There were a few things that happened so, my story is kind of long. I hope that you read this entire thing, and comment as to what you think about it.
I have always been somewhat interested in the paranormal, but had not really made my mind up until June of 2005. I live in Baltimore, Md with my three children, Michael, Alaya, and Taylor. Unfortunately, since my relationship with their father failed, I ended up living with my mom to get back on feet for two years. I could not wait until that day came and was very happy when I was approved for a house. Come June, my children, my brother John, and I were moving out of her house, and into a nice rowhouse on Bentalou Street. If you have ever watched "The Wire" on HBO, then that's the style of rowhouses in Baltimore. (Mine, of course a little nicer)
We were only living in our new home for two months before I started to have the feelings of not being alone. I was not sure why, and since I had never actually seen anything, I just put it in the back of my mind. On at least two occassions, I'd asked John if he'd ever felt anything weird about the house. He did reveal that he felt it really strong in the kitchen,bathroom, and in the basement while he was doing laundry. He sat quiet for a few minutes then added that after a week of being there, he could have sworn he'd seen and heard something, but did not want to scare me or the kids by bringing it up.
He explained that on one Saturday morning as the kids and I were still asleep, that he had been taking a shower. The door opened and he saw a figure of a man walk past the shower and to the the area of where the toilet was. He'd asked who it was, and watched as the figure did not respond, but walk past again and left the bathroom. He says that he was still not too upset by it because he thought that maybe it was my boyfriend who may have been too embarassed to say anything. (He figured that my boyfriend must have spent the night) He went on to say that was the reason he'd asked if Mann (my boyfriend) had been there, but had left it at that when I told him no. I did remember that immediately once he brought it up. He said since that time, he'd seen nothing else, but was uncomfortable in the bathroom ever since.
In September, I had been getting the kids ready for bed. They had school in the morning and I am really anal about our evening schedule. Dinner, baths, and bed have a time to it, and we were running a little behind since I worked a little later. My children shared a walk through bedroom in the middle of the house. Meaning, in order to get into my room, you would have to walk through theirs. This did not bother me, because I like to keep the kids close. Well, I was only a half hour behind, and the kids were in bed, so I retreated to my room. I was in the middle of ironing when I'd heard the girl's toy princess stove make a chime noise and say "We're ready to cook!" It followed by the computer generated sound of something on the burner. I called into the room and told them that there was school in the morning, get back in bed, and leave the toys alone. Neither of them responded until I firmly said "Do you understand me?" Of course they all chimed in and said yes.
The clothes were ironed, and set neatly on the chair in my room, so I started to search for something on tv to fall asleep on. I know it sounds weird, but I can only sleep with the tv on playing something I want to watch. A few minutes later, I'd heard the stove again. I called back into the room the same way I had before as I got out of bed. I swung the door open and realized that they were all sleep. Not wanting to believe it, I went to each of them and tried tickling their underarms. This was always the give away that let me know when they were faking sleep. When they faked, they always burst into an uncontrolled laughter while squeezing their underarms to prevent me from continuing. Weird enough, they each cracked their eyes open sleepily and just turned away aggravated that I was waking them. I told myself that it was probably the batteries dying and took them out. There were no more events that night.
Fast forward a few weeks, and this happening three more times. It was another school night, and once again I heard the toy stove go off again. Keeping up with the ritual, I yell into the room to tell them to go to bed. This time my daughter, Alaya yells back, "Ma, its not us! He keeps messing with it!" I direct my next statement to my son Michael telling him to leave his sister's toys alone and go to bed. Alaya says, "Not him, Mikey is sleep!" I open the door to my room and asked her what she was talking about if Mikey had been sleep. She sits up, and says. " The little boy, ma! I don't know who he is but he keeps messing with our stuff!" Can you say goosebumps! I ask her to get down from her bunk bed and come into my room. I pick Taylor and Mikey up out of their beds, and bring them with us. I decided that they were all going to sleep in my queen sized bed.
I asked Alaya why hadn't she said anything to me about it before. She said that she was not scared of him or "the man in the red shirt". This was all becoming too much all at once. I asked her to explain more. She revealed that the little boy is just not scary and likes to play, and that the man in the red shirt only tells her to go to sleep for school when she wakes up in the middle of the night. I did not want to believe her, but I did. She was calm and sincere. Above all, she was not stuttering over her words the way she still does when she is being untruthful. I could not imagine being seven and not scared of people who were not supposed to be there.
Needless to say, the kids stayed in my room for the next few weeks. Just as expected, the stove still came on a few times, which further made me a believer. Along with that, were the normal feelings of being watched until my brother let out a scream one night that made me think he was in fear of his life. I remember kicking and banging on his bedroom door trying to get in. He finally opened the door, ran past me hitting the stairs and yelling..."I'm getting the bleep outta here!" I followed behind him asking what happened. I had never seen John this afraid in my life. He was shaking and teary eyed. I told him to calm down and just tell me what happened.
