When I was seven my parents were looking for a new house closer to our orange grove. We saw many homes, but my mother did not care for them. So we kept looking.
They got a call about a house that had just come up on the market. My Mother went and looked. She loved it. It was within walking distance to our grove, and sat on 50 acres. The house was over a hundred years old. It was one of the first real houses built in the town.
I have to tell you that I LOVE old houses. I have a thing for them, the older the better. But not this house.
My brother and I went with my parents the next time they went to look at it. My brother who is three years older than me, loved it, he ran straight in and started snooping. My parents followed him in.
I just stood there. I could not make myself go up the steps onto the porch. My mom called to me, but I could not answer her. The hair on the back of my neck and on my arms was standing up. It was getting hard for me to breathe. I did not know why.
My mom called out to me again to get in the house. Still I stood there motionless. She came out to look for me, saw me and wanted to know why I was not answering her. It took a moment for me to be able to answer her.
I told her that I did not like the house. That it scared me. She told me that I was talking nonsense, that it was just a house, it was old and that is why is scared me. She grabbed my hand and drug me into the house.
As soon as we crossed the threshold, I tried to break away from her to get back outside. I did not feel safe. Breathing inside the house was harder for me than it was outside. I could feel the energy of the house, and I did not like it. Of course I was much older before I realized what I was feeling.
The house was suffocating me. I needed to get out. My mom would not let go of my hand, she drug me further into the house. Out of the corner of my eye by the fireplace, I saw something standing there. I cried out, Mom look at the fireplace! The realtor thought I liked it, so she went on and on about how the mantel was hand carved, and original to the house.
I started yanking hand, trying to get it away from her. She just held on tighter. We walked over into the area of the fireplace, and there standing off to the side of it was a man. I know that the realtor did not see him, she just walked right past him, then rubbed her arms, like she had a chill.
I started whimpering, my mom told me to stop. I looked over towards the man and it appeared that he sneered at me. I started shaking. My mom reached down and told me to behave, and stop over reacting, he was not going to hurt me. Well now I knew that she had seen him as well.
I of course could not calm down, as we were walking through the first floor he was there with us, I could feel him, but not see him anymore. When we got to the kitchen, all the feelings that I was experiencing grew.
I was overcome with terror and sadness. I could not go any further into the kitchen. My mom must have sensed it as well, because she let go of me and told me to go find my brother. She did not have to tell me twice.
I called out for my brother, and he answered me, he was upstairs with our dad. I wanted to get out of that house, but knew that I would get in trouble if I did, so I slowly climbed the stairs. The higher I got, the better I was beginning to feel.
I called out for my brother again, and went towards the sound of his voice. As I went down the hallway, I was beginning to get the feeling of sadness again. I started to cry. My dad heard me and came out to me, wanting to know why I was crying. I told him that I just felt sad, and did not know why. He told me to buck up, there was nothing to be sad about.
My brother came tearing out of the room. He stopped in front of us and asked our dad if we could go outside and explore the yard. Dad hesitated, but let us go. My brother nearly drug me out of that house.
What we did find was an overgrown cemetery. It was very old, you could not see the names on the stones anymore. Some graves only had rocks piled up on them, with no markers. I did not like it there anymore than I did in the house. I left my brother there to explore and walked back closer to the house. I sat on a stone bench looking at the house. I think I was trying to figure out why it was having that effect on me.
My parents came out, wanting to explore the yard. Mom was imagining where the barn was going to go, Dad where he was going to put trees in. All I wanted to do was go home.
While I was sitting there, the owner of the house, a very elderly woman came and sat with me. She started talking to me about horses, that she had had some when she was younger. Well she got me talking.
We talked about my horse for awhile, then she asked me if I liked the house. I told her no, that it scared me. She just kind of chuckled, then told me that the house used to be full of little boys, girls, and happiness. It was not a scary house at all. I just smiled at her. I was scared, and no one was changing my mind.
When I turned to look where my brother was, I saw something move in the window up stairs. I looked up and saw a little girl there, younger than me. I asked the lady who the girl was, and she looked up and said there is no little girl honey.
She patted me on the head and said that I had a wonderful imagination. Gee thanks. As she walked away, I just stared at that window, but there was nothing there anymore.
Not wanting to have to go back in that house, I sat there while my mom went back inside. Dad came over and told me that they were thinking about buying the house. I flipped out. I started screaming NO at him. I told him that the house was scary, I could not live there. He got very upset with me, and told me that I would live where I was told. End of story.
We left not too long after that. When we got home, my mom told me that she wanted to talk to me. We went into my room, and she asked me to tell her why the house was scary. So I told her everything that I had felt. I told her about the little girl, and the man. I told her that I could not live in that house, that I could not even be inside it.
A few days went by with no mention of the house. Then my dad announced at dinner that he had decided to make an offer and buy the house. I just stared at him. My mom told him, that no he was not going to be making an offer on that house. She told him that they would discuss it later when the children had gone to bed.
We did not buy that house, and it was many years before I found out why. My mom decided to go to the local newspaper and ask about the house. She was instead given a large book of old newspapers. She was told what date to look for.
In 1878 there was a large family of 14 living in that house. The eldest child was 20, the youngest was 5. Boys and girls. The eldest girl had been stepping out with someone that her father did not approve of. There was a fight, and the young lady ran away with the young man, common enough. Then my mom continued to look, about three months later on the front page was the word MURDER. My mom looked at the photo and it was of the house we had been looking at.
The article went on to explain that the young lady had come home "soiled" and alone. Her father had gone into a rage. Killing her in the kitchen. His eldest son tried to stop him, dying in the process. Realizing what he had done he went up the stairs, his youngest daughter was in the hallway, and she was found there dead. He went on to murder his entire family, they were all found in the house. The father went into the bedroom and put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
Was the father the man that I had seen? I believe so, was I so afraid in the kitchen because I could feel what he had done? Or the hallway? I believe so.
We did not buy that house. A few months later the house burned down. Faulty wiring was the cause. I hope that poor little girl found some peace.
Thanks for sharing that Celtic. Sounds like you were pretty tuned in.
