I lived in a house that was over 100 years old in a farming town of about 400 people or so in the Midwest. One of my friends used to live in this house but moved after their father had died. My friend, Chuck, had told me stories of ghosts in the house before his father passed. Some of which were confirmed by his mother. I was skeptical. We nicknamed the house the castle because it had turret/spire or what ever you call it.
Well any way, it was summer, we didn’t have A/C, and I had the largest room up stairs. My bed was nestled in the turret area which was a bank of windows as to catch the breeze. My room also had walk through closet to one of the other rooms besides the door just off of the stairway.� And the other bedroom had a grate in the floor to allow heat to make its was upstairs in the winter. I always locked the doors, even in this tiny town. The front door was wedged shut and never used.� We always used the back door which had a screened porch with just a simple hook latch to lock it and the inner door had a dead bolt.
I was lying in bed not really sleepy pondering the day when I heard something that sounded like that hook latch being forcefully unhooked. At first I blew it off since my windows were open thinking some other noise in the neighborhood. I still felt uneasy. I started getting nervous, was there someone in my home? The summer breeze suddenly picked up and was quite chilly. But what started to really creep me out was all of the crickets stopped chirping. It was dead silent. The temperature started dropping even further almost to the point you could see your breath. Then I heard it, pop-creak. That was the sound of the very first step. There is a burglar! Step, Step, creak. I have walked up these stairs slowly many times and I could tell that whoever this was, was about a third of the way upstairs and I started to panic. The cold no longer caught my attention nor the silence of the crickets. Someone was in my house! Step, Step, Step.
I eased out of bed and got my shotgun and returned to my bedside and took cover on the far side kneeling on the floor and waited. The landing was covered with old, loose linoleum tiles that would make a clacking sound when stepped on. And that is when I nearly wet myself. CLACK. I waited, poised to squeeze off a round but the clacking was headed toward the other bedrooms. Following with my ears as best I could I pivoted. The foot steps were in the room with a closet that attaches to my room. The far closet door handle rattled, unlatched and the door opened. Step, Step, Step. There was a pause that seemed forever.
I was focused intently on the door knob that granted access to my room. I had to strain to see it with the help of the street light shining through my window. The door did not fit snugly in its frame and like the other, the knob was loose. The pause ended with a rattle of the door and knob. By this time my heart was pumping so fast that I could have out ran a horse. I gripped my shot gun tightly and prepared to shoot if need be.� Another pause. The steps started the other way and I could hear like a gritty sound as the steps turned away. I listened closely as the steps made there way back the way they came. Clack, Clack. Then I heard the other bedroom door open and the hollow metal sound of the grate being stepped on.� Another pause. Then the steps moved quickly across the landing. Clack clack clack. Realizing that this intruder was now at the entry door to my room I focused my attention there keeping one ear for the closet door. The door knob rattled and the door opened slightly with a creak. I was trembling badly from fear; almost hyperventilating. Seemingly an eternity passed. That gritty sound again. Next was kind of a relief. The clacking of the linoleum and the creaking and popping of the stairs heading away at a more hurried pace. The breeze had dissipated and the temperature returned to normal.
I sat there until the sun began to rise, then cautiously made my way to the door and slowly throughout the entire upstairs. I made my way down stairs and finally to the basement checking every window and door lock on the way. Every thing was locked tight. It didn’t occur to me until after the fact that I didn’t hear any thing but the latch when this episode started. No broken glass, no busted door. Besides, a person could not have relocked any of the locks from outside, especially the hook latch. I believe this was a visit from some aggressive or violent ghost.� Though nothing happened to me, possibly due to the dawn, I never was alone in that house again. I would head to a friends house when my mother left for work and wouldn’t return until she did or with a friends company. No doubt the most fear and panic I have experienced to this day and that was sixteen years ago. Needless to say at that point I believed Chuck’s stories about that house although I experienced nothing else but again I was never alone again.
Written by Frog, Copyright 2009 TrueGhostTales.com