As I said growing up my father told me stories about his house being haunted. He also told me a rather unnerving story of my own house. See my parents divorced when I was only a few years old, this resulted in me and my brother traveling back and forth from my fathers house and my mothers house. The story my dad told me took place when me and my brother were at our mothers one weekend.
My fathers house is in a very small town, as was my mothers but that is irrelevant, and in an even smaller neighbourhood. All the neighbours knew each other and pleasantries were always exchanged. We have a door in our basement that goes to our garage and from there to our backyard, this was a common passageway for me and my older brother to use. My dad told us when we returned that the first night we were away he fell asleep on the couch, this was very common regardless if we were home or not. He said he awoke to the sound of someone coming up the stairs, which are directly behind our couch blocked off by a railing, and he leapt from the couch. Being over 250 pounds he made some noise in doing this, and he ran down the stairs in pursuit of our intruder. Though he never found anyone he said he found the basement door, the one leading to the basement, ajar . I asked why he would tell his 5 year old daughter and 8 year old son this and he replied with a lecture about the importance of always locking the doors.
I have a couple problems with his tale, not to say it isn’t true. First, the only sign someone had been there was my dads shoes were knocked over, and he was very keen on always having his shoes upright so that no spiders could ever crawl in, and the fact the doors were ajar. Second, as I said we lived in a small neighbourhood and we all knew each other and they knew my house had nothing worth stealing besides maybe our television which at the time was rather large and clunky. Third, my brother and I always made sure the doors were closed and locked.
Either someone did break into my home and fled, rather quickly and quietly, or maybe that was one of the first memories of something unusual going on in our home. Unfortunately no one, except our potential intruder, will ever know.
Now I will never know for sure but perhaps what I am experiencing is all brought on by prolonged fear. Every night since my dad told me someone was in our house I would awake very scared and run into my dads room to resume sleeping. Maybe if my dad never told me the many stories of his house being haunted and the fact our house may have been broken into then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have been scared of our home. I have entertained the idea that everything that has happened has been purely out of fear that continued on from my childhood. I also know enough has happened it may not just be my own fear, or imagination, anymore.