In 1993 when I was around 12, my family and I lived in a house in central Missouri that my parents had had built on some land that my bought from a relative. This relative owned a large piece of land that had been in our family since I’m guessing the 40’s and my parents bought five acres from them and built that house in the middle of the woods. I spent a lot of times in those woods and usually everything seemed normal, but looking back something about the place seemed…off. It’s hard to describe. My mother experienced strange things happening and to this day my sister and I believe the land was cursed in some way.
One important aspect of this story is the layout of the house. It was a single story house in an L shape. On one end of the L was the garage and the other was the front door and a large covered wood porch. Between the front door and the garage was a sidewalk and between those points was a sunroom with large windows facing the sidewalk. Now on to it.
One day my parents went to visit some relatives that also had some land out there leaving my sister, cousin, and myself alone at the house. We were all just hanging out when we heard the front door knob furiously jiggling. The door was locked but it was obvious someone or something wanted in. It freaked us out pretty bad and I remembered the garage door was open because my parents weren’t going to be gone long so there was no need to close it. It wasn’t like anyone was going to be around to mess with anything. I ran to the garage to lock the door leading to the garage and as I was heading there I passed the sunroom and saw something go past the windows. I honestly don’t know what it was. It was moving very fast and only looked like a formless black blur. I made it to the door and a maybe a second after I locked it the knob began jiggling like crazy. Terrified, we called my parents and they came back home after whatever was out there had long gone.
All three of us experienced us but of course my parents thought we were imagining things. What still bothers me is that it had been raining all that day. The ground, the sidewalk, everything was soaked. Yet when I was on the covered front porch with my dad, it was bone dry. If somebody had stepped on it they would’ve left wet footprints, but there was nothing. I have no idea what it could’ve been, and all these years later even my sister remembers it all just as clearly as me. I hate to imagine the outcome if I hadn’t reached that garage door in time. It’s been 25 years and I still think about what happened a lot and it still freaks me out.