This is my first time telling this to anyone except for my therapist. She actually suggested I share what I’m about to tell you as part of my therapy. It’s a pretty long story, but I have to get it out. More people need to know. I can’t carry this alone anymore.
My name is Oscar. This happened 8 years ago when I was 17, which means I’m 25 as I’m writing this now. Well, almost anyway. A little bit of background regarding my family and the place this all happened. I have.. had.. two parents and a younger sister. She was just 11 years old at the time. Her name is Lucy. My father was a rather successful writer, which also meant that he traveled around the country quite a lot - he found it aided his writing to be in the actual city/town/state one of his novels took place in. And seeing as my mom always worked from home, she decided it would be better for us as a family to join him in his travels wherever he may go, instead of waiting at home for him for months at a time.
Basically, we moved a lot. A fucking lot. Anyone who grew up in a similar situation would understand how much it sucks. You can’t really make friends at school or build solid relationships with anyone because in a little while you’ll be in a whole different state again and that person would be out of your life again, just like that. No need to say, school sucked. More for me than the kids who actually lived in whatever town or city in whatever state I found myself in during my school years. It sucks to be the new kid. It sucks even more to be the new kid for multiple times every goddamn year. I’m just glad my little sister wasn’t the same age as me. Kids are assholes but at least they were a bit kinder to her in the schools she went to. Puberty hasn’t begun rotting their little brains with hormones causing them to treat their fellow students like rabbid dogs quite yet. Unfortunately, I wasn’t so lucky. I won’t go into the details of my years being bullied (that bit of baggage is locked up and waiting to be spilled at another therapy session) but I believe it’s safe to say, it caused me to become quite depressed and introverted. I turned to the arts - books, poetry, films (particularly horror), music (particularly metal), video games, etc.
Anyway, it was during my junior year of high school when my dad’s job forced us to move to New Orleans, Louisiana. My dad was, of course, super excited about this seeing as one of his favorite authors, William Faulkner, used to live there; his former home now turned into a well known book store: Faulkner House Books. One of my dad’s dreams was writing a novel in the very same city and seeing it displayed in the windows of that legendary bookstore.
I hated that we had to move again. I had just met this beautiful girl named Angela at my high school when we were still living in Portland. We were really hitting it off. She was also kind of an introvert like me, but she made me open up a bit more. She was the first person I’d ever met who was able to do that. We shared many of the same interests and, honestly, I was starting to fall for her.. hard. This meant that I was obviously devastated when I got home from school that Friday afternoon - with a smile on my face, not a care in the world. It was Friday for God’s sake. Who wouldn’t be happy coming home to the start of the weekend with a gorgeous girl on your mind. I had just put my backpack down in my room when my mom came in. I could see on her face that what she was about to say was not going to be pleasant for me to hear. I already knew what she was going to say as well. She knew that too. She always had this slight empathetic smile on her face every time she told me. “Your dad got a job in New Orleans. We need to start packing this weekend, dear.”
It felt like someone punched me in the throat. I didn’t respond to her. New Orleans? Really? Fucking really? What the fuck am I gonna do in New Orleans?! 2500 miles away. Christ. How am I gonna tell Angela? Things just got good between us. I was finally able to start building a good relationship with someone. Now it’s fucked again. Fuck my life.
I decided that it would not stop me from staying in contact with her. It fucking sucked telling her the news and I could tell she didn’t take it very well. But I promised her we would never lose contact. In fact, she’s in the next room right now as I’m writing this. But more on that later.
So off we went. New Orleans. Everyone was super excited (especially my dad), but I was devastated. I hated the city before we even got there. But, honestly, if it wasn’t for what happened to me there, my opinion of the city would’ve changed. New Orleans is beautiful. Filled with so much culture, colour, history, music, amazing food, etc. We, of course, didn’t move into the city itself. No. My dad got us an old, creepy-ass house on the outskirts of the city. You know what I’m talking about. Swampy, stinky, moldy. Too many bugs. When I protested he simply said that it was cheaper to afford than a place in the city and has much more character which might inspire him to write. It was a double story house built in the 1800s. Meaning, it was almost entirely built from wood. Old wood. Meaning, you could hear where each person is in the house purely by listening to the creaky floorboards. Let me give you an idea of the layout of the house:
When you walk up to it, you’re greeted with a wrap-around porch. I’ve actually always liked that design on a house, but this one was so old, I wouldn’t dare lean on the 100 year old railing. When you enter through the front door, you step into the foyer where the main staircase sits directly infront of you, leading up to the 2nd story. Directly to the left is the living room, which is connected to the kitchen and the dining area a bit further back on the left side. Directly to the right is another door that leads to another rather large room, which my dad turned into his office area and lined it with some of his favorite books. A bit farther down on the right side of the stairs, was the 1st floor bathroom. And finally on the other end of the house directly across from the front door (behind the stairs) was the back door, leading to an overgrown and rather derelict backyard with a small dilapidated wooden shed, seemingly equally as old as the house.
