The Haunted House

When I was younger, I lived in a house that we inherited from my step-dad’s mother after she passed. It wasn’t a very big house, but it always felt I was being followed or watched when walking in the hallway, especially in the dark. I was exposed to reality shows similar to Ghost Hunters, etc and assumed it was my mind playing tricks on me.

We had a spare room which was bigger than mine, but we used it as a spare room for storage. I wanted it as my bedroom but my mum would always refuse. Even though the room was full of our stuff, the room was always colder than the rest.

My mum’s goal was to save up some money for a deposit on our own, larger home and sell this one once we move out. Developers wanted the land anyway, so this house would be knocked down which she looked forward to.

In this house, things would go missing, or stuff that was on top of a table would look like it was being picked up and dropped. My brother was a toddler, so we assumed it was him playing around some of those things.

Everyone in it were extremely negative. We constantly argued at each other. We constantly yelled at each other, and our once loving family became quite distant and hateful to one another. When we weren’t home, our relationships seemed to mend until we returned to that house.

One day, we inspect and purchase a house to move to. We started packing stuff in our current home which took many, many months. No matter how hard we tried to leave the house, we ended up staying in this house because something would go wrong. My mum and step-dad would fight requiring police attendance,  causing us to stay in that house longer due to separation, or my brother would hurt himself, needing an operation. I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal as it’s hard to explain, but moving to a new house without your stuff isn’t the easiest thing to do in a situation like that.

Eventually, we fled and only took the most important and valueble things that could fit into the car.

We only returned once after we left, to try retrieve anything else that might be valuable that we missed. But by this point, the house had been broken into and most things of value were taken.

Some years later, my mum told me that someone was murdered in the spare room and that’s why we didn’t use it. She strongly believed that the house was haunted and that it was what was disturbing us, causing us to be that way. And on the day that we fled, she swore that she saw that entity in the hallway… staring at her and telling her: get out.

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