Ok so this will be a hard story to comprehend, but in NO WAY is any of this made up or twisted. This is a true story, whether you choose to believe or disbelieve, doesn’t make it any less true than it is.
I was around 10 years old and me, my two brother, my mom and my new step-dad moved into a green farm house out by Wolf Lake, Wisconsin. My aunt and uncle had owned the farm before. It was a decent farm house with cows, and lots of corn. Everything was normal until my mom placed an old fashioned doll into my room. It was one of those with the rainbow colored dress and she had no legs just an upper body. She had those eye lids that could open and close and a button on her back that when it was pushed it played a song. I was never ever scared of dolls, I loved Barbie’s… I wasn’t afraid of the dark. I slept alone in my room on the bottom bunk. Until at night when I would try to go to sleep that doll would play music as if someone had pushed the button… I watch her closely and her eyes would blink… ever since then I would be afraid of all dolls… this would happen every night. I would put all my dolls in the closet and put stuff in front of my closet.
One of my brothers was around 7 or 8 years old and used to say that 2 little boys would sit on the edge of his bed at night and my other brother was around 5 or 6 and he would tell my mom that Chucky told him that he was in his closet and the he was going to get him. my mom thought we were all going crazy. our cows would get out of there electric fence and we never could figure out why… nobody told us anything. The plumber we had come over left early because he heard kids running around upstairs when the house was empty. Faucets would turn on by themselves… so many things happened.
Then one day when my mom had to go downstairs to the breaker box she say two names carved into the wall…one was John and the other was Chucky (same name my brother complained about) and the weird thing is that they were both crossed out. My mother never believed us until that day. Turns out my step dad knew the whole time. he let my mom believe that we were crazy. He wanted to stay there and he knew that if she knew what happened that she would move… and we did… within two weeks.
Turns out that the people who lived there before us had lost their two little boys. One fell into the mill and suffocated and the other little one was accidentally ran over by a tracker when his dad was driving it….
I believe with all my heart that it was those boys there. and they tried to connect with us kids because children are always more vulnerable. Like I said, I don’t care if you believe me, but I am here to tell you that this happened to me at a young age and I happen to know that there is life after death and sometimes your spirit does get stuck in limbo. all I know is that if I had a chance to go back to that house… I couldn’t…that was one of the scariest times of my life. I’m 19 now and I still remember it like it was yesterday. I’m 19 and I am still terrified to be in the same room as a porcelain doll. and I will not sleep in the same room as one. Some people just don’t like them…because they are “freaky”… yea try having one blink at you and sing to you… scariest thing in the world.
A few weeks later, my friend Jared is over and I show him the backwards stairway to heaven clip where it is talking about Satan and 666. Then Jared goes through my house and says I invite Satan hear, come 666, and all that stuff and I am not kidding I was mad and I yelled at him and pushed him.
The next day when I was gone I was in the bathroom and something hit the door do hard it nearly came down. I was home alone, and I opened the door and there was nothing. I was kinda scared so I went outside and then I heard demonic screaming coming from inside my house! it sounded kinda like a woman, and it was in a different language. I ran inside and my dog was in the corner and he was shaking. so then I prayed and rebuked any demons. When my friend came over he said he felt weird in the house.
Sent in by Jessica, Copyright 2010 TrueGhostTales.com