I’ve been visiting a friend of mine for the past 6 years in Chicago. he moved from White Plains, CT because of what had happened in his old house. He was 18 and living on his own. He had met me in middle school and was one of most special and trusted friends. One night, we had just finished playing a game on his XBox when he said “Did you hear that?” I listened closely and heard a creaking sound upstairs. I told him “It’s just Cleo.” Then, I saw his dog sleeping next to the sofa.
I suggested calling his parents, but he said they wouldn’t believe it. Ditto with the police. We called a friend of mine who lived near his house to come over. An hour later, all 3 of us were listening to the creaking. Cleo must’ve heard it too. She’s a sweet dog mostly, but as soon as the creaking started, she growled and snarled. I was about to say something about it when we heard a pretty loud CRASH! upstairs. We all ran up and saw a picture of his family in West Virginia lying on the ground in a cracked frame next to a broken lamp.
For the next 4 hours, we kept hearing a commotion upstairs and kept finding things broken. At one point, my friend who lived there got fed up and looked up the history of his house on his laptop. It turns out his house had been built in 1869 by a rich man for his wife. After he died in 1884 from strep throat, his widow said that she always had the feeling she was being watched. She also said he would break anything he didn’t like. So, we had an explanation for some things. The lamp had been working improperly and the picture showed a happy man and wife with their son. My guess was he wanted the house to be nice and he hated the thought of leaving his wife behind.
The next day, we got the straw that broke the camel’s back. I had stayed the night after my other friend went home. It was 7 A.M. and I was taking a shower. After I got out of the shower, I rubbed the bathroom mirror and saw the most terrifying thing ever. Now, I’ve seen Bigfoot (maybe), UFOs a couple times, and maybe even a lake monster, but this was worse. It was a woman with black eyes, tangled white hair, a terrifying sneer on her face, and blood all over her torso, which was covered by a gray dress. I asked why she was here. I can read lips very well. She was mouthing “my murderous husband.” I didn’t get it at all. Her husband died, right?
As if on cue, my friend called me down and said he read another article. It was titled Murder/Suicide at White Plains Home. The house in the picture was his house! It turns out, the man had a twin brother who died of strep throat. Instead, the man who built this house murdered his wife, then hung himself. The widow had actually been married to both guys at the same time (that was more common than you think.) When the man she had married first found out, he killed her, then himself; 4 years after his twin brother died. My friend immediately moved out. When he talked to the man who sold it, he told him he had moved out because the ghost kept wailing. He also told my friend “It’s been vacant because of that before.”