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Great Grandma's House

Sometime in or around the summer of 1993 I moved out of my parent�s house and into my Great Grandmother's old house. The house itself has never felt or seemed that strange to me but all of the things which I am about to tell you definitely changed my opinion about that.

My friend John and I used to play video games at the house quite often. The first day we got together at the house we set an old television up in what used to be the dining room. We had rented a video game or two from a local video store and were playing them when we started hearing some noises outside. We were kind of paranoid about being there because the house is on an old dirt road and everyone around knew my great-grandmother had died the year earlier and no one had bought the house, what they didn't know is that I was staying there while attending college. As I was saying, we heard some noises outside and decided to see if it was a distant neighbor being nosey or what, so we each got a knife (being the brave souls that we were, you must understand this is 'Deliverance' country) and ventured outside.

Once outside we went around opposite sides of the house to check things out. By this time it was fairly dark and we were, again, a bit suspicious of the locals. We had noticed a red truck drive slowly by the house and it had repeated its pass several more times, as if trying to see what we were doing there. So we waited out in the front drive for it to come by again and when it did, we got into John's car and followed it from afar.

We watched him drive until he got to another drive way on the road and turn in and then he got out of his truck and went into the house. Just a concerned local watching out for other local property, satisfied with this mutual conclusion, we decided to drive to the end of the road and turn around and come back to the house. As we neared the end of the road, we spotted a white cross on a tree. The cross was about twelve inches in length and about half that in width.

It was posted on a tree at the entrance to a field. Neither one of us knew what it was there for, but John half jokingly stated how creepy it would be to jump out of the car and take it off the tree. Being the type of person I am, I said ok and before he could attempt to dissuade me, I had gotten out of the car and popped it off the tree. Upon reentry to the car John told me he didn't expect me to actually do it and that he was just joking, but we had a big laugh about it and turned around and started to drive back toward the house.

As we were nearing the house that is across the way from my house, we heard something that drew our attention to the right side of the road, the passenger side, the side on which I was sitting. You have to remember that this is an old gravel road and, as such, we weren't driving very fast at all. Then after the noise something about four feet across and around four and a half or five feet tall or so runs in front of the car. Whatever it was had almost no definition and was predominantly black in color. John almost ran off the road trying to avoid whatever it was and we hurriedly headed to the house.

When we got in the drive, we had to go around and up on the porch to get into the locked front door. As I unlocked it our fear was almost overwhelming because we could hear whatever it was coming up the gravel road. We got into the house without a problem and after a half an hour or so, decided to go back to John's house to sleep. But as we were sitting on the couch talking about things that had happened, a black ceramic cat that had been hanging in the same spot for years fell off of the wall and shattered over my head. We took that as a note to get out of there and proceeded to go to John's house.

On the way to John's house, we passed my Great Uncle's house and I threw the white cross from the tree into his yard, the next day I saw he had ran over it and destroyed it with his lawn mower, within a week's time his house had burned.

We were again playing video games but this time in the newly cleaned out living room. I got up and went into the kitchen for a drink and when I came back I will never forget what I saw.

My Great Grandmother's house was setup as such . . . upon entry from the front porch directly to your right was the aforementioned living room and directly ahead was the hall to the kitchen. Branching off of this hall to the left was another hall with four rooms. To the immediate right was the bathroom and on down also on the right was a bedroom that was locked up and used to store my Great Grandma's things. At the end of the hall was another room that stayed locked most of the time and was also used for storage, and the only room to the left in this hall was my room where I attempted to sleep many nights.

So I was coming back from the kitchen and when I got to the entrance to the living room, I noticed something behind the chair at the entryway. There was a doll standing behind the chair as if it were watching us. It thoroughly creeped me out and I let out a less than masculine scream and stumbled backwards. John proceeded to laugh at me and asked what was up, I couldn't answer him, I pointed behind the chair.

He went over and moved the chair and the doll fell out from behind it, which evoked an "OH ****" from John. He went on to explain and rant about things I had already begun to dwell upon. That there was no way the doll could have been there all night because the chair had been moved in there by us earlier and we had been sitting on the thing. That we would have noticed it earlier . . .

I collected myself a bit and John went to the kitchen and got a knife and knocked the doll over. I went and picked it up and carried it down the hall to a bedroom where it was supposed to be sitting on the center of the bed.

My fear works in two ways, I either get very angry or feel the need to joke about it. So I poked at the doll and made fun and smacked it, how I wish that I hadn't done that.

I proceeded to notice that the doll's only solid parts were its head with moving sleeping eyes, its hands and its feet . . . there was no possible way for this doll to stand up . . .

The next time we experienced the doll moving, we were in the living room again playing video games. We were in the middle of a game and we heard a thud in the hall. We both stopped and looked at one another and stood to go and see what it was. We looked around the corner of the hall and the doll was out of its room again and sitting in the hall, as if it had stumbled on its way into the living room. I again picked the doll up and I opened the door and tossed it onto the bed. We left immediately.

About a week or so later, I went to my Grandma's house and the doll was on her front porch. I asked her about it and she said that she had been trying to move some of the things in storage gradually to her house. So I was pleased to say the least that the doll was out of the house. Momentarily . . .

