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The original was posted on /r/haunted by /u/QueasyFail8406 on 2024-07-06 15:36:16+00:00.
Hey! So I typed alllllll this out to reply to a post about “Paranormal experiences you’ll never forget”, but Reddit is being dumb af and won’t let me reply, and I was literally shaking typing this so I’m not gonna let it go to waste lmao. Sorry for the length.
I’m the second oldest of five children and from the ages of nine to thirteen years old, I lived in a very active haunted home. People are always so dismissive when I describe living there, so I’ve stopped telling the story, but I’m making an exception for this.
I grew up in south Florida and the house really wasn’t that old in the grand scheme of things tbh. I think it was built in the mid 1970’s? We got all of the classic stuff like disembodied voices, footsteps, knocks, shadows there and then gone in a second, lights flicking on and off (the actual switch, not just a flickering light). But there were some truly terrifying moments as well.
The first week we lived there, I had the same dream of a young Hispanic woman killing herself, every. single. night. And it was always different. The first time she hanged herself. The next night she tied something to her foot and drowned in the pool. Then she slit her wrists, drank and took pills, etc. It was every night that first week, but I would dream about her sporadically for the rest of my time there.
There was this constant unnerving feeling of being watched by something you couldn’t see but could sense was there. My bedroom was the most active unfortunately :,) I experienced several instances of being touched, pinched, and hearing my name called/whispered while staying in there.
I’ve always enjoyed writing and had a nice big desk in my room that I loved. One day (prob a year after moving in), I asked my mom to pick me up a new journal when she went to the store. As soon as I got it, I set it on my desk (closed and clasped, without a pen), ready to write after going to the bathroom. After returning, every single page of my new notebook had been scribbled on and some had been torn out and crumpled on my floor. This freaked me out obviously because I had only been gone maybe two minutes, the journal was closed with the little clasp locked, and all of my pens were put away. When I told my mom, she blamed my siblings assuming I had lied about the amount of time I was gone. It just wasn’t possible with how thick the journal was for my twin toddler siblings to have scribbled (it looked more like aggressive scratches with a pen) on every single page within the two minutes it took me to go pee, let alone the strength it would’ve taken to rip out the pages from my new hardcover journal. Later that week, my little sister and I saw a t shirt lift up OUT of my laundry hamper, fly across my room, and eventually fall to the floor after running into my tv. Terrifying. The fact that I still slept in there after seeing that blows my mind, but I was a child and neither parent believed me sooo lmao.
On a different occasion, I was just grabbing something out of my room and going to the living room because I fucking hated being in there. My bedroom had two slatted closet double doors that you had to pass by to leave. On this day, they were open and as I grabbed what I needed and turned to walk out the door, I saw a small figure of a boy sitting on my closet floor. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and was rocking back and forth. He looked about three or four years old and had dark brown hair, with obvious tears streaking down his cheeks. The strangest part was that he had FIRE TRUCKS FOR FEET. To this day, I still try to rationalize this and have nothing lmao. The best I can come up with is that maybe they were slippers? But still idfk. Anyway, his lips were blue and his skin was so gray and just… obviously dead. I booked it tf out of there and didn’t go back in alone for a few days.
The final straw with my bedroom was when I had to stay home alone for a week from school with strep throat and tonsillitis. Both of my parents were at work and all of my siblings were in school when it happened. I was sitting up in my bed with my legs under the covers watching something like Cheaters or Maury or some other trashy day time show a child my age should not have been watching lmfao, but my point is that I was wide awake when this all occurred. I heard footsteps walk down the hall toward my bedroom and stop right in front of my closed door. From this moment forward, I was kind of frozen. Idk how else to describe it. Like fight, flight, or freeze. I was like piss-my-pants terrified, but couldn’t move a muscle. I’m getting goosebumps just typing this tbf. My door creaked open and I could feel the presence of someone or something ominous enter. By ominous I guess I just mean it like filled me with dread. The audible footsteps (my bedroom had CARPET floors btw so I shouldn’t have been hearing any footsteps at all) continued and whatever this was approached my bed. I felt it sit down at my feet (on top of the covers) and literally SAW the blankets and mattress lower with the indentation of a body. That’s when I snapped out of whatever tf was going on with me, threw my blanket off, and hauled ass out of my room. From that day forward, I only went into my room to grab necessities and slept every night on the couch in the living room. It’s sad because I truly loved my bedroom. It was the first room I had that I didn’t have to share with a sibling and I painted it myself. Unrelated, but I painted little green stars on the wall behind my bed after that song “Pale Green Stars” from Everclear because my name is Amanda too and my parents also fought all the time and I was a lil edge lord and really identified with the lyrics lmfao. But my point is that I LOVED my bedroom, had made it my own, and didn’t want to leave it, but I just never felt safe in there again. I turn thirty in a couple months and I still have bizarre nightmares about that room.
Of course the activity wasn’t exclusive to just my bedroom and I experienced/saw many things after that, where I slept in the living room and all over the house honestly. It got so bad that I started sleeping immediately after getting home from school (when everyone else was awake) and staying up at night with all the lights on to remain vigilant. Monstrous looking things would peer in through the living room windows at night or try to call to me down the hallway. I did my best to ignore it, but that did fuck all lmao. Anyway, over the course of our time there, my parents grew to hate each other, my dad slid further into alcoholism, all of our mental states got significantly worse, my parents divorced, the house went into foreclosure and ended up sitting vacant for close to five years.
The Halloween just after turning fourteen (my mom, siblings, and I were renting a different house in a different city at this point, but our old house wasn’t foreclosed on yet), my older sister and her friends invited me to go back with them and do a seance. I agreed, so stupid I know. We packed a cooler full of alcohol and brought candles, bread, and wine for the offering. We did research beforehand and wanted to be “respectful”. Obviously now I know the respectful thing would’ve been to have just left it tf alone, but my sister’s friends didn’t believe us about the haunting and we wanted to show them. The house hadn’t changed much other than there being no electricity and everything being closed/locked up. Most of our belongings were still there. We only took the bare minimum when we moved. Anyway, we set everything up, held hands, repeated the words, and that’s when it began. All the candle flames started to rise at the same time like something out of a cheesy horror movie istg. It started as a gentle tapping on the sliding glass doors behind us that eventually grew louder and more violent. It turned to knocks and then banging that came from all different directions with no identifiable source. We started to hear whispers and then full blown conversations, but I couldn’t make out the words. Then something that sounded like an argument between a man and a woman coming from none other than my fucking bedroom. It all came to a climax when we heard something being thrown and glass shattering. We all jumped up at the same time, releasing hands, and then the candles blew out on their own. Freaked, we grabbed our flashlights and tried to figure out what broke. When we explored my room, that’s when I saw it. A framed childhood photo of me had been thrown OFF THE WALL and onto the floor across my room by my closet doors and the glass on it had shattered. That’s when we left.
To this day, my mom denies that anything happened in that house. Although she had been grabbed in her sleep several times and witnessed the fear in literally all of her children living there 🙄 My little brothers and older sister don’t like to talk about it, but I was just recounting stories with my little sister on the phone yesterday, so this is all very fresh in my mind. One of things that was there (whatever was really dark), followed us to the next house we rented. I can go on and on. I srsly have so many experiences if anyone’s curious 🤷🏻♀️ Anyway, thanks for reading this if you stuck it out lmao. Most people I tell this to just roll their eyes or imply I’m a liar and that just might be the worst part of this all for me :,) thanks for listening♥️