He told me that he was getting ready to go to bed. He's a big fan of soul singer, Maxwell, and had chose to go to bed listening to him. (He does this especially when he thinks he's in love again...lol) He said that just near the end of the song, the music did not sound like just Maxwell. Other voices which sounded evil joined in which made him open his eyes. When he did, there were three short dark figures without facial figures in front of him. He said that he could not scream initially and could not move. I asked him if he was not sure that he was not dreaming. He got angry and said..."I just bleeping laid the bleep down! I wasn't even bleeping sleepy yet! Bleep no, I wasn't sleep!" It is my experience that when he uses that word, and is that angry, not to mess with him. Lol... I asked him when was he able to scream? He looked at me and said "When the little bleeps bleeping disappeared!"
Of course, there were more feelings of unease, my daughter seeing the man in the red shirt and the little boy, and my brothers new girlfriend spending more nights with him. Up until this point, I was not getting more than hearing the toy stove and feeling watched until...
I had taken a later shift at work, which allowed me to get dressed after the kids were taken to school in the morning. My sister always picked them up on her way to drop my nephews off since I was not driving at the time. I was home alone after they left. I was coming out of my bedroom, and nearly killed myself tripping over my son's remote control car. I let out a few explict words and ended it by saying, "How hard is it to keep that bleeping thing under the bed!? I bet I throw it away the next time its in the middle of the floor!" (Yes...I talk to myself when the kids have done something wrong, but not there to be fussed at about it...lol) I go into the bathroom still rambling on about it to start getting ready. There is a view of most of the kids room from the bathroom. Just as my last word got out, the car takes off into the direction of my son's bed. His bed was flushed against the wall and could not be seen from the bathroom unlike my girl's bunk bed. I walk into the room, and yes... It was parked under the bed. I bolted out of there! Once I got the front door opened, I was happy to see my sister driving back through our block from the school. I run into the street and start flagging her down. (Thanks to my nephew Tavon for getting in trouble once again. Any other day my sis would have been halfway home, instead she had to speak with his teacher. I talked her out of punishing him after this...lol) I refused to go back in, and decided to go to my sister's, borrow her clothes and go to work from there.
My second experience was when I had company over to play cards. My youngest girl, Taylor liked when family and friends came over, and often came downstairs when she was supposed to be in bed. She did this a few times, and after scoring a few dollars from all six of the people there, she happily went upstairs. We were done playing cards and were just talking about our kids and things like that when I heard Taylor call downstairs, "Mommy."
I asked her what she wanted, and she said nothing. She did this two more times, and I joked that she probably wanted more money. After the last one, and still not getting an answer, I go upstairs to see why she kept calling me. Taylor was knocked out sleep! I tried the tickling thing, and yes... She was asleep. She, along with her brother and sister. I called everyone upstairs and asked if they heard her calling me, too. Of course, they all did. We moved them into my room, and they let themselves out.
My third experience. Since at the time, I was a single mother struggling to make ends meet, when the girls and one of the neighbors child broke their wooden bunk bed, I was determined to fix it instead of buying a new one. By this point, they were back in their rooms again. I was more afraid than they were seemingly. The kids were downstairs playing as I sawed and drilled and was nearly done with turning the once bunk bed into two twin beds. Right there, directly into my ear, a child's voice says, "Mommy?" I jump up, and run into my room. I look to see if the kids were in there although I knew that they would have had to walk past me to get in there. I run downstairs and asked if any of them called me, and of course, they all said no, and continued to play. The voice was right there in my ear. I knew what it was, but still wanted any other answer than that.
My fourth experience. I was doing laundry at around ten o'clock on a Friday night. Since I would normally do it during the day on Sunday's, my brother was a little mad at me that the washer was not available for him. I decided to wash a load for him in between my own to settle our little dispute. I placed his clothes in the washer and headed upstairs. My main reason was because I was feeling watched. Once I made it up to my room, I realized that I had not taken my own out of the dryer. I stopped in my brother's room first to ask if he would grab them for me. I did not let on that I was scared, but instead told him that I did not feel like tackling those stairs again. He looked up, and reminded me that I was doing him a favor by washing his clothes since I "booted" him in the first place. In John's world, that is a polite way of saying no. I hesitantly went down to get the load from the dryer.
My washer and dryer is in the far back of the basement. The stairs is in the middle of the basement, so when you go down the stairs, your back is facing the washer and dryer. Once down there, you have to turn to walk in the direction of them. When you are coming up the stairs you have a clear view of the washer and dryer. I hurry to get the clothes out, and toss them into the basket. The feeling was stronger than it was when I was down there the first time. So much so, that I was shaking to the extent that I was dropping some of the clothes on the floor. Finally, they were all gathered into the basket, and I headed toward the stairs. The feeling was really overwhelming. Just as I turned to go up the stairs, I saw a floaty black figure right in front of the washer. I dropped the clothes and skipped both flights of stairs until I made it to my brother's room. I burst into tears as I swung his door open to tell him what I had just seen.
There had been a few other things that had taken place in that rowhouse on Bentalou Street. I'll write in more soon. Since that time, I am making a considerable amount of more money and have moved. Moving does not mean that there are no more experiences.
We did check about deaths in the house. There is no explanation for the little boy, but a man died in the basement due to a drug overdose. The weirdest thing is that neighbors confirmed that he wore a red shirt nearly everyday, and complained that he smelled badly most of the time. My daughter did not complain about an odor coming from him.
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