I've been reading this subreddit for about a week and have commented here and there. Reading these stories do remind me of a few experiences I had in my childhood home. I will try to re-call them the best that I can. Many apologies ahead of time if anything doesn't quite make sense. Sweeping the cobwebs away is a bit harder than one might imagine. So here we go.
I grew up in Fort Worth Texas. The house I grew up in was built in 1949. It was a 3 bedroom and 2 bath house. I was told by my father's relatives that the house had been in his family for some time. Though I do not know if that is completely true or not. The neighborhood we lived in was nice enough. Down the street my great-grandmother and my great-grandfather from my dad's father's side resided. Down the opposite street lived our cousins. It was nice to be close to family. Especially during the holidays. However that is a bit irrelevant.
What might be relevant though is my parent's religious backgrounds. Being of Mexican decent my mother is Catholic. My father, though portraying to have Christian beliefs, is Wiccan/Pagan. I put both there because honestly I think he may dabble in both. Now I lived in this home with my parents and my brother who is 4 years older than me. Both of my parents worked and my relatives helped take care of us after school. My parents naturally had the master bedroom with the master bathroom. When they decided my brother was old enough he had the room to the right of theirs separated by a hallway. My room was directly parallel to my parent's room separated by the dining room. The kitchen was to the left of the dining room. And the living room (which was rather huge) was between my brother's room and my room.
Now that you have a basic layout of the home I will proceed on. When I was about 4 or 5 I had my own room which had the second bathroom connected to it. My mother being slightly overprotective over me always had the baby monitor turned on in my room. I didn't mind in the slightest as it comforted me knowing my parents were there. The first incident that happened my mother told me about years later when I was old enough to understand. She stated that when I was about 4 or 5 (not long after I had acquired my own room) my mother said after she had put me to bed she would hear me talking to someone. Now she could hear my voice clearly and the other voice was very faint. However when she would go to check in on me I would be sound asleep. There were other instances when I was not in my room and she was in the bedroom in where she would hear faint whispering voices. At first she would think I had left my television or radio on. However upon investigating she would find it would not be so.
Another instance that I do not remember but she says happened was that in the middle of the night I would come crying into my parents room complaining about someone pulling my hair. My mother wrote this off as me getting my hair caught in something as when I was that small I had really long hair that went past my knees. It wasn't until when she would come and wake me up in the mornings she would notice clumps of hair and scratches on my body that she believed me. With the scratches on my body she thought I was scratching myself in my sleep. She then became convinced when she clipped my nails and the scratches continued.
One of the few events I do remember was when I was about 6 years old. I was in bed and falling asleep. I was on the verge of surrendering myself to my dreams when I felt a warm breath upon my face. Thinking it was my dream I paid no mind. It wasn't until I heard a deep growl that my mind swam back to consciousness. It was then I heard what I can only describe as demonic and malevolent voice in my ear that said two words, “Get out.”
I sat up straight in my bed and turned to look. There was nothing there in the darkness. Freaked out and scared out of my wits I ran from my room to my parent's room crying about the demon in my room. That night and for about a week after that I slept in my parent's room or my brother's room. Refusing to sleep in my own room.
About the age of 7 is when things fell apart and my parents divorced. Being really young I didn't really comprehend this and thus really paid no mind. My mother then began to work long hours as any single parent would to provide for her two young children. It was around this age that I had really gotten into Barbie dolls. After school I would do my homework and then immediately play with them. I kept my Barbie dolls in a pink Barbie duffel bag which stayed under my bed once I was done. This was a ritual I repeated every day in fear of having a messy room and being forced to clean it. One day when coming home from school upon entering my room I noticed all of my Barbie dolls strewn everywhere in my room. I was puzzled because I was sure I had put them away the night before. But thinking that maybe I did forget to put them up I shrugged it off. I went about my day as usual and when I was done playing with my Barbie dolls I put them away and went to bed.
The next day upon coming home from school again upon walking into my room not only where my Barbie dolls strewn everywhere once more but all of their clothes had been removed. Genuinely scared I hastily put my Barbie dolls away. I didn't sleep in that room for a week or so. I only went into my room to get clothes or when I had to use the bathroom. Other than that I didn't want anything to do with that room.
