Last week, I was finally able to purchase my new home. It wasn’t particularly old but the exterior obscured the dated look of the inside. What I mean is - from a glance, you’d think the place was an average two story home. But, when you go inside; it looks like someone brought the 50’s to the present.
The real estate agent said that the home had been on the market for quite literally, years. They wouldn’t disclose exactly why and they always danced around the question when I’d ask. For whatever reason, they seemed to be quite hesitant on offering any further information NOT pertaining directly to the sale of the home. They even went as far as to say the place used to be owned by some bygone celebrity but that was just another thing they wouldn’t elaborate further on.
Before actually purchasing the home, I did some research online. There wasn’t one single report on bad happenings there, nor the surrounding area AND there hadn’t been a homeowner since 1972. I looked up the name of that individual, but it was just a normal person. Some woman named Edith Allen who passed away in her late 80’s from causes unknown. That part was kind of weird but people die all the time from a plethora of different and sometimes strange things, so I let that detail fall out of my mind.
I took two small tours of the home as well and admired the décor the more I meandered between the various rooms. Was it my taste? No, not really, but it was an insight into a different time and something about it all felt unique. Almost as if the place was a time capsule preserved perfectly for more than seventy years.
There was one strange thing though. In the corner of the living room, was an armchair. Oddly enough, when I tried to take a seat in it, the real estate agent strictly forbade it. In fact, he nearly shouted in protest as if I was disturbing some ancient remains. When I asked him what the big deal was, he simply said, “That chair is old and I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself by sitting in it!” I wasn’t sure if I believed him because it felt sturdy to me, like it was built the day before.
I was more concerned about the horrible and heavy feeling I felt while sitting in it.
Well, anyway, I bought the home and was told that I could keep any of the furniture inside that I fancy. I honestly thought about getting rid of that chair, but whenever I’d have that particular thought, I’d suddenly feel indifferent about it.
So I kept it.
Two days after purchasing the home, (and the incredibly arduous task of moving all of my furniture inside) I had a few friends over for a sort of house warming get together. One couple and another single friend of mine arrived with food and gifts; they made me feel very comfortable in my new home.
We watched a movie and enjoyed the food they brought. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face being surrounded by my friends and the lovely home around us. The single friend, William, sat down in the armchair.
Immediately his demeanor changed. He became fidgety, distant and agitated. It was like he had become a completely different person and something was using him to project negativity into the house. Eventually, while we were all talking, he kicked my coffee table and shouted, “Why are you all so damn loud?!”
“Whoa man, calm down!” I snapped in return. He was breathing like a rabid animal - frothing at the mouth.
“Yeah, is everything alright William?” Asked Chloe, Todd’s girlfriend.
William eyed all three of us like he was ready to attack at any given moment. Then, he stood up and went outside without saying a word.
I left the couch and followed him outside. He was leaning against the house next to the door. I walked out and closed the door behind me to give us some privacy. He turned to me and pushed his fingers through his dirty-blond hair. He then said, “Hey, I’m sorry, I have no idea what got into me there…”
I sighed and said, “We’re all worried about you man. That was so sudden and so out of character for you! Is something going on that you want to talk about?”
“That’s just the thing… I’m fine! I mean, I was fine before I sat down but then, I just felt… different, you know? I felt like I had been taken over by my emotions in all the worst ways.”
Suddenly, I began to hear shouting coming from inside. It sounded like Todd and Chloe were fighting. William immediately said, “We need to go in there!”
I nodded and opened the door. The voices that were once muffled became abrasive and grew loud. William and I marched in and the first thing I noticed was Todd sitting in the armchair. He was pointing up at Chloe and demeaning her.
“Todd! What are you doing?!” I asked in desperate protest.
Chloe backed away from him and stood by my side. “I’m telling that bitch EXACTLY what she needs to hear!” He shouted at me while his pointed finger was trembling.
I approached him slowly and asked, “Todd, why don’t you come outside for a minute? We can talk this out just like I did with William. Look, he’s better now, can’t you see?”
He looked at William with eyes full of hatred and then to me. He took two dramatically deep breaths as if he was forcing a plume of fiery smoke from his nostrils before standing up. As soon as he did, I noticed an immediate change. He seemed confused, scared even for what had just happened. He looked to Chloe (who was nearly hiding behind me) and took two steps forward but she tucked herself further away.
