A Ghost I Can't Escape

Early this year, three friends and I decided to go on a late night adventure and explore a nearby abandoned house. The previous owner of the house was purportedly an abuser, and lived there with his wife and some children.

The house was brimming with stuff- the floors were covered in left-behind items. You could barely walk through all of the trash. Rosey's earrings fell out even though they had been tightly secured. We all separated and went off to explore the house.

I kept getting lost. It seemed so big, and the rooms seemed like they kept switching places. I found my way upstairs, with my friend Rem following close behind. It was an attic. The floor was coated in old photographs. Hundred of old photographs, still intact. I collect old portraits, so I rummaged through them and looked around- and one snapped my attention to it- it was a photo of a child- very old- black and white- it locked eyes with me- an intense presence filled the room- my friend and I both had a vision and felt the energy of a toddler running around the room.

We fled downstairs. Upon reaching the main floor, right at the bottom of the steps, tears started pouring down my face. I didn't know why- I wasn't emotional and I was barely scared. I moved away to find my friends again, and the tears actually evaporated from my face. I moved back into the spot I stood before, and tears poured from my eyes. Back and forth, back and forth... Tried and true, every time I would move back, I would inexplicably sob, and every time I moved away my tears vanished. The face of a woman flashed into my head. Dark hair, mournful. Her energy was tied to where I stood. Something horrible happened there.

I joined my three other friends, and set up a piece of paper with 'yes' and 'no' written on it, with the pencil set right in the center so we could talk to spirits and they could answer us by turning the pencil to whichever word they preferred. Lucas found an old lamp, filled the bowl with paper, and set it on fire. We tried engaging whatever spirits were in the house, but the pencil on the paper never moved.

Rosey and I saw a massive yellow orb by the basement door, and the most grimy presence choked the air. Out of nowhere the flame in the lamp went out. Mind you, there was no wind- the house was sealed. My legs went absolutely weak for no reason. Rem grabbed me and started yelling because he heard voices in his ear. The sounds of footsteps echoed behind us. Lucas grabbed the paper in the bowl- it was ice cold. Seconds before, it had been burning violently. We grabbed our stuff and ran for our lives.

I froze by the basement door. I couldn't move. I had another vision, and felt an awful, disgusting energy from the basement. Vision of the woman from before, in a chair, tied, her husband beating her. She was screaming. She told me to get out! Get out! I unfroze and ran. She appeared behind me as I ran, looking almost demonic, hair a mess and teeth bared. She was running after me. I jumped into the car and slammed the door shut. She slammed her hands on the door. She wanted in. She wanted in. We drove off into the night. She appeared in the car. She's been in the car ever since. It's my car. I still have items in there from the house.

I went back a month or two ago with Lucas, and all of the spiritual energy was gone from the house. It was entirely cleansed, or at least seemed that way. It had been cleaned up a bit by someone to prepare it for being sold. The house was so small. Smaller than before. Lucas thought so too. It had shrunk, and the spirits had left, and the rooms were exact and didn't trick you anymore. I took some more items home with me, but kept them in my car. The woman still appears sometimes. I have visions of her, I feel her energy. I cannot escape her. Rosey now believes in ghosts. She didn't before. Lucas loves the house and wants to live there. Rem never wants to go back. He knows it's evil. I am obsessed with the house. I think about it every day. The woman from the house haunts me, and the house itself haunts me. I'm tired.