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Culture

My Experience Living in a Haunted House

I know there are some skeptics regarding the existence of ghosts and the afterlife, but after living in a haunted house for seven years, I can concur that ghosts are indeed real. However, I cannot say I necessarily had a bad experience with the ghosts who resided in my home, rather there were a few instances when my family and I were afraid to anger the spirits living amongst us.

I moved into my house when I was about four-years-old. I was absolutely stoked because my room was being upgraded from a small shoebox to an expansive space, decorated with pretty blue floral wallpaper. Our new house resided on top of a hill-like cliff and was historically referred to as the “Sprague Estate.” Apparently, for many consecutive years, the house remained vacant and had no heat or maintenance. However, in 2012, the house was purchased and remodeled, keeping its original structure, but repairing and replacing whatever was lacking to bring it back to its old luster. The property residing next to our home was the old stable house, which was transformed into a residency. Our house was adorned with its original shingles, apparently modeled after Queen Anne’s and represented Victorian period homes. Obviously, the house my parents purchased was old. From the very minute my siblings and I stepped foot in the building, we knew something was up, and it would only get creepier from there.

I have countless examples of spooky ghost stories from my experience, but I am just going to share one. This one instance occurred in the latter years of my family’s residency. Previously, we all determined our dining room was the haunted hub of the house. Although we felt the spirits linger with us in every room on every floor, we recognized the most powerful presence in this specific area, where my family would gather for various occasions and elaborate meals. Birthdays, holidays, and celebrations would all take place in this room. My dad claims to have entered the dining room one evening and he watched as decorative balls fell out of a large bowl, one by one, as if someone were extracting them and throwing them to the ground. Our dining room was all wood and contained a beautiful fireplace, hand decorated with wood carvings and marble. On the mantle of the fireplace stood a concrete figure of an angel playing the trumpet, surrounded by various other decorations (depending on the season, of course). It was the holiday season and my mom decorated the mantle with sparkly ornaments and fluffy boas to surround the model. One night, my older sister had some friends over to ring in the new year. Her room resided on the third floor, which also contained an extra kitchen, an office, a guest room, and our playroom. Obviously, my sister and her friends were making a bit of raucous, excited about the night’s festivities. There was a whole floor separating our third floor and our dining room, so you could not decipher any of their noise. However, something or someone was most definitely angered by the night’s chaos. No one was in the dining room until my family and I heard an epic crash. We went to scope out the scene and were horrified to see our stone angel had fallen to the floor, along with the adorning decorations surrounding the figure. Keep in mind, the mantle was long and spacious, so a simple breeze could not be strong enough to knock everything over. The floor was covered with broken fragments, glitter, and other chippings from the debris of decorations falling to their destruction. Weirdly enough, both of the angel’s feet were perfectly severed off; it was as if a knife was used to slice them. We found one of the feet, but could not locate the other one for weeks. My mom was pretty upset about her broken angel, but super-glued one of the feet back into its proper place, but could not understand where the other one had gone. As time went on, we seemed to have forgotten about the incident, still a little spooked, but distracted by daily life. By our back door, which was in our kitchen, we kept a floor mat where all of our shoes were required to be dispensed upon entering the house. Although the kitchen and the dining room were next to each other, the floor mat and the mantle were in completely different directions and located many, many feet apart from one another. The only thing connecting the two rooms was an average-sized door frame and a mudroom. At the time, I was obsessed with crocs and started my own little collection, which was all lined up on the shoe mat to please my mother’s orders. One day, I was putting on a pair of my fuzzy crocs (yes, I did wear fuzzy crocs) and low and behold, I found the angel’s foot perfectly placed inside the shoe. Keep in mind, the proper foot was placed inside its corresponding shoe, and I had previously worn the same shoes since the incident occurred. I was baffled upon finding the severed foot. Both of my parents were completely spooked too but remained composed to refrain from scaring us.

Now, if you aren’t a believer, you may think this whole story is a scam or that it’s not scary or sinister enough, BUT, as I said before, I don’t think the ghosts living in our house were necessarily mean, rather they only bugged us when we were doing something to disrespect their existence. And because my sister and her friends were probably being obnoxiously loud while celebrating the new year, I’m sure the spirits remaining in our home were discontent with the night’s fiascos. Whether you chose to believe me or not, I totally lived in a haunted house, but thanks to that experience, I can always sense if something spooky is going on. If you’re ever in need of a ghost detector, I can be your gal! I have plenty of years of experience under my belt!

 

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Charlotte Barry

St Law U '21

Hi! My name is Charlotte Barry and I am a member of the SLU Her Campus chapter!
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