“W - what’s wrong honey?” Asked Todd with a shaky voice.
“I think it’s best if you come outside with me for a moment Todd.” I said in her stead. I could sense the intense fear wafting off her; it was clear she had never been in a situation like the one that had just occurred. Which was both good and bad. Good because nobody deserves to be treated that way by their partner and bad because it happened right here, right now for seemingly no reason.
Todd tried to get a glimpse of Chloe but eventually gave up. He nodded to me and proceeded to the front door. I waited until he had almost reached it before joining him and William stayed with Chloe (I know that may seem just as unsafe, but I really didn’t get the feeling that he would hurt her.)
I opened the door for Todd and he walked outside with me following behind. Once there, he shook his hands by his sides and puffed out his cheeks. “I’m fine man, really!” He said hastily.
I held my hands up and attempted to calm him, “Relax. I know you wouldn’t ever hurt Chloe, but she’s terrified right now. Whatever happened to you in there is going to be incredibly hard to explain to that poor girl.”
He looked at me before squatting down and burying his head between his knees. With a muffled voice he said, “I don’t have an answer. I have no idea what came over me. One minute, I was having a good time! Well, aside from William’s outburst, and the next I was furious!”
“What made you change seats?” I asked curiously.
“To be honest…” Todd began quietly, “It just called to me - the armchair I mean. I randomly thought to myself that the chair would be really comfortable… so I sat in it.”
“And then you felt angry?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. It was as if I was witnessing my actions from a different perspective. Like, I was there but I wasn’t! I knew what I was saying was wrong and I even felt… dangerous, to myself and to Chloe. I tried to rationalize why I was feeling such hatred but then that feeling would overpower me and make me say horrible things!”
“Calm down Todd.” I said softly. He was beginning to breathe rapidly.
He groaned, “Chloe’s never going to forgive me…”
“Hey, don’t say that. I’d never justify violence between partners, but there is a bright side!”
“What do you mean?” He asked inquisitively.
“Well, SOMETHING obviously happened to you and William. Neither Chloe nor myself sat in that chair, only you two. And, it was only the both of you who suddenly lashed out. That’s a common factor and I believe that you’d never hurt Chloe. You guys have been together for years; it would be awfully strange for you to suddenly become abusive, unless…”
“No.” Snapped Todd.
“No?”
“I’ve never hit Chloe, if that’s what you’re saying…”
“I wasn’t saying that directly, but I’m not privy to your personal lives. So it doesn’t hurt, especially in this situation, to ask.”
“I’d never ever lay a harmful finger on her, I promise you that.” He said solemnly.
“Here, stand up.” I reached down and helped him to his feet, “let’s go back inside. I’m sure by now she’ll be able to see that you’re no longer that person she was so scared of.”
He nodded after a brief moment and followed me back inside. Chloe and William were sitting on the couch opposite the armchair and talking quietly amongst themselves. Once the front door closed, Chloe shot her head in our direction and a very subtle look of fright flashed across her face.
Todd put his hand on his heart and said, “Chloe, darling… I have never hurt you once in our entire relationship and I’m not about to start now. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I promise that I’ll never treat you like that again. I don’t know what got into me, but I just wasn’t myself and with how long we’ve been together, I know you can see that too.”
Chloe looked at William and he nodded. She then stood up awkwardly and (with her gaze on the floor) slowly walked over to Todd. “Please don’t think of me as some monster sweetheart…” He added as she got closer.
When she got within arms reach, she looked up at him and flew into his chest. He held her tightly and they both shared in a bout of tears.
William got up and said, “I should go.”
I grinned lightly and said, “Sure thing and thanks for coming by man. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, of course. We should do it again sometime.” He said and I concurred.
Todd pulled away from Chloe and said, “I think we should be getting home too. I don’t want to leave you here all alone so spontaneously, but I have damage I need to repair.”
“No, no. I get it. Go home you two and hey! Thanks for coming.”
They each smiled and gathered their things before swiftly leaving my home. I was left standing in the middle of the living room by my lonesome.
