The House at the Bottom of the Hill

Well, here goes...I am a 28 year old female who grew up with 7 siblings in a house my parents rented when I was 5 years old. That was 23 years ago.

It is a wonderful, cozy two story house with six bedrooms (which worked out really well since there were 9 of us living there.Yes some of us doubled up). My very first memory of the house was the first night in our new home. I remember walking into the living room and seeing the staircase that led upstairs thinking "ALRIGHT".It was dark walking up and the closer I got to the top the faster my heart started beating.There are two rooms up there, one to the right, and one to the left. I took two steps towards the room on the right and I got this panicky feeling that I had to hurry as fast as I could to get back downstairs. Well I was 5, and I didn't hesitate a bit. After that I can't recall anything else until I was in my teens. Small things like, heavy perfume odors in different parts of the house at different times, hearing voices talking and no-one being in the room, hearing footsteps and noises with no-one around, seeing shadows, closing windows only to have them open when you walk back by and putting objects down one minute yet when we would reach for them again they would be gone, searching all over the floor and surrounding area "in case we were going crazy" only to stand up and see that it had been there "the whole time". We became so accustomed to it that we started calling our spirit "Casper". We would say things like "O.K. Casper, quit playing around". There's been quite a few incidents happen to me and my family that I'm sure I could write a book, but for now I'll tell you about one of the things that stands out in my mind.

I was 16 at this time and I worked closing hours at a McDonald's so I didn't get home until around midnight. Everyone would be asleep but it took me a little while to wind down so I would read to relax me. I was propped up on the couch and it was so quite and peaceful that I was beginning to feel calm when I heard the most torturous, agonized moan. It is hard to describe the sound because there was so much in that sound. Panic, Fear, Pain, Heartache, Agony, Sadness, all this and more and it was very loud. I stood up (along with the hair on the back of my neck) and waited. At first I thought something was wrong with a member of my family. I heard it again but this time it came from a totally different part of the house. I started going slowly to each room to check on everyone, but they all were sound asleep and didn't seem to hear a thing, and each time I heard the moan, it came from a different direction. O.K. by this time I was really, really scared. I decided the best thing for me was my bed with the covers pulled over my head.

The next morning, I told everyone what I had heard and sure enough they hadn't heard it.

That is one thing of many that happened in our house but the weird thing is "Casper" never seemed like he (or she) was trying to harm us, just mess with our heads and at times play jokes at our expense.

My Mom still lives there to this day and all us kids are in and out all the time. Things have slowed down these past few years, but still, every now and then "Casper" needs a good laugh.