Okay, so maybe not haunted by Stephen King’s standards but let me tell you, some real spooky shit went down in that house!
Yes, that’s right, I survived a haunted house. And I am here to tell you all about it!
All was quiet at first; I was the first of eight or so women to move into the house and had free reign for about a month. What a month it was- I wandered about the old house exploring and settling in, creating my domain. I left for work early each morning ensuring that everything was locked and returned home to serene quiet.
One by one the others arrived, a cozy, picturesque scene of blissful collegiate cohabitation! There was something exhilaratingly tumultuous about the week and a half of move-ins. We spent the dwindling days of summer like any college girls would, drinking on the back porch and detailing all the adventures to come. Sitting below fiery sunsets drinking cheap beer, we anticipated the memories we were about to make. It was a year that would surely be one for the books, 8 women living harmoniously in a house together…..
But something was present in that house that was there long before our arrival, something sinister and calculated. It creaked in the walls and floors and waited before slowly but surely exacting its malevolent ways. I can only imagine that the attic was the most haunted part of the house. Ugh, that attic! It reeked of sorrow and sadness and was full of dread and pity. It rumbled and roared and sulked about, casting a monstrous shadow to the house below. The attic weighed heavily on the dwellers below- a burdensome cloak of paranoia. Something poisonous penetrated those walls.
The hauntings began small- at first things went missing. Small things at first- a sweater, a bottle of rum, perhaps a shoe. We all placed it on normal new-house confusion, small displacements with no real intent or harm. But as more and more things went missing, people were pitted for blame.
“Ok who took my charger? I need it for homework”
“Guys stop drinking my wine I bought that for myself”
“Has anybody seen my wallet?”
The more things went missing, the more the house penetrated our sense of security. We found it easier to project blame onto each other, a spidery web of accusations and accused.
The house had an enchanting effect- it lured unwelcome outsiders in and provided shelter for those not belonging. It curated a constant swell of strangers and stragglers, almost as if to feed off of their energies. The house couldn’t stand to be empty I suppose- emptiness meant rot and decay for the house and instead it found a way to devour and to survive.
Next came the moans and wails and banging on the walls. Oh, that moaning! It was constant and moved from room to room. The moans echoed throughout the house, disturbing everyone’s sleep. And the banging on the walls- sometimes rhythmic in nature, sometimes just a few loud bangs. The banging and moaning was at its worst during the nights and escalated even more so on the weekends. I’m sure a lot of us, especially some more than others, lost good sleep because of it.
Then the whispers. Whispers and utterances floated through the house under hushed guises. Paranoia became us, fearful of what was being said at any point. They traveled and tangled themselves into our minds. A whisper here about this, a whisper here about that, whispers tipping from one tongue to the next.
I should have trusted my cat more- animals have this incredible ability to sense danger. No wonder he never wanted to be in the house.
The poltergeist was the worst. Our group chat began as a simple means of organization and order, who was bringing what and where things were being placed. We chatted about normal college women things I suppose- parties, food, boy and girl drama. Nothing too out of the ordinary. But the sickness in the house soon found its way into our phones and infected our group chat. As time crept on the chat became more and more heated, more scornful. It turned and sneered as if resentful of our situation. Phones exploded with notifications as if something malicious snuck its way into our devices and controlled what was being said.
Things got worse. Doors slamming, sinks, chairs, candles and stairs breaking. The moans became screams and the house consumed every one of us. What began as a slow-burning rash of unsettledness quickly festered into an all-out plague. It pushed, prodded, and seared each and every one of us. Hysteria- that is the only fitting word to describe this house. Pure mania rupturing its way through our lives.
The house went cold and dark. Drove us all insane, some more than others.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. How could this have all happened? What could have possibly driven this house to torment 8 innocent women in such a way?! I moved out early, for my own protection against the house. It was destroying me and I had to get out. I can only hope that the others followed suit.
To this day the house still creeps its way in and out of my life- a glimpse here, a shadow there. I have come to terms with this house, having moved past its insidious ways. I only wish that the house find its rest.
Happy Halloween you freaks 😉