I moved around a lot as a kid. We were the kinda family that would have boxes that would always go unopened and undisturbed between moves. My dad was a good guy but had issue with authority, so he usually had issues keeping a stable job for more than a year or so. When the lease was up, we'd move closer to his new job.
Anyways, during one of these moves, my dad found a steal next to his job. It was an old 2 bed 1 bath house with a detached garage, I wanna say it was around 300 a month for rent. (In 2003) Apparently, it was in a rough part of town. The landlord told us "I won't go into the specifics, but I am required to tell us that someone had passed away in the house within the last 5 years." My dad saw a great deal and shrugged it off.
We moved in soon after, and thing started very quickly. There were noises in the house all the time. It was like we had other people living there. It would generally be noises that you'd expect when other people were around. Things like drawers opening and closing, doors swinging around on their own, water turning on in the bathroom, and then back off.
Nothing malicious was happening, so we just lived with it. Another weird quirk about the house was that the front door had a keyhole on both sides. So you could not leave the locked house unless you had the keys.
You can probably guess where this is going, but not a week or so after we moved in, we lost the keys. Boxes still littered the house, and we were still in unpacking hell. So my dad (obviously stressed from the whole situation) started getting loud about the keys. He accused me of stealing them, he was cursing and being a general pain. Then out of nowhere, we hear the keys hit the floor in the living room right in front of the couch right onto the floor. He picks them up, try's to rationalize what just happened, say's f-it and leaves the house for work. Over the next few months, the stupid keys are the center of the activity. My dad would put them in a glass bowl on top of out tube tv every day after work, and somehow they would be moved by the morning. My favorite spot by far was when we found them in a sealed box of pots and pans that we needed to unpack. It had those little handle holes on the side of the box, and its like someone just shoved them into the hole out of spite. We all got a good laugh out of that one.
Right now, you're probably like "ok, whats spinechilling about some noises and some keys moving around?" Well, here you go.
The worst thing that happened fairly frequently was the stomping. Most nights around 2-3am there would be very heavy footsteps pacing in the hallway outside of our bedrooms. I confirmed with my dad when i was older that yes, it kind of freaked him out too. We had been living in this place for about 8 months at this point and i was probably around 8 years old. I heard the stomping one night and i just couldn't take it. I screamed out into the hallway "STOP STOMPING AROUND! I NEED SLEEP TO GOD DAMN IT" 15 seconds of silence was abruptly interrupted by what sounded like a bull running full speed to my room. Then my door had 3 very aggressive slamming knocks on after another. It was so loud my dad woke up and came to check on me. My stomach started to turn, and I suddenly felt like I had to use the toilet. I was frozen in bed when i heard my dad call out to me. "You ok buddy?" From his bedroom. I mustered up the courage to head out to the hallway. As i got up, I could tell something wasn't right, i was shaking like a leaf and my bowels were trying to evaluate while i was walking, i ran as fast as i could to the toilet, but it did not help. There was a trail from about halfway between my bedroom and the toilet. And my poor dad, worried about my safety follow me into the bathroom to figure out what the hell just happened. I explained everything, crying on the toilet, making a mess of myself and the house. I was embarrassed and terrified. After this, my dad told me, "If you ever feel uncomfortable, you can come sleep in my room. Nothing can bug you when I'm around"
The final straw came a week later. My Dad had been dating a girl for over a year and she had been staying with us more and more. One of the nights she stayed over, they had a really minor fight right before bed (I think it was about cleaning/chores). Anyways, they both went to bed grumpy about it. Right around that magic 2-3am mark, his girlfriend got yanked out of bed by one of her ankles and got dragged out of the bedroom and down the hallway. By her account, she woke up after she was on the floor and felt someone pulling on her leg and it took her a while to realize exactly what was happening. She shrieked, and whatever it was, let go. She ran back into the bedroom and turned the lights on, and explained the whole thing to my dad. He sent me off to an aunts house and stayed in the house alone for a few months while looking for another place to go. Figured it would be safer without me there. During the packing and moving out of the house, my dad had some friends swing by to keep him company while he packed. Almost everyone who came by to help mentioned that they saw "a small white dog" walking around right when they entered the house.
Yeah, that place was haunted AF. I still think about it from time to time. Wonder if the people who live there now deal with the same stuff, or if it's all calmed down.
Bonus extra DLC story;
My dad's GF had brought a yoga ball to the house, and as a rambunctious 8yo, I wanted to play with it all the time. She tells me i can play with it, but i have to be careful. So we lightly toes it back and forth down this hallway. And after a minute or two i toss the ball and it freezes mid-air before it makes it to her and comes right back to me. She was mortified. I was too young to realize what happened, and she didn't want to freak out her BF's 8yo son (me) so she quickly just said she didnt want to play with it anymore and we went and did something else.
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