I moved into a new house, one that seemed to be the perfect place for me to be. It was my perfect style home and I got to decorate it exactly as I wanted without having to worry about anyone else’s opinions. Everything seemed perfect, maybe a little too perfect though. I got everything unpacked and settled pretty quickly as I was ready to just enjoy my new place, but that first night of being able to just relax got cut short. I started hearing noises from somewhere in the house, it sounded like they were up stairs. I figured it was probably an animal that had gotten in either while I was bringing my belongings in or while the house sat empty before I bought it.
I went upstairs to investigate, not sure what I would find. I went through every room, found nothing, but the noises started getting louder. The only door I hadn’t opened was the one to the attic. I hadn’t been in the attic at all, it wasn’t a selling point to me since I was a single person living in a four bedroom house. I got to the attic door, not sure what I would find when I opened it, but I knew I needed to find the source of the noises. Nothing came out when I opened the door and I could hear the noises somewhere else within the darkness ahead. I flipped the light switch but nothing happened, a dead lightbulb. I made a mental note to change that after I found whatever was making the noise. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and used that to see going forward. There were some boxes and random items left from previous owners, but essentially empty other than that. I looked around but found nothing, even in the and around the boxes, so I headed back down the stairs, the noise had stopped anyway.
Those first few nights of sleeping in my new house were fitful at best. I had so many dreams and nightmares, not knowing what a single one of them meant, but all of them taking place in what was supposed to be my home. I didn’t think much about them during the day as I sat in the room I made my office, writing as much as possible for my new book. That’s what I did for a living, I was an author. I had two books published previously, one that was self-published and died as quickly as I brought it to life, a book I wasn’t particularly proud of anyway. The second book though, was my memoir of my life up until the point of me publishing it, that is the one that made me the money to buy this house.
Though I drowned out the thought of the nightmares, I was still hearing the noises every so often and I still didn’t know what they were. On my writing breaks, if I heard the noises, I would still try to investigate, and through the first week in my house, I cleared out all of the things that were left behind from previous owners so there was nowhere anyone or anything could hide. After a while, I just grew accustomed to the noises and let them go, ignoring them as best as I could. Sometimes, it seemed the noises would grow louder the harder I tried to focus on anything else, but it was clear there was nothing in any open part of the house, so I had an exterminator come to figure out if something was in the wall.
After a fruitless investigation, I was out of ideas of what the noises could be. Normally, the noises only happened during the day, while I was awake, but after the exterminator came, the noises started coming at night, waking me from my sleep. They were getting more frequent. It was getting hard to function on a daily basis with the lack of sleep that was now plaguing my life.
I had anyone and everyone that I could think of come to look at the house to make sure there was nothing physically wrong with it. I could afford to buy the house and make the payments, but until I negotiated the advance for my next book, there was no money to fix any major problems. Inspector after inspector came and found nothing. No problems with the foundation or the “bones” of the house, no water damage, no plumbing or electricity issues. That left one thing, the paranormal, and that was the worst thing it could be.
I tried to avoid my fate, not wanting to fully believe that my new-to-me house was haunted, especially since that hadn’t been a selling point. I had enough experience with the dead, I came to this house for some quiet, a luxury that I rarely ever got. I needed to focus on my writing and get the publishers something so I could afford to fix the cosmetic issues with my house and anything else I wanted to do with it, but whatever was here was determined not to let me have any peace.
One particular night of tossing a turning, I didn’t know what else to do, so I decided to let myself be open, as I was a physical medium, and I headed to the attic. The second I reached the door, I could tell that I was going to be dealing with some strong entities, and I was sure they knew I would be able to see and talk to them, which is why they made the noises, to get my attention. As I made my way up the stairs, I could feel their presence get stronger, and the smell of death emanated from somewhere in the dark reaches of the attic. That smell, it only meant one thing, and I knew I would have to act quickly. I didn’t go all the way up the stairs, I didn’t need to, I knew exactly what I was dealing with and I went to make a phone call.
There were demons in the attic, that was the one thing I was sure about, how to get rid of them though, that was a different story. I had a team come in to figure out what would be the best way to rid the demons from my house. They suggested having a medium come in, or a priest, to rid the demons out, possibly by using the power of God. What they did know is that I didn’t need to hire anyone, as I happened to be both.
The team came back to ensure I had rid the demons from my house the night of the ritual, and they wanted to watch me work. I started by opening myself up in order to see the demons I was dealing with, and making sure I had my bible and my crucifix with me, ready to banish these bastards back to the realm they came from. They felt my presence before I even set foot on the bottom step, knowing what I was about to do. The religious items kept them back, but also made them very angry. I set forth, repeating “by The Father, The Son and The Holy Ghost, I command you to leave.”
They fought, and they fought hard, not wanting to leave the world that they could cause so much chaos in. The final few times of repeating my chant, I could feel the heavenly presence of God in the room with me, helping me banish the demons back to the farthest reaches of Hell, making sure they would never return to my home, or to this world, at all.
That’s when I woke up from the dream, rather the nightmare, and I realized none of it ever actually happened. I spent the whole next day writing about the picture in my head from the night before. It had all felt so real that I could have sworn it had happened for real, but looking around, I realized I was in my apartment and not in the house that would have been just mine.