The Haunting

Whispers in the Dark

So, at this point I've touched on most of the rooms upstairs, but what I don't think you understand, is the hallway wasn't even immune to the antics.

There was always whispering or the sound of footsteps in the hall or on the steps. We had a really big dog while I was growing up, and I think a lot of the times it was brushed off as being her - or the really spazzy kitten we had! Though, neither one of them could talk.

But then there were the times both the cat and dog were in the same room as us, and yet we could clearly hear someone - something - walking around or talking. And I don't mean whispering where you couldn't make out what was being said. I can't even count the times my sister and I were able to hear what I swear was conversation, and actually able to hear actual sentences, or heard our names said when we were the only ones upstairs - or the only ones home.

I can't say whether or not my parents ever had any of these experiences, as they would never say.

There was one constant I remember, and it freaked me out every time it happened.

It was always the same.

There was another strange event that would always happen in whenever I was driven to sleep in my parents' room after one of my night terror instances. Well, I can look back on it now and call it strange, but the truth was, while it was happening, it was almost as bad as whatever initially had me hightailing it out of there.

Most of these nights it took me forever to fall asleep - if I had been able to at all.

I should have felt safe, being squished between my mom and my dad.

But I didn't.

Because the torment continued, just in a different way.

On these nights, and only on these nights when I slept in my parents' room, could I hear what seemed to be sounds from downstairs.

And not just any sounds, they were very specific - and very strange - sounds.

I remember one of the first times I heard it. I was laying there, just about to drift off, and I heard a door open. Again, with the doors, I know. But this wasn't any normal door like a bedroom, or even the front door.

I'm talking about the door to the fridge.

Every time I slept in that room, I would hear what sounded like someone opening the door to the refrigerator, and rummaging around. I could clearly hear the sound of the label being peeled back on the bags of meats and cheeses that my mom would have had stocked from the deli at the local supermarket.

It was obvious someone was going through boxes and tins of food.

All the while, with unintelligible whispering and muttering.

In the beginning, I used to think someone had broken into the house.

My body would stiffen up in fear, as I'd just wait to hear the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs.

But they never came.

Sometimes I would also hear the whirr of a motor, I guess. I'm not really sure, as I never conclusively identified the sound. But it sort of sounded like a vacuum, but it sounded different somehow. 

It always struck me as strange, that my bedroom was right in front of the stairs, and my sister's room was right next to the stairs, but I never heard it from either of our bedrooms.

Only from my parents' room, which was behind the stairs and on the opposite side of the house from the kitchen.

Okay, I get it. That's not the only thing strange about this experience.

The whole thing is... odd.

Due to the recurring incident that would happen whenever I ventured into my parents' room to sleep, I'd sometimes go in to my sister's room and crawl into her bed instead - not that her room was free of any paranormal events, but at least it was quiet and I didn't hear anything coming form downstairs when I slept in there.

When I was a little older, around seven or so, my cousin moved in with us.

And no, it wasn't the teenage boy who was suddenly living in our house, who was raiding the fridge at night, as these events started well before he moved in and continued until the day we moved out.

More than once, I remember stepping over him to get to my sister's room.

Yeah, here was a sixteen or seventeen year old boy, who had to sleep on my sister's floor because his room was downstairs (my old playroom, which had been a big room - had been split into two rooms so he could have a bedroom) and he just felt like something was wrong sometimes and didn't want to be down there alone.

Looking back, I'm not sure what ghosts needed with food from the fridge. Because there were plenty of times my mom would comment about how food seemed to be gone quicker than it should have been. And I definitely don't know why it only happened when I was in my parents' room.

Nowadays, you hear about people who live in the ceilings of houses and sneak out when everyone is gone or is in bed. It would certainly explain the feeling like someone was always watching you.

Then again, it's been decades since I lived in that house, and I still get that same sensation of someone standing behind me, watching what I'm doing from over my shoulder - even as I type this now.

Part of me wonders if that's what had happened here, someone literally living in our walls, but then the other part of me says it went on way too long - about thirteen years - for it to be the case of an actual person being responsible.

Not to mention, there's no way a person could be responsible for some of the events that occurred there.

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Author's Note: If you already read this and happen to look back, I added a bit to clarify it wasn't the cousin who slept downstairs making the commotion in the middle of the night. The noises happened before he moved in, and continued after he moved out.

Also, I added a bit about how Charlie used to hear the sounds of a motor once in a while, almost like a vacuum, but it sounded different than the one her parents had.

If you're new here, thanks so much for continuing reading about Charlie's experiences in her old house. I hope you're enjoying her stories.

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