The very first thing I noticed about my old house was that it was… well, old. It looked kinda freaky, but my mom wanted the house because it had an antique kind of look. It had spiral stairs, and it looked like a dream house… but it was old, cost a lot of money, and it was always cold for some reason. The realtor said it wasn’t for sale but my mom has a way with words. She wanted it no matter what the realtor said, and so, she got it. It was pretty nice.
My room was really big and it was upstairs, the first door on the right, but I hated that the guest room was always the coldest room though because I would like to sit in there and draw while looking out the window. It had an awesome view. My mom kept on calling people to fix the thermostat, but they kept on telling her that there was nothing wrong with it. I thought it was a little creepy so I did a little investigating. I checked every single room for anything weird, but I couldn’t find anything. There was one room I didn’t want to check though because it was a little too creepy down there. It was in the cellar, but I did anyway because I was getting sick and tired of having to wear a jacket throughout the whole house when the thermostat was on like 85 degrees.
So I went down there and flicked on the light to investigate. It was the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. It was one big well. I didn’t want to go see what was in there, but then I thought, oh its a well there’s only water in it stupid, so I looked in and I saw something a neon-ish color. It was really weird because I had no idea what it could be, maybe a glow stick? Ahhh no because we had no glow sticks anywhere in the entire house. Then it shot out of the well.
I told my mom what happened but she didn’t believe me until that night. My mom said she heard someone running up and down the stairs. She thought it was me so she yelled, “Stop it and get to bed!” The noise didn’t stop so she walked out to the stairs to find no one in sight. Then she started believing me.
She told the realtor and the realtor told us the reason why the house wasn’t for sale was because there was a serial killer that used to live in the house. My mom didn’t believe her but then she heard the same thing the next night, and the next night, but then on the third night she heard it, it stopped, and opened her bedroom door slowly. Well that’s what she says and so we moved before it got even more serious but the realtor wouldn’t give us our money back.
This is a true ghost story about a house on S. Maple Street, Bangor,Maine.