When you walk up the stairs you step onto a balcony on the inside that runs along the back wall of the house as well as the right and left side, forming it into a sort of U shape. This balcony leads into the three upstairs bedrooms as well as the upstairs bathroom. The bathroom was in the middle as you got up the stairs, my parents’ bedroom was to the right, my sister’s bedroom was on the front left looking over the front yard, and mine on the back left, looking over the gross backyard.
When we walked into the house for the first time, I almost gagged at the smell. It smelled like mold and dust, but worst of all, it smelled like something had died in there quite some time ago. I figured it was probably some swamp critter that got stuck somewhere and couldn’t get out. I saw my mom wince at the smell as well. “Okay. Oscar, Lucy, go ahead and pick your rooms. Open some windows while you’re at it. We just need some fresh air in here,” she said with a forced smile. Fresh air? I don’t think that exists around here.
My sister and I picked out our rooms (I actually wanted the room she picked, but she’s the youngest so, yeah), opened some windows, which didn’t really do anything to help the smell, and then helped our parents bring the last of our stuff inside. After everything was inside and unpacked, we settled in for our first night in our new house. Seeing as we arrived on a Thursday, I was only going to start school the next Monday. So at least I didn’t have that to worry about for a few days. The first night was uneventful, though it did feel a bit eery being in that old house at night time. Especially looking out over the backyard from my window. It felt like something was staring back at me from beyond the dim light provided by our outdated backyard porch light.
The next few days were uneventful as well. We spent them sorting out some of the finer details around the house. Pretty boring stuff.
Then came Monday. The day I’ve been dreading for a while. But I knew what to expect. I was all too familiar with the many eyes staring at me, like I was some sort of new and exotic animal at the zoo. I sucked it up and kept to myself as much as possible. I just tried to blend in and become my invisible, introverted self. My only escape was talking to Angela via text every chance I could get. She was genuinely interested in making sure I was coping. I assured her I was fine and that I just wished she was there with me. She turned out to be a very good distraction during my time there.
I got back into my usual routine pretty quickly. Soon the school week was over again. I woke up Saturday morning and went down to the kitchen - the noisy wooden stairs letting my mom and sister know that I’m approaching. My mom greeted me with a smile.
“Good morning, Oscar, honey. Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, it was okay. I haven’t really been getting good rest since we got here. I guess I haven’t gotten used to sleeping in this old house yet,” I said, sitting down at the kitchen table. Mom was finishing up some breakfast for my sister and me. My dad was probably in his new office. He rarely joined us for breakfast.
“Oh, just give it another few days, dear. I’m sure you’ll settle in properly soon enough.”
I just nodded as I ate my breakfast.
“Your dad and I decided to go into the city for a bit today. We want to get to know the place a little. Do you want to join us? Your sister is coming too.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. I still didn’t like the place. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to go back. I had zero interest in walking around a city that I knew we were leaving again all too soon. It felt pointless. I was sick of it.
“No, I think I’ll sit this one out. You guys go ahead. I want to work on some school stuff (lie). I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Alright then. Just go say hi to your dad before we leave. Lucy, finish up and go get ready. We want to get going soon.”
I got up and knocked on the door to my dad’s office. “Come in,” he shouted from inside. I stepped inside and saw that he was busy. Not busy writing, but inspecting the walls around his office. “Morning, dad.”
No reply.
“Morning, dad!”
He snapped out of it.
“Oh, uhm, good morning, son. Sleep well?” He didn’t even look at me. Just kept looking at the walls with an inquisitive expression on his face.
“Looking for something, dad?”
“Yeah, I thought I heard something last night. Like a scratching sound and it sounded like it came from this room. I don’t know. I just don’t want another critter getting stuck somewhere and stinking up the place again.”
We never found the origin of the first rancid stench. But it went away for the most part in a few days.
“I hear you guys are going exploring today?”
He finally turned to look at me. “You’re not joining us?”
“No,” I said, “I think I’ll rather stay home and work on some school stuff.”
