The house I lived in when I was growing up was weird, and my family and I had some strange experiences there. One experience is this:
When I was in high school, I had a group of friends staying over one Saturday night. It was very late and we had just finished scaring each other with the creepiest stories we could think of. We finally decided to try to sleep since we had to be up early the next morning. My parents had gone to bed hours before and I could hear them snoring in their room next to mine. I got up to check on my brother and saw that he was very much asleep. I went back to my room, shut the door, and got ready to go to sleep. We were all tired and got pretty quiet as soon as the lights were out. A minute or two later we all heard what sounded like someone dragging a chair across the tile floor in the kitchen back and forth, back and forth. A little info on the house: It was very small and my room, my brother’s room, and parents’ room were all in the back, next to each other. Any movement, door opening, walking, anything, could be heard from my room. It had been silent and I had already checked to see if anybody was up just a few minutes before. I would have definitely heard if anyone opened their door or walked down the hall to the kitchen. My friends and I were freaking out, asking each other if we were all hearing the same thing. It seemed like it lasted forever, but it probably only lasted 20-30 seconds. After the noise stopped, it was dead silent again. No one walking down the hall back to their room, no doors opening or closing. Just silence. We finally calmed down and fell asleep after a while, but I don’t believe anyone slept over again after that. It wasn’t the craziest thing that has happened in that house, but definitely one that stands out to me. I thought I was going to have a heart attack that night. I laugh about it now, but it sure as hell wasn’t funny when it was happening.
One morning, I woke up to the sound of my parents’ bedroom door opening and closing and the sound of feet shuffling down the hall. I looked at the clock and saw it was around 9 AM. I figured my mother had either stayed home from work that day or was going in late. Everyone was usually gone by 7:30. I didn’t give it much thought and promptly fell asleep again. I finally woke up around noon (I had just graduated high school and was taking advantage of my freedom….don’t judge me), and remembered the footsteps from earlier. I got up and looked around the house. Nobody was home. My parents were at work and my brother was at school. I called my dad to ask him if he left late for work and he told me no, that he left around 7-ish that morning. Ok…I called my mother at work to ask if she had left late or overslept or anything. Nope, she left on time that morning to take my brother to school and then headed to work so she could be there by 8. Alrighty. I decided I was not going to stay alone another four hours with a door slamming, foot shuffling ghost and spent the rest of the day by myself at the mall. It still gives me chills to think about it.
About ten years ago, my (now ex) husband and I lived in a lower income, neglected part of metro Greenville while we attended college. The area was high (often violent) crime and many homeless people would squat in the numerous abandoned houses and business properties around us. I was never quite afraid and mostly felt I just needed to be aware of my surroundings. People were relatively friendly and most crime occurred between people who knew each other. Very rarely was a stranger targeted. My ex and I went to see the first Paranormal Activity one particular evening. There are things that “creep” me out, but the topic of demons is something that frightens me to no extent. It was very late when we returned home. My mind was racing, and I was unable to fall asleep. My ex and I sat in bed in the dark and talked about ghosts and demons and other unsettling things that are best not talked about at 3 A.M. We were trying to laugh and make light of the subject, when we heard our back door open and slam shut. Heavy footsteps, made louder due to the hard floor, were heard walking through our kitchen, then soften when they stepped into the living room onto the carpet. I could still feel the vibrations of the footsteps making their way across the living room. It was close to Christmas, and we had our tree set up in the far corner of the living room away from the kitchen. I hadn’t had time to wrap presents yet, so I sat them under the tree, in their plastic bags from the store until I could get around to it. We heard the rustling of the plastic bags, like someone was opening them up and going through them. This all happened in a span of maybe fifteen seconds, but it felt like hours. The first thought that came to mind was I had forgotten to lock the door, and someone had wandered in off the street, which would not be out of the question in that neighborhood. My ex asked me if I heard the noises. When I said yes, he grabbed a large, heavy Maglite flashlight, and headed into the living room. At this point, we had not heard anything else, so expected this “person” to still be standing in the living room. I was huddled in the bed, phone in hand, waiting to call the police if something happened. He walked back in the room a minute or two later, and said there was nothing there. The back door was still locked, and nothing was out of place. If I had been alone, I may have tried to play it off as a dream or a trick of the brain. But we both heard it and it was LOUD. This wasn’t an indistinct noise being blown out of proportion by fear. The house shook when I heard the door closed. The only other ways out of the house would have been through a window, which was blocked by a window air conditioning unit, or the front door, which had to be opened with a key from the inside. I have tried to rationalize this over the years, and I still have no answers.