Thriller Thursday Winner
This one’s a doozie. If you want to hear all the stories from today go to our As Heard On Page Here’s the entire story if you want to read it. I doubt you can do it as creepy as Heather…
I was 25 and I moved into an old Victorian house that was nestled in the Quapaw Quarter. It was built in the 1800s and had all of the original features. I moved in with two roommates who were a couple, and I lived upstairs while they lived downstairs. We had been looking for a rent house all over Little Rock, but the minute we stepped into this house, we had to say yes. The house was extravagantly beautiful and had original stained glass, chandeliers, hardwood floors, and a skylight that would shine down from the second story over the original wooden staircase. Upstairs, there was a walk-in attic across from my bedroom door at the top of the staircase. At first, we were just excited to live in such a beautiful old house, but then things started happening that we couldn’t explain.
When I was unpacking the dishes in the kitchen, I was using a step ladder. The ceilings in the house were 12 feet high! I was standing on the counter, putting stuff into the cabinet when I looked up and saw a child’s handprint on the top side of the shelf. I am a full-grown adult, standing on the counter and I could barely see the top. I wondered how a child’s handprint could get up there, but I kept unpacking and soon forgot about it.
I started hearing footsteps downstairs while I was in my room upstairs and alone in the house. They sounded like lots of little kids running and playing. Sometimes I heard children’s voices and children laughing. Other times I could hear big, stomping footsteps that sounded like they belonged to a large man wearing boots. I was never afraid of the children I heard, but it sent chills down my spine to hear the larger, heavier footsteps. I would hear doors slamming and women’s voices talking in the kitchen beneath my bedroom. Sometimes I heard the voice of a man downstairs and it always sounded angry. I heard cabinets closing and drawers opening, but I knew I was alone in the house. There was a piano in the foyer and I heard it playing in the middle of the night, but it never played songs. It sounded as if a cat was walking across the keys, back and forth, but we didn’t have a cat and everyone else was in bed. We often heard a ball bouncing downstairs and children’s laughter all throughout the night. There were countless times when I would see a small figure running through the kitchen or dining room out of the corner of my eye, but when I whipped my head around to see it, it would be gone.
I began noticing some strange things happening upstairs as well. First of all, I felt like I was being watched every night as I fell asleep. If I fell asleep facing toward the attic, I felt like something was staring at me, inches away from my face. If I turned over and faced the opposite way, I could literally feel it around the back of my head. It made the hair stand up on my arms and neck. There were many nights when I just forced myself to fall asleep, never opening my eyes for fear of what I might see. There were some nights I swear I could hear breathing behind me, but I was alone. I heard footsteps outside my door and I saw shadows walking under the door but I tried my best to ignore it and go to sleep.
I started getting too scared to stay alone, so I had some girl friends stay over a couple of nights, but nobody liked to come over to my new house. I didn’t tell them what was happening at my house because I was afraid they wouldn’t want to come over. Every time someone came over to spend the night, they would complain that they felt like someone was watching them while they slept. One of my friends stayed over to house sit and feed my dogs while I was gone, and I got a phone call asking if anyone else was supposed to be home because she had heard a man talking and walking downstairs. I started feeling afraid to come home at night because I never felt truly alone in my home.
My roommates had begun fighting and arguing all the time. Every time they were together downstairs, they seemed to be fighting. The minute they stepped outside, the anger would vanish. In fact, every time anyone went into the kitchen or bedroom downstairs, a fight would happen. There were times when I would find myself feeling enraged just from stepping into the downstairs bedroom. My roommate got stung by a scorpion on his back while he was sleeping in the downstairs bedroom. We found dead flies inside the bedroom all the time and the ceiling dripped water from time to time even though there was no plumbing leak. Once we found a dead snake in the downstairs bedroom. Everything about that part of the house felt dead.
We had two dogs and they would just sit in the kitchen and growl at the bedroom door, the way they would growl at a stranger or a scary animal. They seemed to be in distress whenever they had to go downstairs, always barking and growling at the kitchen and bedroom doors. I began to feel weary just from living in this house. It had become a chore just to come home from work at the end of the day. The house was beginning to feel like a prison. Some nights I would sit outside on the front porch just to get away from the negative feeling I felt pressing down on me when I was home. Something evil lived in that house.