A couple of years later when I was about 9 or 10 my mother got us a dog. She was a Cocker Spaniel and her name was Mickey. She was a shelter dog and the sweetest dog you could have. My mother wasn't really a dog person but Mickey did bring a lot of joy to our lives. Now this part is a bit important not only was she a shelter dog but she was also abused. Thus, it was very hard and very rare you heard her bark. Since during the day we weren't home and since we didn't have a doggy door to lead into the house Mickey spent the day outside. We made sure her dog house was always clean and she had plenty of food and water. Since my brother and I got home before our mother we would let the dog in and go about our business.
One day when coming home from school we let the dog in. My brother went to his room to do his homework and I decided to do mine in the living room. Mickey always seemed to be more of my dog as she was always keen on sleeping with me and following me everywhere. I was sitting on the couch and doing my homework. Mickey had started by sleeping next to me but then she woke up. For some reason the wall to our right gained her attention. I didn't pay any mind as she jumped off of the couch and went to sit in front of the wall. Absorbed in my homework I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard her bark. Looking over to her she was just sitting and staring transfixed at the wall. Barking and growling. Confused I put my homework down and got off of the couch. I couldn't immediately see why she would be barking in the first place. Moving over towards her and staring at the spot on the wall I noticed how the temperature had dropped dramatically in that small area. I looked up but our central air and heat vent was on the other side of the living room. Confused I wrapped my arms around my dog and pulled her away. She was still growling and whining but let me.
Fast forward to the year of 1999 when I was 11 my mom filed for bankruptcy since she couldn't keep up with the house as her job had laid her off. And thus we moved down to the town she grew up in Tivoli Texas. From then on I spent the summers with my dad. It was during one summer when I was about 13 or 14 that my dad took me to visit my cousins in our old neighborhood. I was eagerly excited to see how things had changed in the time that I was gone. My excitement only grew when my cousin Shelby told me she was friends with the children that now lived in my old house. Arm in arm we walked the block to my old home. Knocking on the door the children were a bit hesitant about me being a former resident until I pointed out my brother's and I handprints with our name and date in the cement slab my father had laid down in 1994. Convinced they let us in.
The home hadn't changed all that much. My old room had been changed into a laundry room. Our once huge living room was now split into 2 other rooms. Other than that it was still same house even though the carpeting, furniture, and walls had changed color. We went into the children's room (they were two sisters about a year or two apart in age) which was formally my parent's room. We sat down on the bed and they were telling me about when they moved in, what changes were made, and I in return telling them of my memories.
We were so caught up in our conversation that we didn't notice the door had opened and their little brother (he was maybe between 5 to 7) had walked in. It was when he began to sob loudly that we turned our attention to him. He explained how he had been playing in what was my old room when he heard, “A scary voice telling me to get out.”
The sisters were comforting their brother and looked at me a bit uneasy. Fear sprang to life in me. My heart pounding I swallowed hard past the sudden lump in my throat. Talking in a low and steady voice I asked them, “Is this the first time this has happened?”
At first they were hesitant and finally all three of them confirmed they had been having similar experiences that I had when I was living there. All in that room. They said their parents didn't believe them and thought they were making it up. I grabbed my cousin by the arm and began to lead her out of the house. The children followed me. We opened the door and stepped out. I turned to them and said, “I don't care what your parents believe. Call a priest, preacher, father, or whoever you need to and have someone bless the house.”
I then left with my cousin in tow. I haven't been back to that house in about 10 years. In the time that I had grown up there despite my mother's strong religious beliefs she never had the house blessed. Nor can I recall the house being blessed before we lived there. It wasn't until I was about 18 or so my mother told me what happened.
She said one night when my brother and I were staying at our grandparent's house my father, her, and his friends were drinking and having a good time. My father has always been interested in the occult. My mother not so much but since she felt what he was doing wasn't evil or wrong she went along with it. She would even attend events to help understand what she didn't know. Anyway that night in my room (why they picked my room I will never know) they were having a séance (and I was also told playing with an Ouija board) and my father released something into the house. Or opened a doorway. My mother could immediately feel the change in my room. I think whatever they let into this world is still in that room. I don't know what it is or what it wants but you couldn't pay me to go back into that room.Anyway that's my story. Believe what you want or don't. All I know from living in that house is that there are things in this world we cannot explain. And that people are curious creatures that will do things without thinking them through. I hoped you enjoyed the tale.