Or, so I thought.
I started cleaning up some of the mess from the get together and was shocked to find a used plate sitting on the armchair. Todd and William had both eaten WELL before sitting in that chair, so it begs the question of why a plate was there. It could have been missed during the commotion, but I’m fairly vigilant and something like that wouldn’t normally go unnoticed.
As I reached out to grab it, I felt a heavy presence. It was like my arm was surrounded by water, a dense, agitated pool of invisible liquid. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone was actually sitting in the chair, but I couldn’t see anyone. I definitely FELT like someone was there and they weren’t friendly.
I picked the plate up and felt noticeably different as I began to back away from the chair. Something wasn’t right about it, that much was obvious.
I decided to wash the dishes before heading upstairs to my bedroom. It suited my neat freak personality to make sure there wasn’t a mess to wake up to the next day. The process was quick and I even managed to clean the counters and the stovetop.
But something didn’t feel right.
There was this thickness in the air… something vile. If I could describe it any better I’d say it was that feeling you get when you go outside at night and then hurry back to the front door to escape the shadow people who are obviously right behind you!
Wait. That’s not just me, right?
Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I felt that way then. The tingly, hair-raising sensation rippling through my body was making it difficult for me to turn around. I was still leaning over the counter, facing the wall next to my fridge but something told me that turning around wouldn’t be the best idea.
I took a deep breath and waited. I counted time - one, two, three and so on all the way up until I reached four minutes. I had my eyes closed as well and continued my breathing as if this was some diluted version of guided relaxation.
Then, the sensation faded away. Whatever I thought MIGHT have been in the kitchen, had left. I couldn’t confirm nor deny that something was actually there anyway because my cowardice overpowered my fight response.
With all the nerves I could muster, I turned around and faced the closest doorway to the kitchen. Nothing was there. I turned to the second doorway - nothing as well. I blew a sigh of relief and chuckled lightly to myself, I couldn’t start going crazy yet! I just moved in!
Still. That feeling was undeniable and with the events of the evening; it was clear something was going on.
I shrugged it off for the time being and left the kitchen. I turned off the kitchen light and headed for the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom step, I turned to glance into the living room and air filled my lungs as I gasped at what I saw.
Someone was sitting in the chair.
It was quite dark in the living room, so I couldn’t see any details. For all intents and purposes; they just looked like a dark silhouette. I lost my balance and fell backwards onto the stairs (like an idiot) and hurt my wrist.
A sound came from the chair - the kind of sound that you hear when pressure is lifted off leather. I was too busy paying attention to my aching wrist to realize the figure had risen from the armchair. I heard a footstep and it drew my gaze to the living room where the figure was slowly approaching.
With the light cast by the bulb above the stairs - the figure was more visible. However, there wasn’t much to see. It was a mass of tendril-like shadows all intertwined and writhing. It walked with its arms swaying awkwardly as if it could hardly support them and it radiated hatred.
I shuffled back on my elbows and spun around onto my stomach. I crawled up the stairs on all fours like a frightened animal and once I reached the top, I got up and looked down.
It had begun climbing the stairs; it was not letting up. The bulb lighting the stairs started to flicker and then it burst, scattering glass in every direction. The figure uttered a noise like it was choking but now I could barely see it.
Instead of waiting to find out what it wanted, I sprinted to my room and slammed the door behind me. I locked it, and pressed my back against the hardwood.
Footsteps grew louder as whatever that thing was got closer to my room.
Thud…
More sounds of choking. Think of the noise you might hear if one tried to scream without air in their lungs.
Thud… Thump… THUD!
The footsteps stopped right outside my door.
I waited and listened. I could sense the presence on the other side as if it were trying to burn a hole through the door with nothing but its malicious intent.
But then, the steps receded.
I heard creaking coming from the stairs for a short time before the entire house went silent.
I stayed by the door for I don’t know… ten minutes? I was terrified. What would you have done?
Well, anyway; it seemed I wasn’t going to be experiencing any more terror for the night, so I got undressed and laid down.
I had probably some of the worst sleep in my entire life. It didn’t matter how much I’d try to tell myself that such things weren’t possible, I just couldn’t fall asleep. I think exhaustion took over in the end though because it was suddenly morning and a ray of sunlight was shining in my eyes.