He shrugged. “Okay, son. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. Will you be alright?”
I nodded.
“Alright then, just call us if you need anything.”
“Will do, dad.”
With that, I turned around and went to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Soon my parents and my sister were on their way. “Lock the door behind us, dear,” my mom said as they stepped outside. The moment they left and closed the front door, something immediately felt off. Standing alone in that house for the first time felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Like I’m way, way too close to danger. I went back up the creaky stairs and with every step I took, it felt like eyes were boring into me. Like I was being watched from every angle. It was incredibly unsettling; goosebumps spread over my entire body. I took a breath and decided to just chalk it up to not being used to the house yet. “You’re imagining things,” I told myself.
I went to my room, turned on my PlayStation and put my headphones on in an attempt to shut off the world around me for a few hours. This plan was successful for a couple hours. But then, I heard it. Through the sound of my headphones. The unmistakable sound of the floorboards creaking. From the foyer. Like weight was pushing down on them. Okay, maybe my parents came home earlier? I got up and took a look down the stairs to see if they’re back.
No one.
Maybe it’s just the noise of the house warming up in the sun.
I went back to my room and continued my gaming session. About 30 minutes later, I heard it again. Only, this time, it didn’t sound like it was coming from the foyer. It sounded like it was coming from the bottom of the stairs. I took my headphones off and just sat still to listen if I could hear it again. Almost immediately. Another stair was creaking. And then another. I tried to hear if I could make out the sounds of my parents’ voices. Nothing. Just the stairs. It kept getting closer. Climbing the stairs slowly, one by one. And with each step it climbed, it became louder, harder. More urgent. I didn’t know what to do. I knew it couldn’t be my parents. They wouldn’t be back until mid afternoon. Who could it be? An intruder? Was someone watching the house to see when we left so they could break in? They weren’t being very stealthy because by now the footsteps turned into stomping. Like they were slamming their heels into the wooden floorboards. I could feel it through my bed.
The footsteps came all the way up the stairs, stopped, and took a step towards my room. My door was closed (out of habit) so I couldn’t see if there was someone. The footsteps slowed down but came all the way to my door and stopped. I held my breath. My eyes fixed on my doorknob. I looked down to the gap between my door and the floor. The unmistakable shadow of two feet was visible at the bottom. My doorknob started to rattle slightly. I felt my heart beating in my throat. It started rattling more and more and more. Becoming more violent by the second. I started hyperventilating. Sweat was starting to form on my forehead.
“This is it,” I thought. “This is how I die. By the hands of an intruder, all alone in a massive old house.” I closed my eyes. I couldn’t take it anymore. The rattling doorknob was now accompanied by a deafening banging on the door. I put my hands over my ears. I was about to start screaming when suddenly it went completely quiet. So quiet, I could hear my heart beating through my laboured breaths. I opened my eyes. Nothing. My door was still closed. No stranger in my room. No gun to my head. For some reason this made me very angry. Was this guy just fucking with me? Did he want to scare me before taking all our shit and/or murdering me? “Fuck this,” I thought. I got up, grabbed my biggest pocket knife and went to my door. I swung it open quickly, ready to do some damage. I took one step out the door and froze. There’s nobody there. Confused, I ran down the stairs, thinking maybe he ran out when he heard me get up. All the windows and doors were locked. From the inside.
I stood still for probably five minutes, not knowing what to do.
I snapped out of it and went to the kitchen. I got a glass of water, sat down with my head in my hands.
What the actual fuck just happened? I know I didn’t imagine that. I didn’t just hear it, I felt it. If it wasn’t a person, then what could it have been? A ghost? I almost laughed. I don’t believe in that shit. My parents raised us to be sceptic. I was still sitting in deep thought when I heard another sound. This time it wasn’t floorboards creaking or footsteps. It was much, much worse.
What I heard could only be described as someone trying to breathe, but struggling, because they’re gargling. On something thick.
I could hear the distinct sound of someone taking a deep breath in, with a screeching sound like they’re desperate for air, followed by a laboured, bubbling sound as they exhaled.
It came from somewhere behind me.
I got up from my chair, almost involuntarily. I turned and walked, slowly through the dining room, through the living room and into the foyer - the noise getting louder the closer I got.
