I lived in an old house in upstate, New York. Now, this house had to be well over 100, at the least. My great-grandparents had first got it, and it was passed down to my dad throughout the years. When he bought it, for some reason, he had wrecked the whole downstairs. He wouldn't tell anybody why, but there had to be some reason... When he married my mom and had me, my mom never left me by myself. At about 2 or 3, she finally put me in my own room. In the mornings, when she would come to get me, she'd say that I pointed to the closet and asked her "Who is that lady and the man in my closet?" She never got to see them, but I guess I sure did.
When my parents would go out to work, my aunt and older cousin would come to babysit me. The downstairs was finally done, just some boxes needing to be unpacked. Whenever they would come to babysit, the doorbell would annoyingly ring nonstop. When my aunt would look out the window, she never saw anybody. It would do that whenever my parents were home, too. So, my dad finally got it unstalled. The doorbell itself was still like, in the wall, but no cords or anything were there. Just the bell and screws. It would still ring. My dad ripped it out of the wall and now there is a hole next to our door.
We never really got to have any pets... my dad did not like to take the responsibility. My mom had a cat, though. Now, Howie (the kitty) never liked to be alone. She was always by somebody's side. She used to sleep by my side, sometimes, and when she did, she would always stare at the ceiling with wide eyes. I would try to follow her gaze, and saw nothing. The hair on the back of my neck would raise, though.. I thought nothing of it though, and pulled the covers closer to my chin. My room, as I saw it, never seemed haunted. Although I could never EVER get a good night's sleep in there! I woke up about 2-3 times a night early in the morning. For example, one time, I was right in the middle of a dream, everything went black. I could faintly hear my named being called and just jerk awake. It was weird.
Whenever I slept in my brothers' room (we'd do a sleepover thing when we were younger), I got a good night's sleep... but, would always have this freaky dream about our house. You know that scary angel of death in "A Christmas Carol"? Well, it would be in our treehouse... just watching us... rubbing its fingers against its scythe.... This could just be nothing at all... but it was always the same whenever I slept in there... One night I could swear I saw a glimpse of just... something lumonous out of the corner of my eye while I was upstairs doing my homework. I turned to look and before I could have that dark suprise moment, it was gone.
