College Haunting

Everyone in our town knows that the college campus is haunted. It is one of those things that you grow up telling spooky stories about at sleepovers, making all the other girls squeal when you suddenly pull out the jumpscare. It wasn’t anything a lot of people really ever worried about, unless you went to the school.

I started college there back in the fall of 2010 as an art major. That meant I had to spend a lot of time in the humanities building. According to rumor, that was the most haunted building on campus. I have always been sensitive and over the years of doing things at the campus (it was the largest auditorium and what not in the town so a lot of plays and recitals happened there) I had felt many things over the years, but nothing much had really felt dangerous to me. I would get bad feelings around backstage and on the stairs that led down to the basement, but I generally shrugged them off as me just being a paranoid little kid.

After the first month or so, I got involved with a small group of people that enjoyed going ghost hunting on the weekends and they had gotten special permission from one of the art professors to stay in the building late that night. I was invited to go on this little hunt as my first tester trip. They wanted to make sure that I would stay calm.

We get there, go through a little safety spill, and break up into groups. Nothing much happens for the first little while, but then I suggest we head to the dark room on the 2nd floor. Earlier that week, I had an experience in there and thought that maybe we could find something. Two of us out of the group go inside while the other two wait in the hallway. We begin a bit of radio scilence to start the EVP session. During that time, I kept feeling something touching the back of my shirt and gently tugging on the hem. I stay quiet and ignore it, hoping that maybe a voice was caught on the recording.

We started to ask questions and the tugs on the back of my shirt become harder to ignore. I told the person I was investigating with and he began to ask who it was that was tugging on my shirt. I began to feel extremely warm and uncomfortable in there and told him that I really wanted to get out of there. I am quite claustrophobic and two people in a small darkroom was pushing it for me. However, the thought of an unseen entity wanting to mess with me while I was in such an uncomfortbale position made it worse.

We went out into the hall and listened to the recordings. There was nothing there but white noise, our voices, and some whispering that we couldn’t really make out. We chalked that up to the AC units in the building kicking on (it was still hot as hell, even though summer was wrapping up).

The rest of the time spent in the two small groups was rather uneventful. We came back together at about 2 am so that we could all go down into the basement together. I wish I had never gone.

We all took our positions in the prop filled basement (costume and prop storage for the drama department) and turned on a UV light. One of the guys said that he had read somewhere that entities might be attracted to it. A volunteer went and shut off the lights for the basement and we began to wait.

Once the lead said he was ready to turn out the lights, I got this distinct feeling that doing that would lead to a bad time. I told him not to, basically begged him not to, but out went the light.

That is when I felt something cold close around my neck.

I couldn’t breathe. It felt like something was pulling all of the air out of my lungs and I could not stand. One of the guys caught me and that ended the night’s investigations.

I had red marks on my neck that faded after a little while, but the guy that caught me had very tiny scratches near his eyes.

There were no investgations for the rest of the semester.

The following semester, we all decided that we needed to have one more go at the building and see if what had happened was just a fluke. We broke up into our groups again and had a rather uneventful night until a little after midnight.

While I was inside of a piano practice room, with one of the others, the peace of the building was shattered.

We heard a scream, the sounds of running down the stairs, the door to the stairway opening and closing, the door to the outside opening and closing, and then the stairway door opening and closing again. The only problem with the second opening and closing of the stairway door is there were no footsteps to go along with it.

We were all called to the auditorium for a little meeting. Turns out, that the two that ran out of the building had been investigating near the 2nd floor darkroom. While near the darkroom, they began to hear noises from inside the room and gentle knocks on the women’s restroom door. On an EVP, they heard something say MY NAME right before something inside the darkroom fell. That is what sent the others out of the building.

Because of this, I was asked to leave for the safety of the rest of the group. I was really bummed about that of course, but I left. One of my friends in the group said they would come and see me after.

The rest of this story was told to me by this friend. I have no recollection of this and that really freaks me out.

My friend came to my house after the investigation was over and he found me sitting in the middle of my living room floor with papers covered in weird ramblings and drawings spread all around me. He freaked, called a friend of ours that practiced Wicca. She came over to smudge and bless the house, hoping to rid it of whatever was there. He said I was pretty out of it the entire time, but I seemed normal the next day. I am so grateful that he came to see me instead of going straight home. There is no telling what would have happened if he hadn’t.

Now, all these years later, I still sometimes feel something dark in my house. I’m not sure if this entity followed me from the college or was latched onto me before all of that. All I know is that I now sleep with holy water and my father’s rosary beads beside my bed.

Possible Ghost In The Basement

Now, this experience happened to me about 5 to 6 years ago, so some of the details might not be there, anyways, here it goes. I had just recently moved about 6 months ago. I now live in a development fairly close to my old home and it was on a corner of a fairly busy street.

I moved for reasons unrelated to this story. I’m a 15-yo male and this happened to me when I was about 9 or 10.

My brother 8, my cousin 12 and I were all in my small, musty cluttered basement just playing around with the toys because we were bored. And literally out of nowhere we heard a toy fall from the other end of the room.

Now, there was no gust, just the fan blowing on us from this side of the room because is was very musty and humid down there, and from what I can remember, both the windows were closed. Since we were all fairly young, we scare easily and I, personally was and still am a firm believer in the paranormal.

So, I suggested we just go outside and play basketball or something because I was not comfortable at that point. They agreed, and we walked to the up the stairs.

We then heard a box of toys fall off another closed box. Now, the fan was indeed facing the the box of toys, but the box fell towards the fan. My cousin said run and we sprinted up the stairs and made sure to lock the door behind us and that was it. This is the only significant happening I can recall. These kinds of experiences had not followed me to my new home.

