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Aynne McAvoy’s childhood was unlike any other. Growing up in a family of five, her family moved closer to her grandparents for extra support as her father was often away for business. Quite a lot of history was left within the 50 year old house. In this article, McAvoy goes into depth of the mysteries encountered at the house, such as: apparitions, mysterious noises, and furniture shaking. As many people believe the paranormal are false accusation, McAvoy’s article shows a great amount of pathos, background evidence, along with an extraordinary amount of well-structured language and composition that draws you into believing her stories as you continue to read.…
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Bad houses hate our warmth and our human-ness. That blind hate of our humanity is what we mean when we use the word ‘haunted’.” I believe that those who reside in a home make the personality of the home clear. Both the Winchester Mystery House and Rose Red reflect on the widowed owners and their odd tactics of building a thriving home to live…
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I could always hear them. I don’t know if they thought I was asleep, that I was too young to understand the altercation, or if they neglected my presence altogether. Either way, every night I could hear them. I’d pretend to be asleep whenever my mother would come in to check on me, but I’d lie awake listening until eventually I heard a door slam and a car back out of the driveway and into the gloomy night. It was usually my mother who was lucky enough to get out of the house. Unlucky for me, I was left alone in the house. With him.…
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I remember the night my dad left like it was yesterday, and I don’t think I will ever forget. I don’t remember what exactly it was that made him so mad but I’m sure my sister and I were fighting like sisters do. My only really vivid memory of that night was my dad hitting me so hard he left bruise marks on my backside. I could hear my mom and dad fighting so I knew my mom saved me again. Then my dad got really mad at her and he grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into the pantry door so hard that both my mom and the pantry door came crashing to the floor. When I got up for school the next morning my dad was gone. Some children aren’t as lucky though and Child Protective Services has to remove them from a bad situation.…
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We were moving into and old house that was made in 1865. When we first moved in the realtor said to never go in the attic because the floors are not stable. Then school started and I had no friends knew no one at all so for the first week or two I minded my own business. I talked to no one didn’t say a word for two weeks.…
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My eyes snap open and the image of a room slowly focuses into my vision. I look around wondering where I am and become aware of a loud shrill noise. Then I remember, this is my place now, this is where I live and that clock needs to stop beeping. Slowly I get out of bed and look into the mirror asking myself the same question as I always do, "Why am I getting up, its not like there is anything for me to do." My room is nothing like I remember it from last night. Last night I had strewn the clothes I was wearing all about the room and sequentially thrashed it by everywhere looking form my pajamas that I somehow never seem to find. Now, my room is all clean. At least the clothes had provided some color to…
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Why did my mom decide to move into a house where the owner didn't want to talk about it, but I think she moved here because we couldn't afford our old house because my step dad's source of income wasn't here anymore.When I typed in my address and the first thing I saw was tons of Wikipedia and websites on my house. I was shocked to see so many, when I clicked one way my jaw dropped like Pacquiao in the match vs Mayweather.. What I saw was disturbing, there have been many reports of family death in that house we lived in. Now it all made sense, that's why those boys would always call my house “That scary house on the block”. I needed to inform my mom about this right away, I wasn't looking forward to die. People said was a ghost others said it was a monster what every the hell it was, I knew I wasn't going to get in its…
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My mom never screamed at me before and when she screamed he blamed me for letting him go outside without his permission. One sunny day, we were remodeling the living room so it can be more babyproof now that my brother was taller and could walk and run perfectly. We left the door open because it was too cold in the living room. We were moving the couch as we told Andres to move over so we don’t locate the couch on his feet. We were so busy moving the furniture that we totally forgot the baby of the family was walking towards the door. When we put the couch in our desired spot, we noticed Andres walking toward the street. We ran after him as quickly as we could as we saw a car moving in Andres’s direction. My dad sprinted like a track and field athlete towards his baby and caught him right in time. All of a sudden, my mom turned to me and blamed me for this incident. I felt like my side of the story wasn’t considered when I explained she told me to help her with the couch and it was really Andres’s fault. She couldn’t believe I was blaming a baby so she sent me to my room. I ran to my room crying, feeling as if Andres was the favorite child and I wished that I never had a…
