Image source aishagrace.wordpress.com
In last week’s Monday Listicle, Husbands and Homes, I mentioned that the house we used to live in was haunted. Several people left comments and seemed interested in hearing more about it so below is the story of the house and some of the things I experiences there. I’ve split in into parts only because I felt like it was too long for a single post. Hope you enjoy! I’m just very, very happy we don’t live there anymore.
From a very young age, I’ve felt there was something more when we die.
I sat on the edge of her bed when my mother passed away. I watched her light, her spirit lift away. Watched as her body become nothing more than an empty shell that was no longer “her” but something like an outer suit she wore, now empty and unused.
Later, I would learn the scientific theory that energy cannot be destroyed. And that many believe our spirit, our “light” or whatever word we use to describe the indescribable thing that makes us – us, is in fact – energy.
This made perfect sense to me as I’d witnessed for myself, the act of an energy leaving a body. Not as if a light had been switched off, more of a transition from here to – I don’t know where but I know what I felt, what I saw and what I believe.
I don’t know if this in some way made me more sensitive or accessible to the spirits that were in our old house or if they were and had just been acting out for years, waiting and wanting to be heard or noticed or felt.
The house was the first I’d ever lived in that was mine (ours really, purchased with my then fiance – present husband). I was so excited to finally be out of a tiny apartment and in to this big house, far bigger than we needed but I knew we would not find anything else close to the size in our price range.
Of course, looking back I can see several red flags that should have screamed “This is not the house for you!” but at the time, I was just too burned out on bad apartment experiences and cramped living.
The whole upstairs had an overlying dark feel. The previous owners had painted a huge part of the living room a dark red. The kitchen was covered floor to ceiling in dingy, red and green floral wall paper and two of the upstairs bedrooms had been stencil painted with unicorns, flowers and butterflies for their daughters. The place needed work but I saw at it as an opportunity to finally be able to truly make some place my own and dove right in with repainting.
I’m not sure how long we’d been there, I’d say within the first few months I started to feel something a little weird but I told myself, new places always feel weird at first until you settle in.
One night, asleep in bed while my husband was downstairs, I felt someone close. It was as if I was being watched but also, like there was something physically close to me. At first, I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or not but I was able to make out a figure in front of me, next to the bed.
Very tall and thin, bent half way to the side at the waist, wearing a tribal looking mask.
Image source forums.liverpoolfc.tv
I didn’t feel in danger at first, it was more of the feeling that I was just being “checked out”, viewed, investigated. Of course, fear rose up and I was wide awake, sitting up in bed. Looking around and seeing no one.
I told my husband what I’d seen, or at least what I thought I’d seen. He was pretty interested but not worried and I wasn’t really either at the time since I didn’t feel in danger, just like something was curious about me.
Time went on and I didn’t see this figure again but we started to feel a little different in the house.
No matter how much I painted, the rooms just “felt” dark and dingy. We’d spend all day Saturdays cleaning and scrubbing but the house would still feel dirty, dark and heavy. We never wanted to have anyone over and it later got the point where it felt like a dark cloud of sadness was hovering above.
I didn’t see the tribal masked figure again but started having nightmares when I would be in a complete panic, trying to open my mouth and call out to my husband or cry for help and no matter how hard I tried, no sound would come out. It was as if my voice was being stiffeled somehow. I would eventually force myself awake and would often make noise just to make sure I actually still could. It was horrible.
Before my now toddler was born, I used one of the bedrooms upstairs for my very first home office. I painted two of the walls a warm, calming mocha brown and the other two, a complimentary cream. Far too small to be a master bedroom, for some reason, this was the bedroom with a tiny, attached bathroom with full shower.
My desk sat against the far wall and to my right was the bathroom. From the beginning, I did not like that bathroom but couldn’t explain why. I tried to never use it except for absolute emergencies and always kept that door closed when I was working in the room. It didn’t seem to bother anyone but me so I tried to tell myself I was just being weird and picky and should be happy we had not one but two bathrooms upstairs but still…something just didn’t feel right.
To try to get myself to stop being so afraid, I started leaving the bathroom door open when I worked in that room. Big mistake. I’d be at my computer and start to feel something. It was like an uncomfortable, nervous tingling, my stomach would get tight and the feeling would slowly get worse and worse. (In time, this started happening every time I would see something or have some kind of experience with the spirits in the house.)
I’d try not to look but out of the corner of my eye, I’d see a a shimmering. It was like a slow moving, golden glow with different points reaching out.
As much as I didn’t want to look, I’d finally turn and stare in to the empty bathroom, no light, no shimmering thing. I’d turn back to the computer to start working again and within minutes, I’d feel this strange feeling again and out of the corner of my eye, the glow.
I’d end up just being scared or freaked out and leaving the room for a while, only to return with the bathroom door closed the entire time.