My mind was all jumbled for the first few minutes of being awake, I didn’t even remember the night before. When I got out of bed and prepared to go downstairs; it all came flooding back.
But, I had an idea.
While I was trying to sleep the night before, I was thinking about what to do about the chair. NOBODY (aside from my friends) would believe me that something sinister was going on with it. So I wondered about what I could do to be rid of such a thing. And then, it hit me! Ridgewood (the town I live in) has a special junk collection service and it just so happened to come by that day.
All I had to do was put the chair outside near the curb and my problem would solve itself.
I unlocked my bedroom door and pushed it open. Glass covered the stairs and it made for a precarious and dangerous descent. That thing wasn’t in the armchair but there was a series of footprints on the wooden floor. They were black like soot and when I touched one of them - the material on my fingers was reminiscent of ash.
I brushed my hand against my pants and decided I’d clean them up (along with the glass) after moving the chair outside.
The chair was HEAVY, much heavier than it should have been. It almost felt like someone was pulling it the opposite direction as I dragged it to the front door. Not to mention the feeling of despair that came over me when I initially grabbed the chair was woeful. In fact, it was so bad at first that I almost decided against bringing the chair outside.
But I had a plan and I needed to get rid of it.
It took some finagling to get it through the door and it would be an understatement for me to say I worked up a sweat. I was drenched; it was in the nineties that day with zero cloud cover. I scooted the chair to the curb and left it sitting halfway in the road to add to the level of import revolving around it being taken away. My only worry was that somebody might come by and take it themselves, but I figured I’d just wait until the junk crew swung by before actually taking my eyes off it.
Luckily, it only took around a half an hour before a storage truck came around the corner down the street. It was stopping in front of other houses and two men would hop out, pick up whatever was left near the road, and then continue on.
I waited eagerly.
I desperately wanted to be rid of the chair.
The truck came closer and closer. My heart was pounding. For only having the chair for such a short time, I yearned for its disappearance.
Finally, it stopped in front of my house. The two men hopped out and one of them looked at the chair and then to me, “You’re getting rid of this thing?” He asked bewildered.
“Yeah, it came with the home and it’s not really my style.” I made up the quickest lie I could think of.
The other guy concurred and said, “I tell you what, this thing doesn’t look half bad. Maybe I’ll take it home for myself!” He started to chuckle with the other man before he placed his hand on the back of the chair.
His entire expression changed and it suddenly appeared as if he wanted to leave immediately. The first guy stared at him before asking, “You alright? It’s just a chair Johnny…”
“Yeah…” Said Johnny quietly, “Just a chair.”
I chimed in with, “I really think it should just be dismantled somewhere. I can safely say that nobody wants this, not even you guys.”
Johnny (who was still looking distraught) slowly nodded, “Yeah, let’s throw it in the back,” he said to the first guy.
“Sure thing.” He agreed quickly and then turned to me, “Hey, have a good rest of your day, yeah?”
I nodded, “You too!”
I watched them lift the chair from opposite sides and noticed a difference in their demeanor. They seemed to be able to power through it though as they only hesitated for less than five seconds before carrying the chair to the back of their truck. They put the chair inside and were washed over with an expression of relief. Then, they both looked at each other, closed the back of the truck and marched to the front. After a quick wave and a nod, they left.
And I was happy.
If only I knew how terrible of a mistake I had just made.
Once the chair was gone, I went inside and cleaned up the mess. I made sure I was diligent because I didn’t want to step on any rogue shards of glass late at night. After I was done with that, I sat and relaxed FINALLY being able to enjoy peace in my own home.
It stormed that night, which to some (including me) can be peaceful in its own right. But something about it felt… off, wrong even. My home seemed far darker than it should have been and I became uncomfortable. Rain pelted the windows and lightning lit up the entire living room and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say my house was in the dead center of the storm.
I cooked some chicken and rice, ate it and then went upstairs to my room (I left the lights on downstairs for good measure.) There didn’t seem to be any sign of the storm letting up and I was tired from the night before. You know that warm feeling of content that you get when you crawl into bed after a hard day? Yeah, multiply that by a factor of sleep disturbed by paranormal phenomena and you’ve got the way I felt (sorry if that’s confusing.)