I went to get my Halloween decorations out of the storage room and the doll was lying on the bed. How it made it from my Grandma's house the mile or so back to my house is still beyond me.

The following June, my wife and I were married and things in the house and around it seemed to worsen from there. At night from the storage room at the end of the hall where the doll used to sit you could hear what sounded like country music coming from the room all night long. The fan fell out of the ceiling onto my head in the kitchen. When we would go to bed at night, there was an eerie silhouette of what appeared to be an elderly woman on our bedroom door. I tried to find an explanation for all of the above but could find none.

The following two experiences were the most terrifying to me, and even thinking about them now years later, they still bother me. I was at home alone (my wife worked midnights at the time) and I was trying to sleep. The music started in the other room and I tried to ignore it, but decided to see if I could find it. I went into the room and just when I opened the door, the music stopped. I went in and looked around for a bit and found nothing. I turned to leave and as I did the music started up and the door shut and I couldn't open it. I struggled with the door and finally got it open, went into the bedroom and grabbed some clothes and spent the night at my wife's workplace.

The next time was even worse. I was sitting on the couch watching TV and my wife was up the road at another house babysitting. I heard what sounded like a basketball being dribbled up the road at the house where she was and I thought that our friends had returned home and she would be coming home soon. I looked and couldn't see their car so I called up there.

My wife answered the phone and said she could hear it too but figured it was somewhere else and told me that they hadn't got home yet. As I talked to her on the phone, the dribbling noise got louder and closer gradually and she could no longer hear it. It came up our driveway and up on our porch. It was so loud at this point that she could hear it over my end of the phone. Then the dribbling was joined by whatever it was moving and banging the chairs on our porch around. I told her I couldn't stay there and stayed on the phone running out the front door with whatever it was right beside me on the porch banging away. I got to the car, terrified, and started it up. I drove down the road to the neighbors where she was and I could still hear it, even as I got out of the car at the neighbor's I could still hear whatever it was beating the Hell out of the chair on our porch back at our house.

All the while, the house directly across the road from ours took on different tenants, none staying more than four months or so. We lived in that house for almost three years and there were more than eight or nine families that moved in and out of there. Some families living there only a month.

The last family to move in before we moved from our home was a nice family. The day that they moved in, their back yard caught fire and we ran a garden hose across the road to help them put it out . . . if only then they had known what was to happen.

They eventually were to be the longest staying and the last occupants of that house. We had already found another place to live and had been staying in our new home a couple of weeks. We were still moving things from one place to another, and making frequent trips to our old home. One night we get a call that our old home is on fire and we had better get out there.

When we get there, it is even more horrible than that . . . it wasn't our old home at all, the house across the road has exploded. Not just caught fire, but literally engulfed and killed everyone inside within minutes, all three children. Their parents weren't home, leaving them in the care of their oldest sibling . . . all gone.

My wife and I knew and spoke to quite often the oldest daughter who had died in the blaze. My younger brother had gone to school with her. She was a very sweet girl . . . We had to finish moving our things from our old home still and I went on what would be my last trip out there for some time. I got to the house and in the driveway was my wife's stuffed unicorn; standing there as if it were being held. It was fairly late at night and this kind of freaked me out, but this was the last of our things in the garage and I had to get them.

I started up the drive in my car stopping at the unicorn and it fell over. I went and picked it up and put it in the car and got the rest of our stuff in boxes and loaded it up. I was sufficiently creeped out, but satisfied that this was it and got in my vehicle to leave. I backed down the driveway and started to put my car in drive when I looked in the rearview mirror and saw what I still believe to this day was the little girl. She was like some kind of bluish tone and glowing in my brake lights; I floored the accelerator and got out of there as fast as I could.

After that, everything was ok for a while but we started having strange things happen in our new home. My wife would be in the bathroom putting on her makeup in the mirror and she would think I walked up behind her and at times, speak to me and I wouldn't be there . . . no one would. You could be sitting on the toilet and hear someone and actually see the floor move where it looked like someone was walking in the bathroom, right next to you, and no one is there.

I have since come to the conclusion that someone must have killed themselves in the bathtub because the weird stuff only happened in the bathroom and the worst experience was what brought me to this conclusion.

I was using the bathroom one night before bed and as I sat there I heard a kind of rubbing noise coming from the tub. I sat still and listened and it got louder and louder then it became a violent banging. I could actually see the tub floor rising with each bang. (This was a fiberglass tub and we had been told that it had been replaced but not told why, again, another reason for the suicide theory.)

I was afraid to move, almost frozen to the spot. Then the noise stopped almost as suddenly as it had started. I finished what I was doing and left the room sitting up the rest of the night, afraid to sleep, our bedroom was right beside the bathroom, sharing a wall and I didn't want to go in there.

We have since moved again to the place we live now. The man and his wife that moved into our original home have had nothing but problems. His wife has now died in the room where I heard the music and since then he has slowly lost everything. His trucking business, his relationship with his son, and seemingly his grip on reality. He now kind of just stands outside, wandering around. The lot across the street where the house burned is still empty, our old home is now for sale . . . he's trying to sell it. As is the lot next door. The house that was there burned as well . . .

A few months ago, the field where the house exploded and killed the children, it caught fire once more and burned for three days. Now it sits empty.