I lived in an old farmhouse that is approx. 149 years old, deep in the "sticks" of Virginia. My family and I moved there at the end of my 4th grade year. From the very beginning I knew there was something wrong with it. I told my mom and dad that I heard "things" moving around in my bedroom while I tried to fall asleep. They simply laughed it off, dismissing it as my active imagination. But my so- called imagination must have been contagious...
We had been living in the house for about 1 year before my oldest sister kept having something yank her covers off of her bed and throw them out into the hall. She believed that it was our middle sister, who was rather mischievous. But we always found her fast asleep in her room.
Nothing really serious happened until my 16th birthday. My friends had left, my mom and sisters had also left to go on a rescue hall with the local rescue squad, and my dad had moved out. I didn't think to much of it to be left home alone, I had done it a million times. But this particular night was different. I had finished cleaning up and was finally getting ready to settle down when I heard the very distinct sound of a bath being drawn. I went upstairs, and the water wasn't running, but I could still hear the sound. I shrugged it off, but the next incident made my blood run cold.
I was watching television in the livingroom when I heard someone (or rather something) cross the parlor (which is directly beside the livingroom) and go up the stairs, taking the stairs on the left to head to the attic. This roused me, since I would've seen whoever had taken those particular stairs. I followed the footsteps until they reached the landing right outside the attic. I stopped, and watched in horror as the attic door (which is made of very heavy wood) swung open all the way, and something I can only describe as a shadow slink into the attic.
I went back downstairs, and saw something small, black, and rather grotesque-looking shimmy down the hall that leads to the library, which is the oldest room in the entire house. Being the girl that I am, I ran after it. It looked like a cross between a rat and a dog, and I swear once it got inside the library it smiled at me. It disappeared, and I very seriously considered leaving the house. But not before I saw the true horror. I saw something else, something bigger and blacker crouched in the corner of the room. I couldn't make out any features, but I knew it was looking at me. I was frozen stiff as it stretched itself into an inky, malicious-looking shadow, and the only thing I could do was scream. And I did, a very loud, proud scream that meant what it said: that I was terrified.
My family and I moved out of that house 1 month later, after "something" attacked my mother while she was sleeping. I did some research on the house and found some very interesting facts.
The house had belonged to a man and his family in the middle 1850's. After returning home from the Civil War due to an injury, the man went insane and brutally slaughtered his wife and 4 children,then turned the gun on himself. That was enough for me. The house is currently unoccupied, and with good reason.
Thank you for reading.