My pillow felt like a cloud as I closed my eyes for the night.
But that didn’t last long.
I’m sure you’ve all heard the sound of wood sliding against wood right? It’s that slow, agonizing sound that can almost be compared to nails on a chalkboard. Well, I was awoken by that very same sound and it was coming from downstairs.
Not only that, but heavy footsteps accompanied the scraping. It was still raining outside, I checked the clock and it had only been less than an hour since I laid down. “What is it now?!” I asked aloud, I felt a primal rage for once again losing sleep.
I stormed out of my room (much like the storm outside) and proceeded to stand at the top of the stairs, frozen in place.
The armchair was sitting at the base of the stairs and the front door was wide open.
Rain had begun to pool on the floor and wind was invading my home. But, my confusion masked the concern for damage being done to my belongings. I started down the stairs. In my mind, I couldn’t believe the junk crew would bring the chair all the way back here. Then, I was filled with anger when I realized they had entered my home without my permission.
As I look back on it now, I probably should have used my brain to put two and two together.
I stomped down the steps while preparing myself for the wildest fight of my life. Curiously though, there was no sign nor sound of the two junk men from earlier, just the chair.
Without being a complete idiot, I stopped about four steps from the bottom and tried to survey the entry room. Still, not one soul could be found (aside from mine.) They had to be in my home though because there was a trail of muddy footprints leading from the front door to where the chair now sat.
But, as I narrowed my eyes to study the footprints better, I realized they didn’t consist of mud at all.
They were soot. Wet ash.
Then, movement caught my eye near the chair. A dark hand rose and caressed the back of the chair with shadowy fingers. That’s when I finally understood. The junk men hadn’t brought the chair back. The chair brought ITSELF back, or rather, the… thing that’s attached to the chair did.
I was filled with shock when a fell voice carried on the wind blowing into my home. It said, with a hoarse wheeze, “Leave now!”
I backed up a step as another hand reached over and gripped the head rest of the armchair. “What are you?!” I shouted over the storm outside.
The black, shadowy head of the being behind the chair appeared and rendered its voice to a low bellow, “Leave NOW!” It repeated as it began to advance over the chair like a circus contortionist.
I turned around and ran all the way to the top of the stairs and said, “Why don’t you leave me alone?! I didn’t do anything to you!” The being pressed a hand against the wall of the staircase and the walls began to ooze a sludge-like substance. It started to climb the steps with no sign of stopping. “I paid for this home! T - this is mine!” I added while beginning to inch closer to my bedroom door.
It dragged its hand up the wall as it climbed, slowly with great anger seething from it. I could hear it breathing over the storm and it was strained almost as if its lungs were filled with water. It took a deep, raspy breath and said, “The home… is MINE!”
I wasn’t going to hang around and wait for it to get to the top of the stairs. I ran to my bedroom and slipped inside. Like the night before, I locked the door and pressed my back against it. However, unlike the night before, the steps stopped immediately. I waited and waited but they never grew closer.
I thought, “Maybe I’m just going insane?” And opened the door. But, I was horrified to see the armchair right there on the other side of my door and immediately the being began to manifest and try to force its way into my bedroom.
It kept saying, “Leave now!” Over and over as I tried to fight back. I grabbed a baseball bat I keep near the door and shoved it through the open crack. The being latched onto it which allowed me to push it away from the door just enough for me to close it again.
Two thumps slammed against the door before silence once again. Thunder rolled outside and I felt trapped.
I fell asleep with my back against the door.
When I woke up, the first thing I did was open the door and peered out. The chair was still there and so was the being. It was wrapped around the chair like some demon servant draped over its master. It tried to lunge at me but I slammed the door quicker than it could move.
I’ve called the police but they thought my claim was ridiculous and didn’t warrant a visit. My friends refuse to come back to my house and it’s not safe to drop out of my bedroom window. I know it’s slow, but it really does have me backed into a corner. I don’t know if I could make it past before it unleashes whatever fury it has harbored unto me.
I can’t stay here for much longer.
I really wish that the estate agent would have been upfront with me.