I’VE been reading stories on this site for a few years. Mostly, trying to understand my experiences in my own home growing up.
It’s been six years since I stepped foot in that house and the hair on my neck still stands up when I think about what I experienced in that house. My story takes place in New Orleans, LA.
When I was 13 years old, my dad fell in love and married my stepmother. It was almost like an answer to my prayers. Not only was he happy again, but we couldn’t have asked for a better stepmother. She lived in New Orleans and, being closer to my dad’s work, he moved in with her.
About a year after they got married, she wanted to have a child of her own. They found a beautiful old New Orleans style home for our growing family. It was every teenager’s dream! The entire upstairs was basically for me, my sister and my brother. The upstairs had three bedrooms, a bathroom and a living room. We had our own space and loved it. Shortly after moving in it became our nightmare.
We only stayed at my dad’s every other weekend, so it took us a while to realize something wasn’t right with this house. It started off as a very negative feeling whenever we would go upstairs. As soon as we’d reach the top of the staircase, the hair on our necks stood up and we had a feeling of being watched. The feeling was so terrifying it’s almost impossible to describe. We would have friends come stay the weekend on a regular basis and they refused to go upstairs alone. I actually had a friend wet herself at night because she was too afraid to get up and go to the bathroom by herself.
My little sister always slept in my bed because she was too scared to sleep by herself. One night, I had trouble falling asleep. After laying in bed a few hours I could feel my sister moving in the bed. When I turned to look at her, she was sitting straight up staring at the wall. When I said her name she wouldn’t respond. It was like she was in a trance and there was no coming out of it. Although it only lasted a few minutes, it felt like hours. When she laid back down, it was like in slow motion and as soon as her head hit the pillow, I heard banging coming from inside my closet. It sounded as if someone was trying to get out but couldn’t. When I asked, her about it the next day, she didn’t remember anything. I was so terrified from that experience I moved my dresser in front of my closet door. I guess it made me feel better knowing nothing could get out.
Just a few weeks after that incident, my sister was sitting at my vanity doing her makeup. I had two doors in my bedroom. One leading to the living room and one leading to the hall. The door leading to the hall also led to our attic. You could see the attic door from my room. As she was doing her makeup, she was telling me how scared she was to be in the house. She hated being upstairs and told me she thought it was haunted. Being, the older, protective sister, I told her she had nothing to worry about and there is no such thing as ghosts. As soon as I said that, the doorknob on the attic door started shaking and the door flew open. I don’t think we’ve ever ran that fast in our entire lives.
My brother had an experience in my room. He lived with my dad full time and one weekend while we were at our mom’s, he heard my sound machine in my bedroom. He walked in my room to turn it off, but it was unplugged and had no batteries in it. He said he left the house and when he came back later it had turned off.
After all of these scary incidents, we started sleeping downstairs on the couch bed. We never had a scary feeling downstairs but early in the mornings as the sun was rising, we would wake up to what sounded like someone running up and down the upstairs hall. It happened on a regular basis but we could never come up with an explanation for the noise.
A lot happened in this house but these were the most terrifying experiences and I will never forget them. My dad and step mom always denied having a scary experience in that house. I guess they wanted us to feel comfortable and didn’t want us to be more afraid knowing that they were having experiences too.
When they moved, they finally admitted that they thought the house was haunted. They had a few experiences but nothing like we had. The activity seemed to happen upstairs and they rarely went up there. They did tell us after they moved that the previous owners were an older couple and they both died in the house. Nothing traumatic, they were elderly and sick so it was just their time. They did have a special needs child that died at a young age in the house. From what we know, they built the house when they started a family so we were only the second owners.
I hope you enjoyed my story. This is the first time I’ve written it down and it actually helps to get it off my chest.