Despite growing up in a household with a mother who was and is a firm believer in the Paranormal thanks to her own encounters throughout the years, my experiences didn’t begin until after I joined the Army in my late teens and really kicked into overdrive after I came home from Afghanistan. My experiences range from the mundane and potentially explainable; like the time I was visiting a historic fort and saw a shadow dart in front of me in one of the casemates that was used to house Confederate prisoners, to the downright terrifying and not so explainable; like my run in with a dark entity that was so terrifying, I still fear seeing it years later.
This particular encounter is what I’d consider mid- grade. It has all the hallmarks of a stereotypical ghost encounter that I myself might have dismissed as either boring or unbelievable had it not happened to me. But it did, so here I am.
The story begins after I had began dating another woman, who I’ll call Stacy. Stacy lived in a double wide in a large but relatively nice trailer park with her two Jack Russells, Luna and Zoe. It wasn’t always that way though. Just a year prior she’d lost her husband “Mike” to cancer. By the time we met, she’d gotten to the place where she was ready to move on with her life and asked me to move in with her after just two months of us dating. Looking back now, that was way too soon. But at the time I was living at the VA after falling on hard times and losing my house , so the offer was too good to refuse.
Now, it just so happened that my moving in coincided with the anniversary of Mike’s death by five days, with the occurances intensifying the closer it got to him breathing his last breaths just a year before. It was around ten PM and was getting sleepy, so I decided to hit the hay while Stacy finished watching her shows out in the living room. It wasn’t long after my head hit the pillow that I began to drift off. The euphoric feeling of being both awake and asleep at the same time was interrupted by a the feeling that I was no longer alone, with the culprit standing directly over me or otherwise very close.
I jolted myself awake the second I felt this sensation and looked around the darkened room. Seeing nothing, but still feeling off, I laid back down and tried to ignore the feeling. But then the tapping began. Tap. Tap. Tap. At first I thought it might be melting snow or ice dripping from the roof and onto the corner of the trailer; it was February after all. But then the feeling of dread coursed through my body, coupled with the sensation of not being alone once again. It was around this time that I realized I was experiencing a “ the call is coming from inside the house” type situation. That is to say the tapping was coming from the corner of the room and not outside.
Despite this revelation, I was determined to tough it out and hope that the noise would go away. But this only seemed to make things worse, because the longer I stayed, the louder the tapping got and the more unwelcome and afraid I became. Every so often I would open my eyes jussstt a smidge to see if there was some menacing ghost standing over me, and every time there was nothing. At least at first. I repeated this demented game of hide and go seek roughly five times, with nothing ever showing itself. It wasn’t until the sixth peek that I saw a black mass begin to appear in the same corner that the knocking was coming from. I practically launched myself out of the bed so quickly and effectively that I probably could have placed at least second in some Olympic event and bolted out to the living room to tell Stacy what happened. Much to my surprise she believed me. But all’s she really could say was “Oh yeah. Mike’s probably not too happy that you’re sleeping on his side of the bed”.
The next night proved to be just as eventful as the last. Stacy and I were in the living room watching TV and eating left over Chinese food while the two dogs were sleeping next to us on the couch. Suddenly there were three heavy knocks on the adjacent front door. Bam.Bam.Bam. Luna and Zoe went into bark mode. Stacy and I looked at each other. Who in the hell was knocking on our door at 11 PM??!
Stacy reasoned that as someone who was a “Badass Army chick” , I was the one who should go check to see who was outside. Of course I argued that it was her house and some made up ethnic tradition dictated she be the one to go see instead. Eventually logic prevailed and I bravely undid the locks before nearly ripping the door off it’s hinges, ready to confront the asshole who interrupted us so late. But there was no one to bitch out. Not even a single neighbor letting their dogs out to pee. Closing and bolting the door, we both agreed that there was no way a person could have avoided the large rickety front porch;the damn thing practically rattled the whole inside floor whenever someone walked up on it…
Finally the anniversary of Mike’s death arrived. Stacy chose that day to go through some of the things in his office to either throw away or keep, so naturally there was some activity. Knocks were heard throughout the house whenever she threw something away, along with a few small objects being thrown or knocked over. Overall nothing too catastrophic. At least not until that night when I went to bed alone and felt the same menacing presence standing over me like two days prior.
By this point I was kinda fed up by Mike’s antics , and told him as much out loud. Obviously he didn’t like that too much, because the next thing I heard and felt was a loud bang on the headboard, followed by having the comforter being ripped off of me. Once again I hauled ass out into the living room and eventually fell asleep next to Stacy while watching a movie.
Things kind of calmed down after that night. Every so often there’d be a loud noise , or the feeling of being watched by someone who was severely pissed. This went on until Stacy and I separated three months later on bad terms. I have no idea if Mike’s still haunting that trailer, but Stacy really ought to warn future partners that her deceased husband might terrorize them too.