walk down to the park, so we bundled up and started
waddling down the hill. Before I continue, I shall say that
when we go for walks, they are a usual thing that we never
have problems with. We never have to leave because somebody
gets scared. But, as we passed the streetlight that marked
the halfway point down the hill, I began to feel a bit
uneasy. We were all walking in a line, and I could tell by
the look in Amy's eyes that she was feeling the same. My
other friend (we'll call her Alyssa) had been speaking the
most, and Amy's responses had been a little twitchy. The
feeling worsened as we approached the corner to turn onto
the street, and Amy stopped as she faced the end of the
road where the park was. I felt a panic rise in my chest as
I was pulled to look over, with the other two saying some
frantic things to see if I saw what they saw. And I did. It
was pitch black down that road, but there was a white thing
in the shape of a wolf or a dog, staring back at us. It
stood out like a beacon on the black of the road and the
trees, and it cast no shadow. I really remembered that it
was large, and I began to feel a bit dizzy with the fear
that was rushing up to my head. Quickly, Amy began to say
that we should go, now, now, now. And we began to run up
the hill in a blind panic. When we reached the midpoint
streetlight, we stopped running, and slowly made our way up
the hill and back into Amy's house. We all sat around on
the couch for a few moments in silence, our cheeks red and
hands cold and shaking. We all agreed that we had seen a
white dog. And Amy did not recognize the dog from the
neighborhood at all, and strays were rare in her area,
mainly because of the huge highway she lives on. To say the
least, we didn't play with Alyssa's Ouija board much
afterwards, even though we had planned to do before.
And so ends the little vexing moments of my life. There's
not much there, but... it is most certainly here for me.
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