I turned my head to see if I could hear where it came from. It dawned on me that it came from directly infront of me - inside my dad’s office. I took a step closer to the closed door. I put my ear against the door. What I heard next almost brought tears to my eyes due to sheer fear. Through the laboured, gargling breaths, I could hear what sounded like a whimper. Like a woman crying in pain. I don’t know how long I stood there listening. I almost went inside, when it changed. The crying started turning into… laughter. I could feel my eyes starting to water. It just got worse. The almost rhythmic laughter started turning into a cackle. It got louder and louder until I could even hear the gargling noise anymore. This time, I didn’t fucking dare open the door. I don’t know what would’ve been worse. Opening the door and seeing some witch cackling at me or seeing nothing at all. Both would’ve been equally terrifying. So instead, I turned and ran.
I ran up the stairs, straight to my room. I locked my door and sat on my bed with my knees to my chest. I didn’t put my headphones back on. I didn’t do anything for the rest of the day. I just sat on my bed as quietly as possible. Listening. I didn’t hear anything again for the rest of the time until my parents came home. I unlocked the door for them and they hurried inside. It started raining a little while before they got home. I asked them how their day went. We chatted for a little while in the living room. My mom asked me what I did today. I just told her that I did some school work and then played some games until they came home. I didn’t tell them anything about what really happened. God, I don’t even know if it really happened.
The rest of the night was uneventful. We all went to bed quite early - my parents tired from walking around all day and I was exhausted from being scared shitless.
The next few days were fine. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I went to school, played some games, read a little, talked to Angela. God, I missed her. I wondered what she would’ve said if I told her about what happened that day. I decided not to tell her. I don’t really know why. Maybe I thought she would think I’m crazy or overexaggerating. As the days went on I tried to forget about it and decided there had to be some logical explanation for what happened. Even though I had no idea what it could’ve been.
Fast forward about a week. What happened next, solidified the fact that I did not imagine anything. What was happening was real.
It was a Wednesday night. I woke up lying on my side in my bed, facing my wall. It was pitch black in my room, so it had to have been in the very early morning hours. I felt that uneasy feeling again. Like someone was watching me. I slowly turned around. I almost shat myself. In the dark I saw that my door was open. I know I closed it before going to bed. The upstairs bathroom light was on and from the light bleeding into my room I could see someone standing next to my bed, staring directly at me. “Lucy?” I asked, barely able to speak. No answer. I squinted my eyes, trying to make out the shape in the darkness. I switched on the lamp next to my bed. I was right. It was my sister. But something was very off about her appearance. And then I noticed it. Her eyes. Her eyes were completely white! No iris, no pupil. Nothing! “Lucy! Can you hear me?! Wake up!” Still nothing.
But then she started moving. Not even moving really, she started shaking. Just her shoulders and her little head. Like she was nodding really fast. Going quicker and quicker until her whole body started to shake. Still not making a sound. I didn’t know what to do. By this time I sat up in my bed. Finally, I decided to try to snap her out of it. I reached out my hand to put it on her shoulder but right before I could touch her I saw.. it. In my doorway, peeking in from the landing, I saw the silhouette of a head with long black strands of hair. This thing was being illuminated by the backlight from the bathroom so I couldn’t really make out a face. But what I could see was two white, glowing eyes. Staring right at me. It was hiding the rest of its body behind the doorframe. Without knowing it, I placed my hand on my sister’s shoulder. She stopped shaking. I forced my gaze away from the creature in my doorway to look back at her. The moment I did, she let out a blood curdling scream. I instinctively pulled my hand away, staring at her, wide eyed. The thing in my doorway stepped fully into the frame. It was hunched over and I could almost make out a slight smile on its face. In a moment Lucy was silent again. I looked behind her and saw the thing turning around to walk away. As it did, I saw what looked like a baby in it’s arms. It was a woman. She turned her head and looked at me one more time before she was gone.
“Oscar?” Lucy spoke. I looked at her, still in shock. “Oscar, where am I? What happened?” Her voice caught in her throat. She started crying. “It’s okay, Lucy. You’re just in my room. I’m here.” I knelt down on the floor infront of her and hugged her as she cried into my shoulder. My eyes, staring right at my open door, making sure that woman is gone. Soon, my mom burst into my room and flicked on the light. “What happened?! Lucy? Are you okay, darling? I thought I heard you scream?” She let go of me and ran into my mom’s arms. “There was a lady, mommy.” Her head now buried into my mother’s neck. “An ugly lady. She was in my room. She had a baby that couldn’t cry anymore.” My mom looked back down at me. Her eyes asking me if I could help her understand. It felt like I hadn’t blinked for an hour. I opened my mouth trying to say that I don’t know, but nothing came out. All I could do was shake my head. “It was just a nightmare, sweetie. It’s okay now. Mommy’s got you. Let’s get you back to bed.” “No!” Lucy almost shouted. “I don’t want to go back. Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight, please?” “Of course, dear. Let’s go.”