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It was still in its nondestroyed state. I was with my friends from night one plus my friend's mother that I mentioned earlier as well, and my own parents. I walked into the building and I saw that room with a locked door that has the light on at all times. I was told to never go inside of that room. They told me that it was not for me to go into. I was going on vacation to this house for some reason so I had to unpack my bag in a bedroom. The house was very old so I ignored any movement that I heard I put my things on the bed and I was very cold. My mom called out for me to go to the main room. I went out there and noticed that people were crucified, hanged, torn in half, and burned. The door with a mysterious light was open and the girl was standing in front of it. I was afraid not because of the bodies but because the door was open. The girl motioned for me to come to her and I was unable to resist walking to her. As I got closer she looked more disfigured and evil. Her eyes were the biggest part that I remember. They were black with light pupils. She had claws like in my earlier dreams and she had a scream that paralyzed me. She ran at me and right as she was about to hit me I saw every event that I have that I have done to help or hinder people in real life. This felt like it went on forever and then I woke up screaming and in a cold sweat. My mother was trying to wake me up for ten minutes because of my screams. I knew that something was wrong at this…
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When my mom, me, brothers, and my sister got home mom stormed down to her room and, slammed the door. When we all went to bed all we could hear was them yelling.…
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We boxed the utensils, our clothes, our toys, EVERYTHING, in order to load our belongings into the moving truck. A week and a half prior to our actual moving day, our house was empty, with nothing but some blankets, pillows, and the bags we were taking on our drive. Sleeping on the ground, instead of our beds, was uncomfortable as the ground had very little cushion with it being carpeted, but still did not contour to our bodies, leaving us sore in the morning. Throughout the night we would wake up more often, not only because of discomfort, but because of the plethora of noises we could now hear without the sound dampening furniture. Conversations being held downstairs could now be heard upstairs as everything we said echoed throughout the house, and the small, creepy sounds at night were more real than ever as we could not ignore their increased volumes. We would wake up and each of our backs would be stiff and we would still be a little tired as we did not sleep as well as we could have in beds. Time flew by fast like a strong fall gust of wind, and moving day was soon to be upon…
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As a young child I almost never heard my mother raise her voice to my father. They have been married for over twenty years now and I would consider all of them to be happy. She had gone to college to become a journalist and that's where she met my father. The two fell in love and got married before graduation. I suppose priorities or even interest changed because she never became a journalist. Selfishly, I'm glad she didn't as I have had her full attention since I was born. A couple years ago I was making my way home from school and I could hear a commotion coming from inside of the house. I dropped my things and I ran inside to find my mother crying and raising her fist at my father. Her eyes were filled with tears and her voice strained with anger. Silence fell on the room when they both saw that I was now present. My first instinct was to go to my dad and defend him, being as she was the one that appeared to be the aggressor. My mother just fell to the floor and wept. My father then instructed me to go to my room and they would talk to me at dinner. Of course I insisted on staying but I was directed once again to give them their privacy. An hour or so later I was called to dinner and it was then that I was filled in on what had been happening in our home. My father had been seeing another women for the past six months and my mother had just learned about this earlier today. You can imagine how embarassed I was to have defended him in the same room only a few short hours prior.…
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With my family in front, I stepped onto the tile entryway without taking off my shoes. My soles echoed subtly and strangely in the cavernous, open concept and my soul slowly deflated into the empty space. Sundry clutter was pushed into a corner, backed by boxes holding household items that I wouldn’t miss until they are at the back of the one-car garage and crying to be of assistance. Cautiously, I gave myself a brief tour of the place that I once was able to walk through with my eyes closed, albeit with a couple trips here and there. Though there wasn’t much to trip over there’s still a good deal to cleaned before we could officially call this our old place. I slide open my closet door to find not clothes, but bags and crates and more boxes. Defeated at the sight of so much to still pack, as well as tired, I retreated to where my bed once stood. I began to rebuild my personal space again, and soon I was leaning on my headboard with a warm comforter as a cushion, taking a glance out my window instead of taking a catnap on the cold hardwood floor. The sheer curtains rippled in the cool summer evening breeze, brushing against my skin like a kind ghost and I realized that the real ghost was me. The curtains still hung in the room as the last trace of my presence, but they did not move as I hoped. I had no time to spend in the past, and so I dolefully pull myself out from the spiritual afterlife. I begin to do my duties as to not drag out the…
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I know full well I am not the only one of us to be haunted by these nightmares, you too hath been deprived of precious sleep, I’ve seen you cowering in your own imagination, seeing unhallowed ghosts.…
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About a year or so ago, my parents sat my brother and I down looking really solemn. At first I thought that my cat had been killed by a coyote or something (I’m slightly paranoid about my cat). Then I realized that I hadn’t seen my dog yet and normally he comes to greet us when we get home from school. He had been having some problems recently with odd possible cancer lumps and limping. I thought that he had been put down or something. Neither one happened. Then I remembered that my parents were always fighting, and that my dad and I would constantly fight too. This was it. Dad was moving out. Dad started speaking first. He said that he was moving out. My brother burst into tears. I merely sat there. I expected this. I had been expecting this…
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