The church I grew up attending isn’t outwardly creepy or frightening in the least, in fact it’s actually a really nice looking building both inside and out. There is even a cherry tree just outside the doors that adds an image of innocence to the building in the spring. The sanctuary and fellowship hall were always brightly lit and neither I nor my sisters ever felt particularly uncomfortable in the downstairs sections of the church.
The upstairs section was a completely different story. That’s were the youth meetings and Sundays school lessons were held. It’s also home to the the nursery, church offices and the supply closet. It’s a narrow hallway that I always remember the being incredibly dim, even when the lights were on and whenever any of us kids were up there alone we felt watched. It was also cold all the time which really added to the creep factor.
My family made up the youngest members of this church, other than a very small handful of other kids who were roughly my age there wasn’t a single person under the age of twenty in that church. So whenever any of us complained about feeling watched, inevitably one of the old women of the church would explain to us that it was just God or Jesus watching over us.
None of us ever believed it. God or Jesus watching over us should never feel as creepy as being upstairs alone felt. Frequently if I was walking down the hallway, I would feel a tingle right down my spine that gave me the urge to run and not stop running until I reached the end of the hallway and through the door to the safety of the stairway. Even running didn’t make me feel better because that’s when I would feel the distinct sensation of being chased.
My two sisters also felt this sensation, as did the pastor’s son and the other young church members. They’d also be told that it was God watching over us. My older sister told me the other day that the worst places for her were always in the nursery or the supply closet while I always felt the most creeped out in the hallway. I don’t really have nightmares, but whenever I have spooky dreams they always take place in that upstairs hallway. I don’t have any specific memories of talking to the youth group about how creepy it was to be up there, but I know we all had that feeling because nobody liked being upstairs alone.
A specific incident that happened and freaks me out to this day didn’t happen to me but to my twin sister. We’ve always made the stairway our personal hangout spot, since it was away from the nosy older members of the church but not quite reaching the creepy upstairs hallway. When our church did Wednesday night potluck dinners, we would take our plates and go sit on the stairs instead of at the tables staying close to ground level because being too close to the upstairs was just too creepy. I can’t remember why my twin was hanging out there by herself this particular night, but what she told me happened gives me the chills.
She was sitting by herself at the top of the stairs outside the door when it got really cold and she started to hear a very deep and masculine voice chanting in a different language. When she first told this to me, I thought she might have just heard the pastor speaking Hebrew since his office is only a few doors away and he does have a pretty loud voice, but then she clarified that it was definitely not that. She said that the voice had almost a hint of a growl to it and sounded nothing like the pastor. We both really freaked out after that and we started to actively avoid being upstairs alone as much as possible.
We changed churches a few years ago and even though the church we attend now is way older and definitely has a more spooky appearance, I have never felt honestly creeped out any where in this building- except for the elevator but it isn’t the same kind of creepy feeling. A few months ago I was talking to my mother- joking mostly about the elevator being creepy, when she told me “This isn’t even the church that’s supposedly haunted.”
I took a moment to look at her in confusion before asking her what she meant. My mother then explained to me that- supposedly their was a ghost haunting the upstairs hallway of the church I grew up in. I couldn’t tell you if I was shocked or not since I had always felt as though there was something upstairs with me whenever I was alone. I’d gotten so used to being told that it was just God that to hear my own mother more-or-less confirm my suspicion of something more sinister was a bit surprising.
Sometimes we still visit that church for one reason or another, and even though we aren’t children anymore, my sisters and I still refuse to go upstairs alone. We’ve never actually seen a ghost or spirit up there, but we can still feel it and now we know it’s not our imagination and it’s definitely not just God watching over us.