The House On Deadman's Curve

In the summer of 1994, my soon-to-be husband, our 5 month old son, and myself moved to an old house in this little town called Cedarville in Southern New Jersey.

Our house stood on a nasty curve often referred to, by the locals, as Dead Man's Curve. No big deal. People come up with names like that all the time for places where a lot of accidents occur. We paid it no mind.

The one thing that did unnerve me about the house at first was that the porch was only a mere two or three feet from the actual road. Even that, did not dampen our spirits. We were just over- joyed about this house, you know, it being our first place and all!! All was well until we got settled in.

Instinctively, I knew then and there that something was not right about this house. I have had that sixth sense before, in other situations, other locations, and I have never been wrong.

As soon as we moved in, we had issues with our son: He refused to be in his room, we never had this problem before, so I placed his crib against the door so it could never be closed. Still, he would scream to the point of risking a hernia and always looked toward the closet.

I refused to go in to the attic or basement, I don't really have an explanation except it sent chills down my spine.

Shortly after our marriage, which was close to Halloween, I was in the living room with my son and sister- in-law. It was broad day light and we saw shadows moving on the wall, all around the room. I called my best friend, GinaBaby to come over and she had an eerie feeling before she even entered the house. She witnessed some strange stuff, too: shadows in the living room, the feeling of being watched, shuffling noises upstairs when nobody was upstairs and doors closing by themselves. We told my husband and he said we were all being silly.

By Christmastime, he changed his mind when we had the X-mas lights that play music in the foyer going up the staircase. Now mind you, I had personally unplugged them every night before going to bed. He awoke one night to the sound of music playing and pulsating lights. He then woke me to tell me that I had forgotten to unplug them. I told him, "I did and you watched me do it, remember we came to bed at the same time?"
He paused and gave me a strange look. He went to the closet and pulled out a baseball bat and proceeded down the stairs to find not a soul. When he came back up, he looked pale, but never said a word. I asked what was wrong and he told me to 'just go back to bed'.

That weekend, our son went to stay at my Grandparents house. On the first night our boy was gone and when we were getting ready to go to bed we heard a baby crying. Knowing our son wasn't home, we just dismissed it... at first. It continued and was getting louder. We got a little concerned so we went outside to the porch to look around, thinking maybe, someone needed help or something. We went out and heard nothing! We would go back in and hear it again.
My husband and I entered and exited the house a few more times but it stayed the same: more baby cries. Then my husband stopped at the bottom of the staircase and listened: the cries were coming from small bedroom upstairs that we use as a spare room!

Needless to say that FREAKED me out and I panicked. I talked him into moving us all downstairs.

After that things really started to happen.

Sometimes things would come up missing for a while then reappear days later. I would find myself blocking the basement door with chairs and forcing other doors to stay open. I hated going upstairs alone to do anything. It always made my heart feel like it was being squeezed and don't get me started on the basement: that felt like there was something closing in on me.

For some odd reason, the only room that I felt safe in was the bathroom!! I hated being in that house alone. It didn't matter if I was home alone or not, "they" didn't care. None of us was ever harmed but we definitely got the bejesus scared out of us!!

Later, I found out that the house had always had new tenants, for no one ever stayed there for more than a few months at a time! We were the first tenants to stay there for more than a year!

The landlord lived right next door and the house had been in his family for years. He never once mentioned anything bad about the history, perhaps he didn't know- or didn't believe?

A friend of the family found out where we were living and told my friend to tell us to move away from that residence ASAP because the house was not right! He had known some people that lived there a while before we moved in. He feared for our safety because they experienced a more violent presence. He had said that it was amazing we were there that long! His friend was only there for a month and moved. She experienced things like objects being thrown around and getting doors slammed in her face. After hearing, that I told my husband, "Uh... We gotta go!!" We moved out by the following week.

Since the house is seated on such a dangerous curve, can it be possible that the spirits from previous accident victims are gravitating to this house? All of us here seem to think so.

Who knows?