Ever since I was very small, I've always had this, well, ability. I don't know how to explain it but it's like I can see things; bad things. It started with a dead girl in my mother's closet, and over the years began to escalate. I honestly have no idea if I was slowly going crazy or if some unknown force was tormenting me with a terrifying view into a past that I never asked to see. It's important to mention this fact, because otherwise you might think these events I'm about to describe really did happen. In actuality, while they might have, it's possible that they were insane delusions of a young mind and should be taken with utmost uncertainty as to physical being.
Well, this story, if you've read the title, is about a house. Specifically, it's about the things that happened in the house. I was only nine when my family and I moved into this place, but I remember every room as freshly as I remember it's horrors. You could enter from the side of the house through a single door; which was our usual entrance. The entrance led to a kitchen with white tiled floors and dark brown cabinets. Within the kitchen, there was a laundry room off to the side before the counters under the cabinets started up. We'll get back to that laundry room later; which was probably the only good thing of that terrifying place. On the opposite side of the laundry room, there were sliding glass doors that lead to a deck that wrapped around half the house. Nothing ever happened there.
The kitchen eventually gave entry into a dining room with a floor length window and a big brown square table that could seat at least eight people easily. Turning from the dining room, there's no hallway. It's just an immediate walk to one of three places: the front porch, the living room, or the parent's bedroom. The living room was nothing special; just a tv, two rocking chairs, and a sofa next to the hallway with the bedrooms belonging to my sister and I. Somewhere next to the beginning of the hallway, on the opposite side of the sofa, was a foyer or some kind of large entertainment room with a fireplace, toys, and another sofa. This would later become my room before we moved.
Through the hallway, there were two rooms, and at the end a bathroom. In my parents room was also a bathroom, but it was only ever used in emergency. Of all these places, occurences were most frequent in the area surrounding the living room.
Now that the floor plans are out of the way, I want to tell you about the little girl. It's been so long, and I don't know if this is in sequence, but it's what I remember. There was a young girl, with black hair. She wore a long white dress and she looked to be only 11. I can't say I didn't believe in ghosts, but that night, what I saw, it's something I never would've wished anyone to see. I was in my parent's bed, and at the time they liked to sleep with the closet door open because my younger sister would also slip into the bed when she was scared; she was terrified of closet monsters and mom thought keeping the closet door wide open would prove they didn't exist. Well, that night, while I was staring up at the closet, I saw that little girl, hanging upon a nose, dangling from one of the hangers and frowning. Or was she scowling? I don't know. I screamed. I screamed and screamed until my parents woke up. I didn't care they didn't believe me. I never did sleep in that room again.
A year later, I asked mom if our house was haunted. I expected her to say no. I expected wrong. She looked at me, as if I'd asked her something she really didn't want to answer, but she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew I wouldn't stop asking. She shook her head yes. The house was in fact haunted. She went on to tell me about the multitudes of bodies in what used to be a graveyard on our property, how her closet used to be a spot where a lady blamed of being a witch was hung. There were many stories and it took most of the night for her to explain due to the sheer amount of them. By the end, she wasn't happy, or sad, just indifferent; like it really didn't matter to her either way.
I suppose I could've put that event out of my mind as bad luck, and gone on with my life. However, more bad things started happening. I found out my sister was being haunted by something called a 'demon'. I didn't really understand much of what this was, just that it was extremely bad and demons worked for the devil. I think I was around 11 by then and some other minor things had happened since then; like the rocking chairs rocking back and forth on their own or loud footsteps in the hallway, which were scary but ultimately harmless.
From there, things got...weird. Like I said, my sister was getting hunted by something. At least, that's what I was made to understand. It was weird though. I...told her what it looked like. When I looked my sister in her eyes, I could tell her what that vile thing looked like. An old man. Probably a hunter. He was half bald with grey hair and a dirty banana yellow shirt. His teeth...weren't normal. They were huge and sharp and pointed, and if you looked carefully, his eyes were wide but the tops slanted. I've since tried to draw that creature but I end up crumpling the picture or scribbling out it's eyes and throwing it away; not wanting to look at what I saw.
Our kitchen, more specifically, the laundry room in the kitchen was haunted by a pair of boys my mom claimed were twins. I've always thought of them as nice beings because they only ever did playful things like move folder laundry around and one time, I think they actually cleaned my room. I'm not joking. My family and I were gone all day, but when we got back, my toys were picked up, my bed was made, and other miscellaneous items were properly replaced. I think it was probably those two because whatever else was in that house would've just trashed my room. They were a warm presence in a very dark world for a small child. But, there was one thing that did bother me. One of them liked to pinch my arm every now and then. That's usually how I knew they were around except for a vague image in my mind of two brown haired little boys.
Later on, our family went on a vacation to Florida to see my grandparents. Everything was fine until we got home. The doors were unlocked, all the lights were on, cans littered the floor; cans that were from the upper cabinets. Which meant there was no way the dog or cat could've knocked them down. Besides, anything left inside the cabinet was now placed upside down. We called the guy who was supposed to be taking care of the animals, and he said he'd never go near our house again. Ever. After checking, absolutely nothing was stolen eiher; so we doubted a thief had done anything.
After that, things like floating glasses or waking up with scratches on my back became a common occurence. I'll never forget the first time I woke to see dried blood on my nails. I'd clawed into my back like a wild animal while I slept to the point where I would leave deep scratches that wouldn't go away for weeks at a time. Honestly, I think that was just from paranoia. The footsteps in the hallway got heavier and I couldn't sleep without a light; I wouldn't leave the house at night. Doors would open and close; slamming as they did so.
Eventually, we moved. I was happy to see the place in the rearview mirror of my mom's blue car. There's no way I'd ever go back to that place; except maybe to warn the new tennants. So, here it is. I'm leaving the warning here so I don't have to ever see that place again. Please listen to me, if you ever do anything, listen to this warning. There is a house in North Carolina, and it's surrounded by four acres of trees. You can't miss it. There'll be a black horse's carriage with a weather-worn red bow near the mailbox, and a brown gazebo near the house. It's the only one like it on that road...Apple Road. You can't miss that place either, there's a company that deals with baked goods at the very end. I tell you this in such great detail so you know exactly where not to go.
Stay away from it! I implore you to please never go near there. Ever.