My haunted childhood home

What I am about to share with you are a few paranormal occurrences that happened to me growing up in my childhood home.

I have told very few people about this, but it has been weighing on me for years.

I am 27 years old now, and these things had happened to me from the ages of 5 to 18, 18 being the age when I moved out of my mother’s house and into my first apartment.

Let me start off by saying that I am a very rational person. I work as an internal auditor for a major corporation in my area, and am a mother of an 8 year old boy and two dogs, so my personality is more serious than fanciful, but I have NEVER denied the existence of the paranormal.

I grew up in an older, rougher neighborhood of St. Paul, Minnesota that used to be a swamp or bog, but dried up enough so houses could be developed. Remnants of the swamp are still present to this day. My block was filled with families of middle class people, making happy homes in an otherwise tough area. The houses were older, mine happened to be near 100 years at the time, and it showed.

I was raised by my mother, had one sister, Shannon, who is two years my junior, and one German Sheppard named Jersey.

I am going to need to explain the layout of the house, as it will be important for the events that occurred throughout my childhood.

My house was decent sized, two bedrooms on opposite ends of the house, living room, bathroom, porch and kitchen on the main level, a basement with two storage rooms, a half bathroom with only a shower and a mirror, a laundry room, sitting area and a spare room my mom converted into a guest bedroom. My mom and sister both had rooms on the main level; my sister’s was located near the narrow stairwell to the basement and my mother’s just off the living room. My living space was upstairs in the attic which had my own living room and bedroom that was just a few steps down from a mini balcony. In my room, I had a very large walk in closet.

My first childhood memory is actually my first experience with whoever or whatever was in my old house. I remember sitting at this desk my mom built into the pantry in the kitchen which had become her home office. Back in the 90’s when computers where just starting to make their way into homes, I was excited that once my mom was finished with her projects, she would let me play on it. I would sit there for hours just play typing or being a weird little kid. One day, however, as I was messing around on the computer, I remember feeling very, very cold. It was weird because it was summer time, and though it was dusk, it should never have been that cold. Then, something caught my attention.

From the kitchen, I could see into my little sisters room and the open entrance to the basement stairs. Thinking maybe it was my sister darting into my peripheral, I turned to look at her, only to see me, but not me. At the top entrance of the stairs, I saw a perfect clone of myself in the same princess nightie I was already wearing, except whatever it was had big, black eyes.

It just stared at me for a couple moments, looked towards the stairs, then back at me, before once again turning towards the stairs and walking down them slowly, as if beckoning me to follow. I did not. I might have been a little kid, but I wasn’t stupid. And I was not sleeping or dreaming, as just a few moments after that thing disappeared, my mother called to me to get off the computer and get ready for bed. I remember that occurrence vividly to this day.

Another experience I had in my house that I actually shared with my sister was in our basement. We had always hated going down there. It was oddly cold, even in the summer, and gave us the creeps. One night when I was in middle school, I was babysitting my sister so our mom could have a well deserved dinner night out with her friends. Mom asked me to get a jump start on laundry, and begrudgingly I obliged. The laundry room in the basement was one of my least favorite rooms.

While I was down there putting clothes into the machines, I heard a bunch of toys go off in one of the storage rooms. I remember jumping up and getting pissed off thinking Shannon had tried to scare my, so I ran out of the laundry room to yell at her, only to find no one there. I yelled for her and she came running from the living room upstairs into the basement with me. I asked her if she made all these old toys go off at the same time, and she said, “No, I haven’t. I’ve been up watching TV in the living room.” After she said that, we both heard a low, feral growl coming from behind one of the shelves in the storage room. Needless to say, we booked it out of there and went back upstairs to where our dog, Jersey was sleeping and held onto her and each other until our mom came home. That was the only time I had ever heard that growl, but not the last time all the toys would go off randomly, seemingly on their own.