My roommates decided to move out and paid the rest of their part of the lease, leaving me to live alone in the house. I was terrified to stay there, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I tried to stay in my upstairs bedroom as often as possible and I even bought a mini fridge to keep upstairs with me to avoid going near the kitchen. I started noticing things about my bedroom that I had never noticed before. As large as it was, I never walked straight through the middle of my room. I always avoided a certain spot in my room. Even though it made more sense to walk through the middle to get to the door, I usually took a longer route around the middle. It seemed odd, but I soon forgot about it.
I threw a party at the new house, hoping that having a big fun party with lots of people would make the house seem more cheerful. I noticed that none of the people would sit in the chairs that were placed in the middle of my room. People were literally sitting in the floor instead of sitting in the chairs in the middle of the room. I remember thinking it was weird, but once again, I soon forgot about it.
After hearing more voices and footsteps downstairs (even though I was the only one living there), I decided to ask a friend who is a medium to come over and inspect my house. I didn’t mention what was happening in my house, but I just said that some strange things were happening and I wanted his opinion. He came over one night after I got off work and I opened the door to let him in and he walked in to the foyer, where he stopped.
“I don’t want to be here,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t like it here. It feels so heavy. There is something very bad here. It feeds off of negative energy.” I explained the fighting and he nodded. “You should never be in a bad mood when you come home, for your own safety. Try to stay positive while you’re here.” I asked him to come upstairs to see my bedroom, just to give myself peace of mind. He reluctantly agreed and followed me upstairs. I asked him if there was anything bad in my room, because it was the only place I felt safe in the entire house. He kept staring at the middle of my room, up toward the ceiling.
“You’re safe here, but only because you’ve made it safe here. You’re not alone up here, but you’re not in danger. There are good spirits and there are bad spirits in the world. Your house has both. There are children in this house but they feel safe up here with you, and your room is safe for them. They don’t feel safe downstairs. There’s something evil down there.”
He looked at me and then looked back at the middle of my room.
“Do you see something?” I asked, remembering how that area of my room seemed to be avoided by everyone, including me.
“Yes, but it won’t affect you. I think you’d be happier not knowing.”
I begged him to tell me what he saw and he finally agreed.
“I’ve always been able to see lingering spirits and deaths. I can see the deaths that happened here. This is a very sad house. Your room is safe, but that doesn’t mean sad things didn’t happen here. There’s a woman hanging from the rafters in this room. Right in the middle of the ceiling. Her body is just hanging here, all the time. She isn’t going to harm you. She looks very sad, but she’s not here to hurt you.” He looked at me and said, “Your room is safe, but you aren’t alone. You’ll never be alone in this house.”
He left shortly after and I was terrified! I had to do one thing before I could leave. I took my camera and took photos of the entire room and the ceiling. I drove to Conway to sleep at a friend’s house and took my dogs with me. We looked at the pictures on the camera that night. There were clusters of orbs right in the middle of my room, right in the place where the woman was supposedly hanging. I turned the camera off and tried not to think about it. The next morning, I had to go back to Little Rock to go to work. I got ready in Conway and remembered I had to swing by my house to pick up my lunch bag. I ran inside the empty house and went to the kitchen to get my lunch out of the refrigerator. It never seemed as scary in the morning sunshine, so I wasn’t feeling as scared as I felt the night before. In fact, I felt kind of silly for being afraid of things that I couldn’t even see.
I bent over and reached into the fridge for my lunch, causing my hair to fall from behind my right ear and to hang down by my cheek, obstructing my vision. As I was about to stand up and close the refrigerator door, I felt a hot breath on my neck, millimeters away from my face, like a large person was panting on my neck. I froze. The breath was so close and so hot on my neck. The breathing was so loud that I started shaking with fear. My hair that had fallen from behind my ear was being blown into my face from whatever was breathing on me. I slammed the refrigerator door shut, ran out the front door and never turned to see what was behind me. I moved out the next week and never returned. I don’t know what lives in that house, and I never want to find out.
Bonus Story
Here’s another good one that has a picture with it.
In February it will have been three years since my step dad passed away. In his younger years he used to love to play the drums and was even in a band with his other brothers way back in the day. Growing up around musically talented people the love of playing the drums spread to my brother and then to my nephew Eli. My step dad passed away when Eli was just barely a year old. Now at three and a half years old Eli loves to play the drums and has his own drum set. Recently about 3 months ago my sister in law was taking a casual picture of Eli playing the drums. To her surprise in the background she had captured my step dad sitting watching Eli play the drums.
We will be back at it next week for round two of THRILLER THURSDAY!
-Moose
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