Ghost Stories & Paranormal Encounters

When I was almost two years old my parents made their divorce final. At the age of fie I was started at a psychiatrist to help me deal with the ‘emotional scarring’ of the divorce. Even at that young age, I had the ability I have now. Even my psychiatrist noticed. She noted to my mother that I was “amazingly perceptive of concepts children shouldn’t understand”, and “almost philosophic”.

That next year, I had my first paranormal experience. I’d moved out of the yellow room at the end of the hall and into the white room in the middle of the hall because I needed space to put a desk for home work since I was starting elementary school. My mother was also seven months pregnant with my brother, Lukas.

I moved into my new room and everything was fine… until I got the desk. My mom had bought it from an antique store, and it was beautiful. It was done in a butter cream icing colour paint that was starting to come off a bit, and it had highly detailed little pink flowers painted on the bottom drawer and on the top left corner of the top of it. My mother thought I’d just adore it, so my reaction surprised her. The second my uncle and father carried it in and placed it in the corner of my room, I was outraged. I didn’t know why I hated it, but I did. I found it just as beautiful as they had, but for some reason I wanted it gone immediately. My parents simply reasoned that being a six year old girl I was prone to hissy fits over nothing.

Less than a week later, I started hearing noises from the corner of my room that the desk was in. At first, I simply pulled my blankets over my head and ignored it until it stopped, but each night the noises became a bit more unbearable. Eventually, I would not even sleep in the room. I would sleep with my older brother or my parents.

After a month, they made me return to my room at night to sleep. They locked their doors and kept the hall light on for me. The night I returned something even worse happened. I had to use the restroom, so I made my way into the hall bathroom. Paranoid, I remember trying to keep my eyes off the mirror because my Great Auntie had told me a tale when I was young that if I saw a ghost in the mirror I would die the next night.

I returned to my room after using the restroom. As I opened the door, I remembered I hadn’t shut it. I tried to shrug it off. I climbed into bed and tried to sleep but the noises were worse than ever. I heard a man yelling, a young girl screaming, another young girl weeping, gunshots, the sound of glass shattering. Noises no young girl wants to hear when trying to sleep.

A few nights later I heard the noises even louder and began to weep along with the young girl I heard. Then I saw in the darkest corner of my room, the one where the desk was, a man who was dressed in a finely tailored suit and wore a monocle. Next to him stood a girl about eight or nine and a girl about five or six. They looked almost identical and I suppose they were sisters. The man slapped the youngest and the oldest began to yell at him. He began to yell back and beat the elder girl as the younger girl wept frantically. Then he threw the eldest to the ground and kicked her until she stopped moving completely. Then he drug the youngest across the room, picked up a shot gun, threw her to the ground and shot her. I ran screaming into my parents room and didn’t sleep a wink that night.

The next morning my older brother and I went to investigating the desk and found that the bottom drawer was locked (we hadn’t known since no one had even touched the thing since it’d been brought here). We asked our parents to take us to the antique shop where they’d bought it because we wanted to know more about where it came from.

The antique store owner told us that he’d gotten it from a young couple who said they couldn’t keep it in the house anymore. It had belonged to the young woman’s great grandmother originally. The store owner also told us the story the woman had told him. Her grandparents were wealthy and had obtained two orphaned sisters as maids in their house. Their son was a twisted man with schizophrenia and horrible luck with the ladies. He raped, beat, starved, and finally murdered the orphan sisters over the two years they’d lived there.

When we got home, out of curiosity my older brother picked the lock. When we opened the drawer we found something shocking, a picture frame with the two girls I’d seen, an old man, an old woman, the man I’d seen, and a young man.

Still today sometimes when there is a lot of commotion in the house, like a fight, or someone playing their music too loud, we see a little girl with knotted, dirty, stringy blond hair, missing teeth in a bloody mouth, bruises and cuts, and one eyeball.

Sent in by “Thistle”, Copyright 2009 TrueGhostTales.com

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