After my father told me of the television and the ‘hallway whisperer’ I knew without a single doubt in my mind I was not crazy. There was something or someone in my house. The next question I had was how many? I know there has to be something in the basement. The eyes, piano playing, the television turning on, and my ‘imaginary’ friend made that quiet clear. I now know there is something in the hallway. This was proven by my horrible uneasy feeling about the hallway and always feeling watched, the note on my dads television, and the footsteps we both would hear and became aware of after the note. But was there more? Were the free floating spirits that traveled all over the house? That weren’t confined or defined by a certain area within the house? 

I doubt I will ever know the answers. The town I live in is so small that there is no such thing as paranormal investigators or ghost busters. If something was wrong you kept your mouth shut, we dealt with everything ourselves. I am also smart enough not to use a ouija board. Based on numerous episodes on televisions about hauntings brought on by them I know even if I got enough balls and wasn’t too scared to do it, that there was a possibility of making things worse or open my house up for other things to move in. So I really don’t know how else I can find out the answers. To be honest I get scared even writing on here because it means I am acknowledging it. 

But this isn’t the first time I have acknowledged it. The first time was a few months ago and it wasn’t necessarily bad but I wish I hadn’t. See  I was home alone again, as normal, standing in the kitchen. Out of no where loud thunderous foot steps erupted around the house. It sounded like a marching band in the hallway and a never ending trial of people coming up and down the stairs. I was frozen in place. Nothing was entering the kitchen but I didn’t want to be stuck here either. I thought it would end with in 10 seconds like all activity in the house normally did. This was not the case. I watched the clock on the microwave count the minutes. 1 minute: no change. 2 minutes: no change. 3 minutes: did it just get louder? I became aware after a few minutes I was shaking. My vision blurring, knees wobbling. I had never been so petrifyed in my entire life. I almost lost control of my bladder. I had had enough.

“STOP IT!” I tried to scream but nothing came out of my throat. Tears stinging my cheeks, pins and needles forming in my throat, nose becoming stuffy. I was trapped here. I was never going to get out of here. I couldn’t even call for help. I was stuck in this nightmare waiting for it to end or me to just walk through the hall to my room or down the stairs and out. Nothing was favourable. I wetted my lips and cleared my throat. I opened my mouth and managed to say just above a whisper, “Please, stop it, please.” 

Suddenly it all stopped. There was no sign that anything had happened. I collapsed on the kitchen floor and started crying. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to seem weak, I didn’t want them to know they had won but I couldn’t help it. I just sat there, frightened, alone, and exhausted. Out of no where I felt a warm embrace around me. As if a huge blanket had been placed on me. I jumped and looked around. Nothing. Not surprising. I got up a mumbled an extremely quiet thank you and walked down the hall to my room. It was shorter than going down the stairs to the door. Plus I knew my room was safe. I grabbed my purse and coat and climbed out my window. I sat on the roof for a long while trying to calm down. Eventually I jumped down the 7 foot drop and went to a friends a few blocks away. I never wanted to go home again.

The End

30 comments about this story Feed