As a visitor of my blog you’ve probably figured out that I absolutely LOVE Halloween. Here is a little something you don’t know about me – I live in a haunted house, it’s not a castle, or a palace, just a house built in 1950 that has a few visitors. When my husband and I decided to look for our first house in Spring 2007 he said, “I hope we get a house that’s haunted.” My immediate response was, “Watch your mouth!”
When we purchased our home in June 2007, we had two months to move things from our apartment into our new house. This was perfect since we had accumulated a lot of junk over the nine years we had been together. At the time, my husband was an on-air personality for a local radio station and had a schedule where he was done early in the day – this allowed him to make trips from the apartment to the house on a daily basis to make our move a gradual one. On weekends and evenings I was able to do my part moving boxes. It didn’t take long before we both started noticing strange things.
At first it was small things – the basement lights were on…”I swear I turned it off when I left the house.” Little did I know that this was also happening to my husband. It wasn’t until the first night we were going to sleep in the house that something big happened. While on the floor, in our new bedroom, putting together our bed frame (and our three year old asleep in his room) my husband quickly looked up like he had seen something right behind me in the doorway. He had this look on his face and I knew something weird had happened. I said, “What!?” He said, “Nothing.” I wouldn’t drop it, “What was it!? What did you see?” His response to me was, “I swear I just saw our son walk into this room, but it wasn’t him, and it disappeared as soon as I saw it.” Needless to say, I freaked out.
About a week after the first big incident I had forgotten what had happened that night in our bedroom. I climbed into our queen sized bed and covered up. That night it was a little warm in the house, so I stuck my bare foot out the bottom of the blanket. I awoke to the feeling of someone running their finger up the bottom of my bare foot. My eyes shot open immediately and there, at the end of the bed? Nobody. I no longer sleep with my foot outside the blanket like that.
My husband is a writer and wrote a few blogs about this – he does a better job at telling the stories than I ever will. When you have a minute, read about my haunted house and all the strange things that have happened:
Part 1: A Haunting: Our First Home
Part 2: A Haunting: Bedtime Wanderings
Part 4: A Haunting: Researching Our Home
Part 5: A Haunting: The First Evidence
Part 6: A Haunting: The Investigation
Part 7: A Haunting: Conclusion