She turned and walked towards my door. “Could you close my door please, mom?” She said nothing. Just flicked the light back off as she slowly closed my door. The moment she left, I just started balling. I had no idea what had just happened. What the fuck was that? Who was that woman? How did she get into our house? Was she always there? Hiding somewhere all day? Why did she have a baby? Why did Lucy say the baby couldn’t cry anymore? I barely slept the rest of the night.
The next morning I was visibly tired. I almost didn’t go to school, but decided to just push through. I texted Angela throughout the day and I decided to just tell her everything. I knew I wasn’t imagining things and I knew she would be understanding. I called her later and she could tell from my voice that I was serious. “Did you check the entire house for possible hiding spots? I mean, if you say that you’re positive all the doors and windows are locked, she can’t possibly get in from the outside, so she has to be inside the house the entire time.”
“I’ve checked every corner of the house multiple times already. There are no secret hiding places that I could find. Even my dad’s office where he said he’d heard some noises. I helped him check thoroughly and we couldn’t find anythjng. I’m at a loss. But I know what I saw was real. I know my sister saw the same thing.”
She didn’t know what to tell me. Who would? I told her I’ll let her know if anything else happens.
Luckily, for the next couple of weeks, nothing strange really happened besides my sister getting quite frequent nightmares.
A couple of weeks later, I was having breakfast with my mom and sister on a Sunday morning. “Oscar, have you spoken with your dad lately?” my mom asked me through sips of her tea. “Uhm, kinda. Why?” “He’s been seeming a little off the past few days. Like he’s withdrawn. He doesn’t really speak to me much anymore. And when I try to talk to him, he seems to get distracted very quickly. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”
“He’s probably just focusing on his writing, mom. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just give him some time. Maybe he’s got a little writer’s block,” I said with a reassuring smile. She replied with a smile but I could see the worry in her eyes. I decided to go check up on him myself. I grabbed a cup of coffee to bring to him. I knocked on his office door and, to no surprise, he didn’t answer. I decided to just go in. He wasn’t busy writing. He wasn’t even sitting at his desk. He was sitting on a chair, hunched over and facing the far left corner of the room.
“Hey, dad. I, uhh, brought you a cup of coffee. Mom said that you seemed a bit distracted lately. Wanna tell me what’s up?” Nothing. I sighed, put the coffee on his desk and was on my way out when I heard him whispering something. I stopped and turned back around. “Dad?” He kept whispering. “Dad, I can’t hear you, speak up. Do you need something?” Nothing. I noticed he wasn’t sitting still. He was swaying forwards and backwards in his chair. I went closer, trying to make out what he was saying. I wish I didn’t.
“swing swing, left to right, swing swing, front to back swing swing, hanging by my swing swing, broken neck”
I felt ice fucking cold. Why the fuck would he say that? “DAD!? What are you saying?!” He kept ignoring me. I grabbed him by the shoulder and started shaking him. “DAD! Answer me!” He jolted upright in his chair and snapped around to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot and bewildered. This made me take a step back. “Oh.. hey.. uhm.. Oscar?” “What’s going on, dad? Why were you whispering that shit to yourself?” He looked even more confused. “What are you talking about, son?” “Seriously? You have no idea what you were just doing?” His expression changed as if he was trying to recall a distant memory. “I was just, uhm, taking a little break from writing. I haven’t been feeling.. myself lately.” “Mom mentioned that you’ve been withdrawn. Do you feel sick or something? Do you need to go to the doctor?” He forced a smile. Probably something he learned from my mom.
“Oh, no, son. That’s not necessary. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Maybe I just need to get some more rest. I’ll try again next week,” he said as he got up and glanced at his open laptop. I walked with him to his room and asked him if he needed anything. He said that he just wanted to be left alone for a while. I was very worried. I’ve never seen my dad like this. He could be a serious man at times, but usually he was very easy going and quite fun to be around.
I went downstairs to my mother who was busy doing the dishes. I told her about what had happened in my dad’s office. When I told her about what he had been whispering, she actually dropped the plate she was busy drying. We were both very concerned and decided to give it a couple of days and if he doesn’t get better, we have to get him some help. This change was way too sudden, and considering the batshit crazy stuff I had experienced in that house up until that point, I wasn’t taking it lightly.