The next experience I had was when I was a teenager, in the basement bathroom. I was taking a shower downstairs for whatever reason when suddenly, I heard a loud bang and saw a black shadowy figure out of the corner of my eye above me. I immediately jumped out and screamed for my mom. I wrapped myself in my towel and moments after, my mom came down in a panic asking me what was wrong. She had heard the noise too, and thought I had slipped, fell and called for help. She was shocked to see me perfectly fine, but scared. I told her about the black shadow, she sort of scoffed at me until I noticed her turning to leave, satisfied that I was okay and it was just an “old house” noise, until I saw her eyes widen and her jaw drop. I turned to look in her direction, and on the mirror, there was a large crack, with a long, smeared hand print in the condensation. She didn’t even have to ask if it was mine or not, because if it was, my hand surely would have been bleeding or scratched, which it wasn’t.

Now, onto the last and final experience I am willing to share that truly opened me up to the fact that there is more to this world than I could ever imagine.

As I have stated earlier, I had the entire attic to myself, which, as a moody teenager, I loved the idea of my family not being able to sneak up on me or bug me as much. If they really wanted to talk to me or see what I was up to, they needed to make an effort to get up the stairs, walk through the living area and across the balcony, which by that point, I would have heard them coming.

On more than one occasion, I would see a black shadow of a man. It looked like an older person by the way the shadow body would slouch a little, like old people do. He never would do anything but appear in my room at night when it was dark, but I would still see him. Somehow, he was darker than the nighttime lighting. I would see him walk into my room, look at me, walk towards me a little, then disappear like he was never there. I never saw his face, just a shadow. I admit that over time, it did not scare me anymore. Not even my dog would wake up when he would show up, which was almost nightly, so I didn’t think he meant me any harm.

That all changed one night when I was 17 years old. It was about 11:30 PM, maybe midnight, and the rest of my household was long asleep. My loyal and loving dog Jersey, once again, laying at the foot of my bed. I have always been a night owl, so I was still wide awake, writing in my journal with the help of the little lamp on my night stand, when all of a sudden, I felt this weird pressure on my head and shoulders, and a chill that ran throughout my body. Jersey’s head then popped up from her sleep. She began to stare at my walk in closet door. All of a sudden, the doorknob started to jiggle, like someone is trying to turn it, but couldn’t. It was just a closet door, so no one could be in there, even if they tried, and it wasn’t locked.

It was then that the hair on my neck began to stand up, and Jersey started to growl. I quickly turned off my lamp, and threw myself onto the opposite side of the bed where my dog was, and hung onto her neck, while she continued to growl, only now, she was growling at the shadow man who had appeared once again. This was the first time Jersey even reacted to him or it, and she did not keep her eyes off of him.

This time, he didn’t walk towards me, but only looked at my and then walked to my closet, through the door. He walked through the freaking door! I don’t know why that scared me so much, I knew he was a shadow, but I had never seen that happen before. Jersey then jumped up and ran off my bed and began to growl louder, more threateningly at the closet door. And that’s when it happened.

From the other side of the door, I could hear my heavy oak dresser start to rattle, then it was all out shaking. I didn’t dare go in, but I could tell it was shaking from side to side, as if something or someone was aggressively trying to empty it fast. The best sound I can use to describe it is a washing machine shaking while in spin cycle and one side is heavier than the other.

The dresser was violently making that noise so loudly, that it woke my sister and my mother up. The first person I heard coming up the stairs was my sister. She was screaming my name and I could tell she was afraid like I was. All the while, Jersey was barking and growling like I had never heard before. Once I saw Shannon, I jumped out out of my bed and ran to her, sobbing while my dresser just kept shaking violently. She was just as terrified, hearing what was coming from my closet. Only a couple short moments after my sister came into my room, my mom was there. She grabbed us both in her arms and in her authoritative voice, she commanded for my dog to “come”, and then it stopped.

It just… stopped.

As soon it did, the pressure, chill, and hairs on the back of my neck went away, and Jersey calmed down.

Nothing like that ever happened again, which I am glad for.

I don’t know why it only stopped when my mother spoke. I don’t know why it happened to begin with. But it did.

I moved out of that house not long after when I was 18, as I had gotten pregnant with my son. I don’t know if it was one or more “ghosts” or maybe a “demon” or poltergeist that was doing it, but I am glad I no longer live at that house.

My mom ended up selling the house and moving a little over a year after that happened when she married my step dad, but since my grandparent’s still live in that area, I often have drive by on my way to their house. Every time I do, the hair on the back of my neck still stands up, and I feel like whatever it is, is still there, and that it is watching me, waiting for me to come back.

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