And I believe that if there was a spirit, it had no intent of harming us. And one more thing, my old home was rented out to multiple people after a family had lived there for years before then. I really only have one explanation for this, paranormal activity.

The Basement

I am not a stranger to the paranormal. Ever since I was 12, I noticed we were not alone in this world. The story I am sharing is not my first experience, but the scariest so far.

I was 16 at the time. Due to my parents being divorced, I had to go see my father every other weekend. He recently moved to a new rental. This rental has a bit of a story. You see, the previous owner of it just let his animals die. We would always find bones in the yard. Being in the country side gave me very little things to due, and outside was not an option due to the landlords’ business was run on the same lot. Shortly, my right to stay upstairs in the living room was taken away by my step-mother. My room became my sanctuary.

My room was in the basement. As time went on, I started to notice a presence near my room. The presence slowly grew over time, but never bothered me during the day. I would always forget about it as I went to bed, but the presence was stronger when all the lights were off. I slowly became paranoid, so I turned on my favorite rock station to ease my nerves each night. Then the presence became over baring. I made the mistake of looking at my door as I tried to sleep.

Through the crack, a bright, golden orb appeared. I blinked, thinking I was just tired. The orb slowly turned into an eye ball. I made contact with a creature’s eye. The malice that came from that one contact was enough to force me to stay awake all night. The creature just stayed there, watching me. Each time I would move, the eye would follow. I could not turn on the lights, for the switch being right next to that door. Being the fool I was, I forgot my cellphone charger at my mom’s house. I was not able to reach my father. I was frozen in fear. No one would be able to help me.

I was awake for what seemed liked days. Not sleeping well the night before did not help me at all. I started to hallucinate without knowing, the laughter from the hallucination brought me back to reality. I was seeing spiders everywhere, this was a great shock due to my extreme fear of spiders. That is when I knew I had to get out of there. Not having a flashlight, I took a weird disco stick I got at some event. I ran for the door and turned on the lights. The creature was still there, but I had to get upstairs. The fear was getting worse by the second. I swing the door open and run for the stairs, the automatic lights tuned on as I ran up. I fumbled as I opened the door to the upstairs. Dread began to fill up. Once in the upstairs, I slam the door shut, locking it in the process. I looked out the front window to see the sun beginning to rise.

The after shock from the event kept me awake. I sat on the couch, with a small blanket on me. I doubled checked that all the doors were locked. Not that would help with anything, but it helped my mind calm down a little bit. I was out before my father got up, and they were all shocked to see that I was on the couch. I told them something was up with the basement, but they never believed me.  I would never get enough sleep for three months after the incident, but my father got another divorce and lives in a better place.

Recalling this experience is not kind to me, nor my memory. Only event that is still  completely vivid is that golden eye through the small crack of my door. I never felt fear like that before. I honestly have no clue what that thing was, or what it wanted with me. Who knows how long it had its sights on me. I will give my deepest sympathy to who lives there now, but hopefully my old bedroom is just a storage space like most basements should be.

The Girl in the Mirror: A Campfire Story

I was at a camp out with my youth group once, and we sat around a campfire and some of the others told scary stories. I remember one, but I don’t recall it word for word. But I do remember the basic idea.

Went something like this…..

A young boy was given the task to house sit for a couple who were going away on their honey moon. He had nothing better to do in his spare time, as it was in the Summer, and he didn’t have many friends to hang out with, or things to do.

Also, he could really use the extra cash, so he was more than happy to accept this job.

They gave him a list of all the chores that needed to be done each day. He assured them he would look after the place well. They thanked him, and went on their merry way. He made sure all the chores were done that were on the list.

Take out the trash, check. Sweep and vacuum, check.

He went down the list, checking everything after he did them. There was one last thing he had to do…the laundry in the basement. (The couple hadn’t had time to do it all) He sighed and just decided to get it over with.

He never liked basements much. He was fortunate enough to have grown up in a house without one.

He mentally prepared himself, and walked down into the dusty, cold, dim room. He couldn’t find a light, but there was a tiny bit of sunlight coming from the basement window, just enough to see his way around.

He got to work on the laundry, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

After folding the dried clothes and switching the wet ones to the dryer, he carried the now clean and folded laundry with him on his way to the stairs.

Then he noticed something…..a mirror sat on the wall. He stopped for a second to take in its beauty.

It was an antique mirror, with artistic designs in the rusty metal frame. In the reflection, he could make out what appeared to be the silhouette of a little girl with a knife in her hand in the backround. It spooked him at first. Then he realized, it might just be the way the stuff back there is stacked, the shape “coming alive” as a result of his imagination.

He shrugged it off and continued upstairs to complete his task. He would do this every day for a week or so, and each time, he would glance in the mirror, and the silhouette of the girl stood behind him. Each time, however, he noticed it seemed as though each day, it was getting closer…..and closer….and closer. He was kind of unnerved by this, but still just assumed it was a bunch of stuff.

Perhaps it was his perception getting the better of him, his eyes playing tricks in the darkness. He decided to look behind him to check it out, but didn’t see anything at all.

Just the washer and the dryer, and some other items here or there, but nothing to make the shape that he saw in the mirror.

Somewhat creeped out, he sped upstairs and closed the door behind him. After pondering on it for a few minutes, he decided he was just seeing things.

Curse his over active imagination! The last day finally came at last. The homeowners came back home, paying him for his service, and thanking him for a job well done. He decided to ask them about the odd situation with the mirror.

They looked at him, puzzled. They looked at each other, confused. What they said next sent chills down the boys spine. “Um…..we don’t have a mirror in the basement…..”

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.