It began when I was two, apparently. My parents could hear noises; creaks, the whooshing of wind, coming from my room. When they came into my room to check on me, it stopped. No windows were open, and none of the old furniture was moving, never out of place. We moved into the old family estate when my grandmother died and my father was given her belongings. It worsened when I was seven. The noises stopped, but every now and then things werent where Id left them when I went to sleep. Books on the floor, clothes strewn across the wooden panels in a straight line towards my bed. I myself woke up on the floor, at my desk, even the sofa downstairs! As far as the internet knows, all of the people in my fathers family tree have only had one child, and for the last five generations, theyd all lived in the house. I was thirteen when they took my mother away; the nurses from the white place. They said my mother was going insane. It was true. When I was seventeen I did some research. Apparently, the first of my ancestors to live in the house was believed to be a Witch, but escaped prosecution until after her death. Its my belief that she was haunting the house, haunting the bloodline. Years later, I was recently notified of my fathers passing. Now me, my wife, and our month old child are moving into the house.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 07:25:59 +0000
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